Page 8 of The Wrong Game

“You’re nervous,” he stated plainly, walking the new drink down to the woman at the end of the bar before returning to me. “Why don’t you ease into it, have a practice run before the real thing?”

I cocked a brow. “And how would I do that?”

He shrugged, those wicked lips cranking into a smirk yet again. “Take me.”

“You.” I deadpanned.

He nodded. “Yeah. Take me to the first game. I mean, look,” he gestured between us. “Obviously, we have chemistry. We could have a good time. I’ll buy the pizza and beer.”

“Sounds like you’re just looking for a free ticket to the first home game,” I said, leaning over the bar.

His eyes flashed down to my cleavage that I’d not-so-subtly pushed up with that movement, and when they flicked back to me, they were heated — darker, dusted with a lust-filled promise I somehow knew he could keep.

“Maybe.” He shrugged again. “Or maybe I want to be the first one to have the privilege of fulfilling your friend’s promise.”

“Her promise?” I asked, just as Belle slid into the bar seat next to me.

“What did I miss?”

The bartender tore his gaze from mine, smiling at Belle, instead. And that’s when I realized what herpromisehad been.

Getting me railed into next year.

I swallowed.

“Your friend here is nervous talking to guys she doesn’t know on the app,” the bartender said to Belle as I fought another blush. “So, she’s taking me to the first game, as a sort of practice run.”

“Oh!” Belle’s eyes lit up as she assessed me first, and then dragged her eyes over the bartender. A tinge of possessiveness touched my chest when she clearly liked what she saw. She chewed her thumbnail, nodding. “Oh, yes. I like this idea.”

“I didn’t agree yet,” I reminded him.

“Okay,” he challenged. “Then go ahead and respond to…” he peered over my phone screen. “Brad, there.”

He and Belle both watched me, Belle fighting a smile as one eyebrow rose on her perfectly symmetrical face. The bartender watched me with a satisfied smirk when my fingers didn’t move for the keys, and my jaw popped open, a laugh slipping through.

“Wow. You two just met and you’re already ganging up on me.”

“I like him,” Belle said easily. “And I like this plan.”

“You don’t even know him. Actually,” I said. “Idon’t even know his name yet.”

“Zach Bowen,” he said, extending his hand for mine. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I let him take my hand in his, trying to ignore the warm, buzzing energy that transferred when our skin touched.

“She’s Gemma,” Belle answered for me, since apparently my sticky tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. “Gemma Mancini.”

“So, Gemma Mancini,” he said, his hand still wrapped around mine, eyes hooded and sure. “What do you say? Let me be your practice round.”

“Say yes, stupid,”Belle whispered.

I nudged her with my elbow.

Zach held my gaze confidently, his dark eyes watching me like I really had no other choice. And in that moment, I couldn’t think of a reason not to say yes. He seemed fun. He was hot.

And it would save me from this stupid app for at least one more week.

“Fine,” I conceded, and Zach’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile, one that had a slight dimple popping under that delicious stubble.