Page 29 of Caught Looking

I clicked play and watched as Seth Butler skipped down the sidewalk in his Mantas onesie with Roscoe happily prancing on his leash. He stopped and gave the photographer a finger wave and a huge grin, then kept skipping with Roscoe all the way to the park.

I threw my phone down and groaned. Seth Butler wasn’t a gentleman. He was a thief. He’d stolen my goddamn heart.

8

SETH

“Cheeseburger, sweet potato fries, and your amber ale.” Annalise snapped the menu shut.

This was our very first date. Well, our firstrealone anyway. I woke up on cloud nine and took my cock-blocking buddy for a walk. One, because he needed his morning constitutional, and two, because I wanted to fuck with the paps outside.

Sure enough, my appearance sent them into a frantic fury. Yes, I slept over. Yes, I was still in the onesie. And yes, I walked her damn dog.

I ignored the phone in my pocket that kept vibrating with updates from my publicist. To say she was pleased with our latest stunts was an understatement. The photos and videos of us exiting Dottie’s in our onesies was popular, but not as popular as us hopping in my truck and jumping the curb. But those paled in comparison to the popularity of the videos of us arriving at her house. Apparently the protective way I escorted her out of my truck and up to the door had the romantics of the world practically fainting.

And now my morning walk was making the rounds. It was popular with both the female and male demographics. Not that I really gave a fuck. All that mattered was that it was pissing off Owen Montgomery.

So when Annalise emerged from her room in a sexy as fuck tank top and my new favorite pair of tangerine shorts, I asked her out to brunch. She had to be at the practice field by noon and I had to be at the stadium not long after that. So brunch it was.

“We’ll have to eat somewhere different every time,” I groaned. We needed some different options. I hated that the best solution for privacy was to hole up in my fucking condo. It was one step above a frat house these days. It had always solidly been a bachelor pad, but with my second bedroom turning into a bunkhouse for utility players being called up and sent down from the minors, it had gotten messy and very…male.

It wasn’t an ideal place to bring Annalise. She deserved better.

We had an early afternoon game tomorrow. Then we hit the road. Something I dreaded since it would take me away from Annalise. Security. I needed to hire security. Whenever I couldn’t be with her. Maybe even when I was. If things kept at this pace it would just be a matter of time before someone crossed a line.

Security was at the top of the list. I spun my water glass on the table.

“What’s wrong?”

When I didn’t answer she leaned forward and touched my hand. The brewery wasn’t busy at this time of day. The sun was bright but we were under the roof. A breeze picked up her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. Roscoe shifted on the ground at our feet.

I liked the way it felt when she touched me. Did she know how much it calmed me? Did she want to touch me as much as I wanted to touch her? I forgot how complicated a new relationship was. I hadn’t done it since Lori.

I flipped my hand and took her fingers in mine. “I’m hiring security. Please don’t fight me on it.”

Maybe it was the worry in my voice or the look on my face, but she nodded once, simply accepting that this was something that was going to happen.

“When we’re on the road you should stay at Rhett’s. It’s safer.”

“I’ll ask him. I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.”

I gave her hand a squeeze and sat back so the waitress could set our beers down. And even though I liked having an unencumbered view of her, she was too damn far away, so I picked up my chair and slid around the table so I could hold her hand all the damn time.

Because I could. Because we weren’t fake anymore.

“Jealous of the table?” she teased.

“Damn straight.”

She laughed. It was a beautiful sound. “So you’re a same-side-of-the-table guy?”

I shrugged. “Depends on the situation.”

She fought a smile. “Good to know.”

“Are you sad about it?”

“Not at all. I like holding hands.”