Page 128 of Playing Mr. Perfect

“That would never have happened,” I say lightly.

“What are you talking about? I would have asked you out.”

“I have my doubts about that, but that’s not what I meant. I meant I would never have gone into a sports store.”

He cocks a grin. “You would’ve if you knew I worked there. You wouldn’t’ve been able to resist me.”

He tugs me into a kiss, and I can’t help teasing him.

“I think I know why your shoulder hurts. It’s from carrying around that big head of yours.”

He laughs. “You like my big noggin. Now, stop distracting me so I can figure out who was special enough to be on this wall with you.” He moves along the wall as he reads the graffiti for a solid fifteen minutes before pointing to a heart with partially occluded names inside in the upper-left corner. “Is that your parents’?”

“You have eagle eyes.”

“Not good enough, apparently. I don’t see your name or your initials.”

“Keep looking.”

While he scours the wall, I worry with my hands, mustering my courage to push past my insecurities, past my need to stay behind the emotional walls that have protected me for so long. My heart races, and I feel like I might puke, but I want to give him this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I grab a permanent marker, pull a chair over to the wall, and climb up on shaky legs.

“Careful.” Clay hurries behind me, putting his hands on my legs to keep me from falling. “What are you doing?”

I can’t answer. It takes all my focus to keep my hand steady enough to draw a big heart and write Reckless Loves Mr. Not So Perfect inside it. I know he can’t see it from where he’s standing, and as he helps me down off the chair, I touch his cheek, keeping his attention on me. “The reason you can’t find my name is that I’ve never written on the wall before.”

“Not even about you and Ravi?”

I shake my head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I never really knew why I didn’t write on the wall like everyone else. I just never wanted to. But now I think maybe it’s because my heart was waiting for you.” That last part comes out shaky and quiet, sounding as nervous as I feel.

He holds my gaze for a long moment before stepping back and looking up at the wall. I can barely breathe as he stares at it, then turns slowly toward me, his eyes serious.

“You don’t need to say it back” rushes from my lips. “I just wanted you to know before you go back to your real life, whenever that is.”

“My real life?” he says low and a little gruffly.

“You know what I mean. When you’re practicing or in season or whatever you call it.”

His jaw ticks, and silence stretches between us. Just as my insecurities start to get the better of me, he steps closer and runs his fingers down my cheek. “Reckless,” he says earnestly, his eyes searching mine as the warmest, most loving smile crawls across his face. “You are my real life. Don’t you know I’ve been falling for you since day one?”

Relief swamps me, tears threatening. “You have?”

“How could I not? You know how much I love a challenge.”

The tease in his voice is overshadowed by the emotions pulsing between us as he lowers his lips in a kiss so lovingly tender, it roots him deeper into my heart.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Pepper

After we leave the café, Clay says he wants to see the town through my eyes, which makes me love him even more. I love all the parts of us, but this part, where we can walk hand in hand and conversation comes easily, without awkward silences or the need for entertainment, is one of my favorites. Every now and again, I look at him, trying to figure out how we got here, or we look at each other with incredulous expressions, like we can’t believe we’ve fallen for each other. We don’t say a word. He just pulls me into a kiss, or we both laugh. I love that about us, too.

He lets my overthinking brain come out to play without picking it apart.

I take him to the site of my first kiss, and my competitive guy tries to kiss away those memories. When I show him the tree on the hill by the old church, he takes a picture of us there. I remember how stunned I was when he took that first picture of us in Paris in front of the bookstore. I never would have guessed we’d end up here, and now I can’t imagine my life without him in it.