20. Dane

20

DANE

“No. Absolutely not.” Morgan stands with her arms crossed, trying to look pissed. She doesn’t know that the way her oversized t-shirt hangs down to mid-thigh, coupled with her high ponytail, overrides the effort and makes her look adorable.

I wear the athletic clothes I keep in the trunk of my car for backup. My wrinkled dress shirt and tuxedo pants told the world exactly what I’d been up to last night when I went to my car while Morgan showered this morning.

Thankfully, not many of Morgan’s neighbors were roaming the parking garage at that hour. I got my clothes and returned to the apartment in record time, but not before I noticed the area around Morgan’s apartment was far from well-kept.

Abandoned storefronts had plywood nailed over their windows. Graffiti covered the surfaces, and empty beer cans peppered the street. At least Morgan’s apartment garage required a code to access it. That small level of security made me feel a little better knowing Morgan lives here alone.

I wonder if her brothers know where she lives. I can’t imagine the protective brothers wouldn’t be concerned for her safety.

“Come on, Morgan.” I tilt my head toward the sand volleyball courts behind the Mexican restaurant. “I want to see what you’ve got.”

Carter told me about this place a while ago. Long before things between Morgan and I began to mend, I thought about bringing her here. “Or are you scared you’re going to lose?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “You know I was a collegiate player, right?”

“I do.” I let my eyes drag over her, glad I no longer have to hide the fact I find her attractive. “Maybe that means you’ll be able to keep up with me.”

I wink, and she laughs.

I’ll never get tired of that sound.

“Come on, Morgan.” I step onto the sandy court. “What are you afraid of?”

Once again, I call on the competitive edge I know lives inside every athlete.

She scowls. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Morgan kicks off her tennis shoes and pulls off her socks before stepping onto the golden sand. The air temperature is cool, and goosebumps pepper my arms, but it will warm up once we start playing.

“Great.” I pick up the ball I’d traded my ID for from the restaurant’s hostess and spin it in the air before catching it. “You pick which side you want to play on.”

“I don’t think it matters.” Morgan gives a pointed look at the buildings surrounding the area. There’s no breeze coming through to affect the game.

Even so, she ducks under the net and posts up in the center of the sand. “Each player gets three hits before the ball needs to make it over the net. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She nods. “Cool. First to fifteen wins. You serve first.”

I step back behind the blue strip of fabric outlining the court and oblige. My palm smacks the ball. It sails over the net.

Morgan reads the trajectory perfectly, kneeling on one leg to get under the serve and send it into the air. She then stands and moves underneath it, bumping it once to set herself up. She winds her arms back and then leaps into the air, preparing to spike the ball down on my side of the net.

I leap forward to where I think she’ll send the ball, but she changes her angle at the last minute. I don’t have time to adjust. Sand flies into the air when the ball hits the ground.

“Point.”

I stand and dust the sand off. “Well done.”

Morgan smirks. “Thanks. My serve.”

I roll the ball under the net, suddenly wary of what I’ve gotten myself into.

I scored a whopping three points by the time Morgan scored fifteen. Beads of sweat roll down my face. I’m in shape, but the endurance it takes to sprint across the sand to intercept Morgan’s forceful serves and shots is a hell of a workout.

When Morgan’s final point hits the ground at my feet, I sit and lay back on the cool sand to catch my breath.

Morgan’s musical laugh draws closer. “Come on, Dane. Was that really the best you could do?”

I lift my head and take in her teasing expression and the twinkle of amusement in her eye.

She’s so fucking beautiful.

“You tricked me.” I plop my head back on the ground. “I’ve been hustled.”

“This was your idea,” she reminds me with another laugh. “And I warned you I played in college.”

“That’s exactly what a hustler would say.” I crack a smile when I hear her snort.

“I thought you’d be better at volleyball,” she says. “Valerie told me you were decent at that resort.”

“Valerie and her friend weren’t professionals,” I defend myself.

I’d partnered with Valerie’s friend, Megan, while Carter and Valerie teamed up after he and I approached the women to join their friendly game.

I had a feeling Valerie and Carter were going to hit it off. It was the first time I’d seen Carter interested in a woman since the drama with his ex started. Megan felt the same way about Valerie, so the two of us made a plan to make sure they’d see each other for dinner that same evening—a mission we accomplished.

“Come on, you whimp.” Morgan holds out her hand. “Let’s get something to eat. I worked up an appetite with all that winning.”

I take her hand and push up as she pulls to help me stand. She starts to brush sand off my back. When her hand grazes my ass, I turn and capture her head between my hands. I kiss her. Anyone on the restaurant’s patio can see us, but I don’t care. I’ve wanted to kiss Morgan for months. Now that I can, I plan to do so at every opportunity.

Morgan doesn’t seem to mind. She returns my kiss with equal enthusiasm. Blood pulses to my cock. I have to break the kiss or risk popping a boner in soft athletic shorts that will leave little to the imagination.

I take her hand and lace our fingers, leading her to the patio. “Let’s feed my girl before she gets hangry.”

It’s nearly eleven in the morning, close enough to lunch that we should be able to order something from the savory menu. If not, I bet this place has excellent breakfast tacos.

We sit at the tall table the hostess led us to when we arrived. A minute later, a server appears with two glasses of water, chips, and salsa. He says he will give us time to look over the menu, then disappears inside. Only one other couple is on the patio, and they already have their food.

I scan the menu when I feel eyes on me. I look up and see Morgan chewing her bottom lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. No.” She frowns. “I don’t know.”

I lower the menu and do my best to hide my worry. “Talk to me, Caldwell. What’s up?”

