Chapter 7

LYNN

Is this really happening? I mean, I'm not an idiot, so I know it's happening, but how in the world did the universe just deliver me my dream date, Counting Crows and all!? Do I owe someone my firstborn now? Is my soul promised to Beelzebub without my knowledge?

I know it wasn't the smartest thing in the world to get in a stranger's car and let him drive me to the middle of nowhere, but I have this palpable gut feeling that Joey is one of the good guys. And after that kiss? Now I know he's not only good, he's talented. The way his tongue dissolved me into a puddle of gooey hormones was expert-level. And I did not miss the impressive press of his package against my stomach when he pulled me into him.

I'm gonna have to explore the entire gamut of baseball analogies when I reflect on this later.

"Lemme drive you back to your car," he suggests. And while I want to argue that we haven't explored the blanket-in-the-truck-bed portion of my dream date, I know it's the smart move to leave things where they are for tonight. I let him retake my hand and open the passenger door for me.

He really is dreamy as hell.

The normal me would be looking for flaws or waiting for the other shoe to drop (because it always does), but I've somehow ditched her for the night. Instead, I'm some foreign version of myself that believes in diving in headfirst and worrying about reality later. She rarely comes out to play anymore, but I'm feeling her hard tonight.

Hell, I didn't even balk when I found out Joey lied about his job. Well, lied is probably a bit harsh, but still. Usually, I'm out the door Road Runner style when a guy gives me any indication that he's a game player. Or a Neanderthal. Or a jock (too many cringe-worthy teenage memories of bro chest bumps and chugging contests). But it's easy to imagine why Joey might not want to advertise. I've heard some of the women talking in the stadium bathrooms—you'd think they were bartering over solid gold sides of beef instead of watching a bunch of men throw a ball.

In fact, Joey wanting to hang out without first trying to impress me with something a lot of women would find irresistible almost makes me like him more. He's sweet. And hot. He's basically my favorite condiment—hot honey. And he tastes just as good.

The baseball thing… yeah, that's not ideal. I'm not into fighting over a guy, and I don't like being the center of attention. But it's who he is, and I do like him. This is stupid anyway. We're not even dating, so I refuse to give it that much thought. We'll just see where this goes and have some fun along the way. Easy peasy.

But even as I tell myself that, it's impossible to ignore the way this already feels almost fated.

Gulp.

"So, tell me more about your family," Joey says as we reverse course back to Asheville.

I glance over at his profile. "My mama is a complete nut, but she's a lovable one. Besides that, it's just the degenerates. Oh, and our family skunk."

"Your family what?" He laughs.

"Skunk. His name is Mango, and he might be a bigger troublemaker than all the rest of us put together." Truth.

Joey's narrowed eyes flash my way. "I can't tell if you're messing with me or not."

I grin. "Not one bit. He had his sprayer removed as a baby, so he doesn't stink or anything. He's kind of like a mix between a cat and a dog, except I'm pretty sure he's smarter than both." When Joey just shakes his head, I repeat, "I told you my mama is a nut."

"I grew up with dogs, but the weirdest that ever got was when I wanted to name one Smegma." When I snort-laugh, he hurries to explain. "I heard it on the school bus and thought it meant something entirely different. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when he had to explain it to me."

"Oh my god." I cringe. "That is beyond disgusting. But at least it's original. I can guarantee he would have been the only Smegma at obedience school."

"True." He nods like he's giving the idea some serious thought.

I roll my eyes. "What about you?"

"Only child here." He checks for traffic and turns onto a main road leading back to town. "Just me and my parents. Pretty boring." He glances over again. "You didn't mention your dad. Is he not in the picture?"

"He passed when I was thirteen."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks." But I wave him off. Nothing kills a vibe like talking about a dead parent. "My mama thinks that's why my brothers treat me the way they do—they've got some misguided notion that they need to fill his shoes or something."

"I can see that. Besides, it's kind of a big brother's job to protect his sister, isn't it? I mean, I don't have a sister, but I've got a cousin I'm close to, and when I found out her ex was cheating on her, I broke his nose." He shrugs. "It's what we do."

Alarm bells start ringing in my head, but Joey clearly doesn't hear them because he continues, "Guys are protective. At least the good ones are."

"Ugh." I'm not about to hide my feelings on the matter.

But Joey is more amused than anything. "Are you telling me if some guy cheated on you or you found out he was a drug dealer or something, you wouldn't want somebody to interfere?"

"If you mean interfering by giving me information about said loser that I didn't already have, then yes. If you mean stringing said loser up by his nuts, absolutely not. I can take care of myself."

He wisely backs down. "Okay, fair enough. I take it your brothers are the stringing-up-by-the-nuts kind of guys."

"One hundred percent. It's ridiculous." I frown at him. How did we get on this topic anyway?

"I think I'm going to start agreeing with you. Because, at this point, I get the idea I'll need full pads and a cup if I ever meet them."

I facepalm at that and laugh, but he's not wrong. "Are you telling me you're a drug dealer and a serial cheater?"

He turns to me and puts up two fingers in salute. "Never. I swear on Smegma's grave."

All I can do is shake my head.

Twenty minutes later, we're back downtown, and Joey hasn't revealed any more signs that he may wear a loincloth and hunt saber tooth tigers in his spare time. We pull into the small parking lot of the brewery, and he maneuvers into an empty spot near Priscilla before getting out to open my door for me again.

"So, the team is going on the road tomorrow morning, but I'd love to see you again when I get back. You up for it?"

I take his hand and slide off the seat, my sandals crunching on the gravel. "Absolutely."

He doesn't let go, instead lacing our fingers together as he smiles down at me. My stomach swarms with pterodactyls. How I know they're pterodactyls, I can't say. They just are.

"In the meantime, I'll hit you up on Words with Friends, lynnqqueen."

There's that deep rumble again, and it has me fighting a shiver. So he punched some jerk in the face. Big deal. I'm sure he deserved it. All I can do is smile up at him. "I hope you're not a sore loser."

He barks out a laugh, and I get to watch the show again. I can't decide what's more beautiful, the sight of this man laughing or the stars in the sky out in the country.

When he brings his head back down, his eyes are still crinkled with amusement. "Next time, you pick the place. I didn't realize you don't like beer, so that was my bad."

I shake my head, still a little distracted by his hotness and the pterodactyls. "No, it's fine. I'm not actually old enough to drink, so it doesn't matter."

As my words hang in the air between us, I feel a shift, like a spell being broken. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, I want to punch myself in the face because Joey's grin falls faster at my words than a greasy stadium dog in a toddler's hands.

Me and my big mouth.