“What about you? Did you love just baseball?”
He considers this, his features darkening for a long moment. “I do love it. I always have. I liked football too but it was so physical and I didn’t want to tear my body up like that.”
“That would’ve been a shame,” I smirk.
He catches my toss and winces just a little. “I was better at baseball anyway. It was my thing. In our family, you have to have something you’re known for, and baseball was all I really had.”
“So if you’re a nerd and aren’t good at anything, what happens in your family?”
“You’re Graham.”
This must be a joke of some sort because he bursts out laughing. Although I have no idea why, I’m laughing too. Our voices meld together in the air, his Southern twang and my girly giggle, and I love the way it sounds.
Once we settle down, our game of toss continues. Back and forth the ball goes, a comfortable silence between us. After the fifth or sixth throw, I notice a slight cringe around his eyes.
“Hey,” I say, holding the ball. “Does your shoulder hurt?”
“It always hurts some.”
“Let’s stop. This can’t be good for you.”
A shy smile touches his lips. He looks at me in a way he hasn’t before, like something has shifted between us. “This is the best therapy I’ve had yet.”
“If you mean practicing, it’s not,” I insist. “Not if it hurts.”
I’m not sure what I said, but he laughs. “Gotta push through the pain sometimes, Dani.”
“And you have to rest sometimes too, Landry,” I sigh.
He holds his glove up and I throw it back to him, gently this time. The thought of him going through the motions pushing through pain hurts my heart. I wonder how many times he’s tried to push through injuries and discomfort for another play or another win.
As if he reads my mind, he shakes his head. “I know my limits. I push as hard as I can and stop when I have to. It’s a balance because you know you have physical limitations, yet there are all these expectations,” he gulps. “It’s just a part of the job.” He reads my face and his features lighten. “Besides, I’ve prepared for this my whole life.”
“I get what you’re saying,” I tell him, thinking back to the demands my father put on me growing up to be the best. Years of my life spent pitching two hundred strikes every day without fail. Hours upon hours of time with coaches, dieticians, physical trainers, all to achieve something he wanted. Not me. “I know the pressure to be good at something. I hated it.”
“I didn’t hate it,” he comments. “I just have three older brothers that are all badass in their own way. It’s tough living up to that.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Do you have siblings?”
I catch his toss and hold it in my glove in front of me. “It’s just me.”
“That must be lonely.”
“It is. That’s why I want like ten kids.”
“Ten kids?” he repeats, his eyes bulging out of his head.
“Maybe not ten,” I laugh. “But a bunch. I don’t really have a family, so I’m going to make my own someday.”
His features twist together, and I don’t know what to make of that. Before I can think about it too long, he’s closing the distance between us. Standing a few feet in front of me, he brushes a lock of my hair out of my face.
“You look so beautiful,” he whispers. “I don’t know how a woman can look more beautiful in a hoodie and sweatpants than she does in a dress and heels, but you do.”
“So you don’t like my dresses?” I tease.
“Oh, I do. Trust me, I do. But I love the way you are so natural right now. So . . .”
“Boring?”
“Interesting.”
“Whatever,” I laugh. “You’re such a charmer.”
He takes my hand and pulls me to the picnic table from last night, and we sit in the same spots as before. “I like you better like this,” he notes.
“Like what?”
“Out of your domain, as you called it. When we both know we are on equal footing.”
“Screw you, Landry,” I laugh.
“Yes, please do.”
That’s all it takes for everything to switch between us. Unlike at the hospital, we are alone. In the course of six words, the lighthearted game changes. Our breathing is as heavy as if we’d just run a mile. Using every bit of self-control I have, which is way more than I ever knew I possessed, I tug my gaze away from his. My head is angled so he can’t see my face. My eyes squeeze shut in anticipation of his next move because, if I know anything, it’s that there will be a next move.
The weight of his touch, forceful yet respectful, rests on the small of my back. I’m aware that I suck in a hasty breath at the contact, but there’s no chuckle or tease from him. Watching a bird land on the water, I give myself a few seconds to decide how this goes. Do I want to pursue this moment or do I not?
Tucking my chin against my shoulder, I look up at him through my lashes. “Whatcha doin’, Landry?”
“I’m not sure.”
My blood pounds through my body, like it’s a race to course through my veins. It’s dizzying. Then I look into his eyes, those deep, intense swirls of green, and it’s all I can do not to tip backwards.
The lights flicker on around the park as the sun continues to creep beyond the horizon. The chatter that ricocheted through the trees earlier from other patrons is gone. Everything is quiet, like the world is waiting on the next move as much as I am.
“Can I kiss you?” It’s the simplicity of his question, the sweetness of the proposal, that does me in. I’m a goner, putty in his large, calloused, surely-capable hands.
“You better.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he leans in and touches his lips to mine. My bones turn to mush, my body temperature melting me from the inside out. The taste of his mouth as his tongue separates my lips and works against mine is hot and sweet, full of everything I feel. He breathes into my mouth, filling me with such a carnal need to feel him in so many ways.
His hands find my waist and he jerks me closer to him, the tips of his fingers digging possessively into my hips. As I moan into his mouth, he clenches harder around my sides, his lips working harder, more urgently against mine. He winds his fist into my hair, creating a knot, and holds it at the base of my neck. Using it to position my face where he wants it, which at the moment is cocked to the side, he slides his kisses off my lips, down my cheekbone, and behind my ear.
They’re soft against my skin as they demand a reaction. Like I have a choice. When the stubble of his five o’clock shadow scratches against my neck, I moan much louder than I realize.
He chuckles, his breath scalding against my skin. “Shhh.”
“You started this,” I say, a giggle in my tone. “You picked the park.”
“Because it’s the only place I can get you to meet me.”
“Because I didn’t want this to happen.”
He laughs out loud, pulling away from me. “Don’t kid yourself, babe. The only reason you came here was for this.”
“Liar!” I giggle.
“Oh, you came here because you really wanted to play catch, right?”