I hold the door open for Liv, ushering her inside the restaurant ahead of me. I do this to get her out of the chilly night air, the breeze coming off the Puget Sound causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.

I don’t do it so that I can get another look at her ass in that tight black dress.

Nope. Not at all.

And my eyes definitely aren’t fixed there when I nearly run into the back of her, her movement stopped by the hostess asking us if we have a reservation.

I bring myself up short, placing my hands on Liv’s shoulders in an attempt to steady myself. Once I’m confident I’m not going to send both of us ass over tits into the hostess stand, I lift my gaze to the woman’s and slap on my signature smile.

“I’m sorry, we don’t. But I was hoping you might be able to squeeze us in.”

The woman practically swallows her tongue. “Are you—are you Brandon Jeffers?”

I lift my hand to my dark hair, running it through my overgrown locks. “Guilty as charged. Now, do you think you might have room for me and my lovely date here? Perhaps somewhere near the back?”

The hostess all but falls over herself as she tells me she’ll be right back to seat us. I should feel bad for abusing my fame this way, but come on. What good is being one of the best ball players in the league if you can’t use it to your advantage every once in a while?

Liv playfully swats at me before giving me a roll of her eyes. “You’re such a prat. That poor girl is probably in the back, kicking some humble, unsuspecting victims out of their seats just because you couldn’t call and make a reservation.”

I chuckle. “Brandon Jeffers doesn’t need reservations, Tink. If Brandon Jeffers graces you with his presence, you make room.”

“And, if Brandon Jeffers doesn’t stop referring to himself in the third person, Liv Hunter is going to puke all over his billion-dollar shoes.”

My head falls back as I roar out a laugh. I love that this woman calls me on my bullshit. Most other women would be hanging on my every word, desperate not to say the wrong thing, for fear of pissing me off and therefore missing out on their chance.

Not Liv though. She doesn’t give two shits on whether or not she offends me.

It’s refreshing as hell.

Besides, I’m not that full of myself. I just wanted to see what she’d say to me acting like a total…what did she call it?

Prat.

She never disappoints.

A fact she proved over and over again this afternoon, her smile wide and her face happy each and every single time I stepped out of the dugout.

Seeing her in the stands today was even more than I could’ve ever imagined. I’d already known I wanted her to see me play in person. But I’d had no clue just how much it would affect me.

Her being there…made me proud. It made me want to play the best damn game I’d ever played so that she might feel some semblance of the same pride I was feeling myself.

Having her there meant the world.

And made me realize it was time to take things to the next level.

Hence the reason I’m wearing this stupid-ass tie and jacket, waiting to be seated at one of the hottest restaurants in town without a reservation.

I don’t do dinner. I don’t go on dates. There is no doubt in my mind that, even as we stand here, multiple gossip rags are uploading our photo and speculating on what this means.

I’m going to show Liv exactly how serious I am.

And then hope like hell she agrees to what I’m going to suggest.

The hostess is back within minutes and leads us to a table way in the back. I’m sure there will still be plenty of opportunities for people to snap our picture, but hopefully, we’ll at least get a little bit of privacy. I’m gonna need it.

And, as if right on cue, a symphony of shutters goes off as every single person within our line of sight snaps a picture on their phone.

Liv turns and looks at the commotion behind her, but I quickly grab her hand to bring her attention back to me. I purposely sit her with her back facing the crowd to try to save her from too much of the public eye. Let them take as many pictures of me as they want. But Liv doesn’t deserve to be splashed all over the main page of every major search engine.

“Pay no attention to them. You’re here for me, not them.”

“But, Brandon—”

“No buts. Let them take however many pictures they want. It won’t change the fact that I’m here with the most gorgeous girl in Seattle and that she came to my game today.”

Liv grins at me, her cheeks blushing furiously from my compliment. “You don’t care what people are going to say?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m counting on it actually.”

