America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(37)
“Looks clean as a daisy in springtime,” he replies.
“You didn’t even look.”
He lunges for my cheek, and I shriek and yank his hat down his face. He knocks his elbow on the table when he tries to straighten his cap, and the food skitters precariously to the edge.
I lunge for it, he thinks I’m starting a food fight, and we end up in a tangled heap of arms and legs with the funnel cake in Beck’s lap and a chicken wing down my shirt.
“Oh my god, get it out, get it out,” I’m shrieking as I laugh and bend over as far as I can go in my seat while I try to dig it out without flashing any skin.
“You need help?” he asks, angling his head to peer at my boobs, which are squished against my leg. “I could totally be a gentleman and help.”
“In your dreams, Ryder.”
“You know this funnel cake’s all mine now. It’s a rule. If you crotch it, you…huh. What rhymes with crotch?”
“Botch?” I suggest as I finally grab the fried chicken and pull it out from beneath my hem. “Flotch? Notch?”
“Yeah. You crotch it, you notch it.”
My eyes go wide. “I don’t think that’s about funnel cake.”
He gives me the famous Beck Ryder smolder, and my body jerks to attention. You could notch me.
“You gonna eat that wing?” he asks. “The wings are my favorite.”
I settle back in my seat and hand it over to him. “I thought the okra was your favorite.”
“Favorite thing to sing about.”
I bust up laughing again, because what? “I’m beginning to understand why Ellie doesn’t talk about you.”
“Too much fabulousness. She’s never been able to deal.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, okay. It’s because I made her sign a contract not to. I’m a terrible diva, and I don’t want anyone to know.”
“You’re a total goober.”
His face splits into a grin, and god, he’s gorgeous. “That’s what she says too.”
For once, I believe him. He snorts out a short laugh as he plucks a big piece of fried dough off his lap. “Hey, there’s a ball game going on.”
I glance out at the field. The scoreboard says we’re actually fighting a close game in the third inning. Mackenzie’s probably at the edge of her seat, biting her nails.
She gets so tense during the close games.
“Are you going to throw more food at me if I check to see if Mackenzie’s texting me orders to go to the bathroom?” I ask.
He sweeps another glance down my body, and a warm flush follows everywhere his gaze touches. “Maybe.”
“I know how to transport bees and hide a hive in your bed.”
His laugh is rich and long, and while I know we need to look like we’re getting along for the cameras—and yes, there are at least seven that I’ve been able to pick out, all pointed our way—it feels very, very real to have him laughing at one of my jokes.
“You’re not allowed to hang out with Wyatt. Ever,” he informs me.
“Too bad you’re leaving town and he’s moving in next door to me. Looks like you’re screwed.”
He just grins again.
Say what you want about the man, but you can’t deny he’s one happy guy.
Funny, that.
I ran away from the spotlight to find my happiness.
And here he is, basking in it. Happy about it. Even after having all manner of nasty things said about him in the last three days.
In a world revolving around looking good, he fits in well.
We couldn’t be more polar opposites if we tried.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not in danger of succumbing to his charms.
So it’s time to remember who my parents are. Find some of that face to give the world. And tuck my heart in tight.
Because I’m not letting that world break me again.
No matter how amazing it feels to know that I’m a small, direct part of the reason the Fireballs are once again showing thousands of people how Persephone’s doing over at the zoo.
That’s what I’m doing this for.
To save the giraffes.
Eighteen
Beck
We linger in the box after the game to let the stands clear out. We were supposed to leave before the seventh inning, but the game was close, and Sarah was really into it once we both got cleaned up and the Fireballs’ defense stepped up.
Add in a two-run homer from my buddy Cooper Rock, and it looked like we could pull it off.
“We should’ve left an hour ago,” she says, frowning.
“You were having fun.”
She turns those dark eyes on me, and they’re not full of laughter like they were when she shoved my face in the funnel cake—the guys are going to love her—but they’re not mad either.
Just pensive.
“Better photo shots, I suppose,” she says.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
The plan is for me to take her home, then we’re going our separate way for two days.
Let the pictures from tonight trickle out, let suspense build, both of us reply we’re just accidental friends, her parents issue statements from their publicists asking for privacy, and then we’ll get together again Thursday for dinner at a comedy club in the warehouse district downtown and let it slip that she’s accompanying me to a Friends of the Zoo black-tie fundraiser dinner that Charlie literally pulled together for the organization this morning because she’s magic, and because I told her if we were going to do a fundraiser, it had to be for Sarah’s favorite pet project.