Please don’t tell me you’re regretting what happened last night.

I won’t be able to go back to the way things were. Not anymore.

“I don’t want to be that girl…” She trails off. I wait for her to continue, but she resumes chewing her lip, looking uncertain.

“Morgan,” I lower my voice. “Don’t overthink it. Just say what you need to say.”

Her eyes flicker between mine, and then she nods slowly.

“Okay.” She exhales. “I was just wondering… what is this?”

My forehead creases. “What do you mean?”

She flushes. “I mean, is this a casual hookup? I’m totally okay if it is,” she adds quickly. “I just want to know. Communication is really important in situations like this. Especially because we work together. I don’t want things to be weird or complicated.”

I stare at her, trying my best to keep a neutral expression. I’m afraid I’ll scare her away if she knows the depths of what I’m feeling after our night together.

Morgan misreads my attempt and winces. “You know what? Never mind. Let’s just enjoy lunch.”

She lifts her menu to hide her face, but not before I see the tightness around her eyes.

I grab the top of her menu and lower it to the table. Morgan’s eyes bounce between mine and the flat menu. I’ve never seen her look so unsure of herself. I’d think it was adorable if it weren’t for the fact that she’s uncertain of me.

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Morgan. This.” I motion between us. “ This is not a fling. Not by a long shot.”

Her eyes widen. “It’s not?”

“No,” I say, then hesitate. “Not unless you want it to be?”

God, please don’t let her want this to be a fling.

She presses her lips together. “I’m not sure.” The words are a knife to the gut. “This all happened quickly. I haven’t had time to think about it.”

“This has been months in the making,” I contradict her words. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you at Carter’s, and that never changed. Not even after I thought you gave me a fake number.”

Remorse flickers over her expression at the reminder of the miscommunication between us.

“But we work together now.”

“And we’ve already told the Ranchers about our relationship when we started the fake dating ploy,” I remind her. “The only thing different now is that we’re really together.”

“So… are you saying we’re dating?”

“Yes.”

She blinks, surprised by my blunt response. Then, her embarrassment fades, and a mischievous grin tugs on her lips. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“You agreed when you came on my face last night.”

“Dane!” Morgan gasps and looks around to make sure no one hears me. Seeing the other couple eating in comfortable silence, the tension in her shoulders fades, but she narrows her eyes on me. “ Language.”

I laugh. For such a confident woman, she sure does get flustered by the mention of sex.

I put my amusement aside and acknowledge this is an important conversation. Morgan is right; communication is key to any relationship, especially a successful one.

And I have every intention of making this a successful relationship.

“Morgan.” I dip my chin to encourage her to meet my gaze.

She licks her lips. “Yeah?”

“I’m crazy about you,” I say with no preamble. “I have been for a while. Last night wasn’t a fling for me. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“You do?”

“More than anything.”

Her timid smile is adorable. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”

I never knew such simple words could make me so fucking happy.

I stand and plant my hands on the table, leaning forward to kiss her. Morgan leans forward and meets my lips. The kiss is not as long as I’d like, but I plan to revisit it when we’re alone again.

I sit back in my chair. The server returns to take our order. I scan the menu and pick the first item that sounds good. Morgan chooses a chicken taco bowl.

When the server excuses himself to place our orders, I extend my arm over the table. Morgan places her hand in mine with a happy smile I return.

My phone rings.

I frown and lean back, sliding it out of my pocket to see the screen.

Dad

I hit the side button to ignore the call. I have zero interest in talking to the man who’s done nothing but stir animosity within our family unit lately.

I retake Morgan’s hand.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“No one. Let’s go back to talking about how bad you wanted me to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh my gosh.” She stares up at the patio roof and shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You absolutely should have.” I squeeze her fingers. “It’s been torture being around you these past few weeks, wanting to kiss you but thinking you weren’t interested.”

She scoffs. “Sure.”

“I’m serious, Morgan. You're all I've thought about from the moment I saw you in that office. I hated how tense things were between us.”

Her expression softens. “I wish you would’ve said something.”

“What would I have said? I thought you gave me a fake number.”

“About that.” She frowns. “Why in the world would you think that?”

“What do you mean?”

She waves her free hand over me. “You’re Dane Larson. A stupidly attractive, rich athlete. Why would you think I’d give you a fake number?”

I smirk at the compliment. “Tell me more about how hot you think I am.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. You’re a catch. I don’t understand why you thought I wouldn’t give you my real number.”

“You’re acting like you aren’t a catch, too,” I counter with a pointed look.

“I’m not a rich athlete.”

“No, but you’re an intelligent, driven, and sexy-as-hell woman,” I declare. “Any guy would be lucky to be noticed by you, let alone get your number.”

She tilts her head to the side. “But you didn’t think you were that guy?”

“I thought I was.” I remember our kiss on the dance floor. “But when I realized you gave me the wrong number, I assumed I was mistaken.”

Unhappiness flickers over her features. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“So am I.” I run my thumb over her knuckles. “But I’m glad we got a second chance at this. And it’s not a chance I plan to let slip through my fingers.”

“Me either.” She smiles.

I smile back.

My phone rings again.

I grumble a curse at the interruption, expecting it to be my dad. My lips press into a hard line when I see Eli’s name instead.

“Sorry,” I tell Morgan. “I need to take this.”

“No problem.” She waves for me to answer and picks up her water.

I accept the call. “Hey man, let me call you back. I’m out with Morgan.”

“Sorry, bro. I wouldn’t call if it weren’t important.”

My chest tightens with unease when I hear my brother’s strained words. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“No.” His voice cracks. “It’s Mom. She’s in the hospital.”