I don’t know what has him all giddy, but it’s hard to think of anything else but his satisfied smile as I walk around and try to make conversation with the crowd. Everyone seems to be well-intoxicated, which only makes me feel like I have a lot of catching up to do when I finally tell Bentley I’m clocking out.
The beer garden has emptied out quite a bit since I got there, and Desmond is waiting for me at one of the tables with a drink. He grins. “On me.”
I laugh because I recognize the signature White Water label on the glass. He must have used one of my free drink tickets to get it. “Remind me never to call you a cheap date.”
He winks. “Oh, I’ll spoil you rotten today, babe. Beer, hot dogs. I don’t know what you models eat, but the only salads they serve at the games have more calories than a pepperoni pizza. So if I were you, I’d opt for the pepperoni.”
A bouncy body sidles up to me. “I heard the good news.” Monica is grinning from ear to ear, and if I didn’t know better, I would think that she expects something to happen between Desmond and me.
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Free meals for a week. I’m no dummy. I accepted even though it means hanging out with this thug.”
Desmond gasps in mock admonishment. “I’m no thug. I’m actually quite the gentleman.”
Monica looks up at him and laughs. “Okay, then. I’ll see you two inside.” She points at Desmond. “Take care of my sister. Don’t let her ruin your fun.”
“Oh no, that’s part of the deal,” he says as he swings an arm over my shoulder. “She has to have fun.”
“I have to try,” I correct.
Desmond winks at me. “You won’t have to try with me.”
16
False Start
Desmond
Alcohol is definitely not part of my plan for getting Maggie to loosen up today. Sure, the girl is as frigid as a Canadian winter, but I’m optimistic. How could someone who grew up on football not have fun at a live game? What I’m not expecting is for Maggie to take it upon herself to down three shots of White Water vodka in just a few minutes.
“Going a little hard there, aren’t you, Mags?”
She shrugs as a giggle slips from her sexy throat. “You’re driving, not me.”
I chuckle. “That’s presumptuous of you. Who said I was driving you home?”
This time, she glares and steps right up until she’s under my nose. “This is a pretty shitty date if you’re not even going to drive me home.”
A laugh bursts straight from my chest. “Who said we’re on a date?”
She tilts her head and practically purrs. “You did offer me your extra ticket to the game, one you would have otherwise used to bribe one of these poor women to go on a date with you—which, by the way, makes me some sort of saint. So yes, this is a date.”
“You going to put out afterwards too?”
Her lips curl up at the corners. “Not a chance in hell.”
That makes me grin. “Then our definitions of date are very different.”
Maggie snorts. “Who are you kidding? We both know you won’t let me find a different ride home after the game.”
When she bats her eyes up at me playfully and knowingly, something catches in my chest. We both know she’s not wrong.
We walk to the stadium with Monica, Chloe, Gavin, and the rest of our friends. Then we detach when we get to the concession stand near where our seats are.
“Want something to eat or drink?” I ask her.
Maggie looks up at the board then tells me she wants a beer but nothing else. I order two hot dogs, two beers, and a pretzel, then we make our way to our row. Monica’s seats are an entire section down and to the right of us.
“Here.” I shove a hot dog in front of Maggie’s nose. “You should eat something.”
She makes a face and pushes the hot dog away. “I can’t eat that. Do you know how many toxins are in that thing?”
I shrug and stuff half of a dog into my mouth, chew, swallow, and take a sip of beer. “Probably just as much as those three White Water shots you took back in the beer garden.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here, aren’t I? Now you and my sister can shut up about the Seattle experience. After today, not another word.”