Page 52 of Offsides

Theo smiled brightly at him, her eyes glittering from all the lights that surrounded them. Cowboy’s insides melted again from the power of that smile, just as they had all night long. Her smile hadn’t faded once, even as she was wiping away tears during the Cirque du Soleil show. That smile just might be his undoing.

“That was so beautiful,” she said, when they were finally outside the casino, the sounds of the busy street replacing the dings and trills of the gambling floor. “I’ve seen video clips online, but actually getting to see all the twisting, and twirling, and acrobatics in person…it was just…wow. And the water!”

“I was not expecting the water,” he added.

“You bought the tickets; how did you not know there would be water?” she laughed, stepping in closer to him.

Cowboy slid his arm around her waist, her body calling to him like a siren song. All he wanted to do was hold her, even if she did tower over him in those heels at the moment. His hand grazed down her back, landing on her ass and giving it a quick squeeze, earning him another giggle.

“When I made the reservations, I asked the guy which show was best, and he said that one, so that’s the one I went with. He failed to mention there was a 1.5-million-gallon pool involved.”

“I’m glad he didn’t. It was a cool surprise for both of us.”

“Speaking of surprises, I have one more left for you,” he said, thankful for the segue.

“What?”

Cowboy stepped back, cool air rushing between them, hating the feeling of letting her go. He really did just want to hold on to her forever.

“Follow me.”

Theo squeezed his hand, her smile still just as bright, even as the question of what he was doing rose in her eyes. He winked, hoping to reassure her that this next surprise was just as good as all the others he had up his sleeve. In his mind, this next stop was going to be the best of all of them. A chance for him to spoil her a little and get in some quality time before the chaos of the tournament.

“Britt!” Theo gasped, as the hostess showed them their table.

“Have a seat, darlin’,” he replied, placing a gentle kiss to her cheek and pulling out her chair.

Theo slipped into her chair, her mouth still slightly ajar in awe. Iconic table number 56 was small and round, placed just so in a corner of the Eiffel Tower restaurant, perfectly overlooking the strip and the Bellagio Fountains. The view was spectacular—as promised—but it was nothing compared to the beauty in the seat next to him. Taking a moment to drink her in, Cowboy couldn’t believe he’d dismissed her so easily. He’d almost let his own pride over hating reporters get in the way of knowing her. That hurt. But tonight wasn’t about hurt. It was about them.

“Britt, this is too much,” Theo whispered. Her words said one thing, but he could tell that she loved it. He just hoped it was making her feel as melty inside as he was.

“I think it’s just enough.”

A waiter appeared, taking their drink orders, disappearing just as quickly.

“Are you nervous about the tournament?” Theo asked, sliding her hand across the table to his.

“Are you asking as the reporter embedded in my club, or my gorgeous dinner companion?”

“Does that change your answer?”

“No,” he admitted. “I trust you. And you proved the other day with Beau that you’re not in this to make it salacious.”

“I’m in this for the love of the game,” she told him, her eyes lighting up all over again. He noticed early on how expressive her eyes were, but tonight it seemed to be kicked up a notch. So much emotion was right there in her soft brown irises. “I told you, I want to highlight the team and the success you’ve had so far. Because it really is incredible. Beau’s shitty marriage has nothing to do with that. That’s why I left it out. Now, if it affects the way he plays…”

“Between you and me, I think, if anything, there won’t be any negative effects from it. At least not on the field. He’s happy for the escape, and the game will give him something to focus on. He’s been really great these last few days in training and has been excited about the tournament.”

“Are you excited about it?” she asked, circling back to her original question.

“I am. I really believe in this team. I’ve played for the Fremont Cup—won it once with San Diego—so I know how hard it can be. It’s intense. But these guys have what it takes.”

“I love your passion,” she told him.

“I love yours.”

“I don’t know that I would call myself passionate.”

“Then what word would you use?”