She cocks her head at me, her brows furrowing as she mulls over my words. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I want them to talk. I want them to know I am here with you tonight. I want everyone to know that Brandon Jeffers is officially off the market.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

I chuckle at the look of complete surprise written all over her face. “I want to do this, Liv. With you. I want us to be an us. I want you to come to my games and cheer me on. And I want to rush back to Maple Lake as soon as I finish up a road trip because I’m just that damn desperate to see you. I want everyone to know that you’re having my baby and how happy that makes me. And, most of all…” I trail off, sucking in a deep breath of air to steady my nerves at what I’m going to say next. “I want them to know that I’m falling for you.”

If I thought she was surprised before, it’s nothing compared to the look of utter bewilderment that crosses her face at those words. It would almost be comical, the way her eyes widen into saucers and her chin drops nearly down to the floor, if it wasn’t so damn nerve-racking. The seconds tick by as I wait for her to say something…anything to put me out of my misery. But she just continues to stare at me like I’ve suddenly grown another head that speaks fluent Chinese.

“Now would be a good time for you to say something,” I finally blurt out after what feels like an eternity of silence.

“I-I-I…” she stammers, closing her eyes and swallowing hard before trying again. “That’s not possible.”

Now, it’s my turn to be shocked and confused. “What’s not possible?”

“You. Me. This. How could you possibly be falling for me?”

I blow out a relieved sigh that she’s not actually telling me we’re not possible. It’s just her crazy insecurity once again rearing its ugly head.

“How could I possibly not be? You’re amazing, Liv. You’re sweet, you’re funny, and you’re sexy as fuck. You aren’t afraid to put me in my place, and you’re smart as hell. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment I laid eyes on you. And having you here with me today, seeing you in the place that has come to mean so much to me, has only made me realize how much you’ve come to mean to me as well.”

“I just don’t—I don’t think—”

“So, don’t think. Stop putting so much damn thought into every single thing you do and just go with it. Listen to what your heart tells you. Not your head.”

I sit back in my seat, rather impressed with myself after my little speech. Dear Abby ain’t got nothing on Brandon Jeffers. Just call me the relationship guru.

Liv props her chin on her hand, her eyes sweeping over me in an assessing gaze. “Are you serious, Jeffers?”

“As a heart attack, baby. I want to be able to call you mine. And I want to know that I’m yours. So, I say we make this official. Olivia Hunter, will you be my girlfriend?”

A laugh sputters past her closed lips, and even I have to crack a smile at how absurd my words sound. I suddenly feel like I’m in the ninth grade, asking my crush to go steady with me. Except I never did that. Even in the ninth grade, I was a little douche bag. Never tied myself to any one girl for longer than a quick make-out sesh.

“This might be hard to believe, but that’s the first time I’ve ever uttered those words.”

She dabs at the tears in her eyes with her napkin, smiling over at me as she drops it back down to her lap. “Actually, considering whom I’m talking to, I don’t find that hard to believe at all. And I guess it makes me sort of happy that I’m the first girl you want to take to the prom.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tink. I never said nothing about no prom. I thought maybe we could try the winter semiformal first. You know, work our way into the big leagues.”

She rolls her eyes at me again, but there’s a tenderness in them that’s impossible to miss. I reach back across the table and take her hand in mine, running my thumb across the back of it in slow circles.

“So, what do you say, Tink? Are you willing to give us a shot?”

Her eyes drop down to the table for a moment, and I can see the thoughts running through her head. When she pulls her hand from mine and scoots back from the table, my heart skips a beat, fear that she’s going to storm out of here and out of my life rushing through me like a tidal wave.

But, instead, she walks around the table, tapping me on the shoulder when she reaches me. I slide my chair back to make room to stand, but before I can get to my feet, she plops down on my lap. Turning to face the people before us, she makes sure several have their cameras up and waiting before she looks at me.

“How’s this for an answer?” she asks just before she slams her lips against mine.