Page 67 of Hometown Halftime

Her eyes go wide. “You made reservations?”

“Of course I did.” I eye her suspiciously. “Does that surprise you?”

Her shoulder lifts. “I just thought we’d wing it. Or at least that’s what I’m used to.”

I shake my head, looking in her eyes. “You deserve better than that, Kinsey. If a guy can’t make a simple reservation, how can they handle anything else in a relationship?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but then her lips shut.

Picking up my bag, I say, “See you at six, Kitten.”

Chapter twenty-nine

Kinsey

“Why am I so fucking nervous?” I mutter to myself, drawing a slow breath into my lungs as I try to steady my hand long enough to get mascara on without stabbing myself in the eye.

It’s just dinner. No big deal.

Sitting at my brightly lit makeup vanity, I lean closer to the mirror, checking both eyes, tilting my chin side to side to make sure nothing’s smudged. Satisfied enough, I toss the mascara back into the cluttered drawer of my vanity, turn off the lights, and rise from the chair.

At my full-length mirror, I give myself a once-over. I opted for a casual outfit because this date is casual. I’m wearing wide-leg jeans, a maroon square-neck tee, and black Adidas sneakers. Clothes that shout that I’m completely not spiraling over a man picking me up for dinner.

I reach for a couple of thin gold chains and layer them at my collarbone, just enough to catch the light. Then I spray a few spritzes of perfume on my wrist and neck.

You’re fine. This is fine, totally casual.

I head into the kitchen to swap out my everyday bag for a small clutch. As I slide my wallet inside, I pause. A strange sound echoes through the apartment. A low, strained creak—like something dragging or shifting.

I stand still, listening to see if the noise would come again. But all I hear is silence.

I live in a building just off Main Street with three other one-bedroom units. I’ve heard worse. Pets running across a room above me, footsteps, someone dropping something heavy upstairs at two in the morning. Old buildings make noise. That’s just part of the deal.

I shake it off and zip my clutch closed just as a knock hits my door, unexpected enough to make me jump. I press my hand to my chest as I walk over and pull the door open. Riley stands on the other side.

“Hey,” he says, with a sweet smile.

“Hey, Riley.” I step back to let him in. “Give me two seconds to turn everything off, and we can head out.”

He nods, stepping inside. I take him in through my periphery as I turn off the lamp in my living room. Dark-wash jeans strain against the muscles of his thighs. He has on a fluffy, light-blue cable-knit sweater that only makes his shoulders look bigger. He looks…soft. Like a man I would like to cuddle on a couch with for a few hours.

This is going to be a problem.

I turn quickly, grabbing my cropped leather jacket off the chair. As I slide one arm through the sleeve, that sound comes back, only this time, it’s louder.

Riley goes still behind me. “What was that?”

I glance toward the kitchen, unease prickling along my spine. “I’m not sure. That’s the second time I’ve—”

A sharp crack sounds through the apartment. My eyes snap up just as a thin fracture snakes across the kitchen ceiling.

“Kinsey…” Riley says in a warning.

Before I can react, he’s on me. One hand gripping my arm, the other grabbing my purse off the counter as he pulls me backward, just at the moment the ceiling gives way.

It doesn’t just crumble—it completely drops. The drywall slamming to the floor in a violent crash, exploding into wet clumps as water pours through the opening in a sudden, roaring rush.

“Oh, my God!” I shout, stumbling back into Riley.