Chapter 18 #2
behind him along with two glasses and a small tray of vegetables. When he turned to see her barefoot in his shirt, his face
pulled into a warm smile. He stared at her bare legs for a hot beat. Then his eyes traveled over her chest visibly pointed
through the threadbare T-shirt. He reached out to wrap an arm around her and pull her close, and in doing so, skimmed her
thigh to her hip and felt that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
He froze and noticeably stopped breathing. “Are you trying to kill me, Emmy Jameson?”
With a grin, she plucked a carrot off the island and snapped it between her teeth. “Yes. This has been my long game all along
to finally best you.”
“Hmm.” He buried his lips in her messy hair. “You win.”
She pushed away from him and hopped up on the island. The icy granite through the shirt made her shiver. “What’s for dinner?”
“I hope you like Bolognese. I haven’t gone shopping since we got back, and it’s the only thing I have all the ingredients
for.”
She uncorked the wine to fill two glasses. “Sounds great. Would you like a glass to toast to Hollander choking at the plate?”
She nodded at the TV where the center fielder, their favorite topic of debate, was walking into the batter’s box.
“Yes, but he’s not going to choke.”
“He’s totally going to choke. With a runner on third, his batting average is one twenty-five, Gabe.”
“Exactly. Right where we want him.”
“Sure, if you’re the other team.” She handed him one of the glasses she’d filled. He clinked it against hers and sipped.
“No, if you’re this team. He has a predictable pattern: troughs and peaks like anyone. He evens out.”
“You did not just mansplain regression to the mean to me.”
He smirked at the playful scowl on her face. “All I’m saying is he’ll pull out of it. His highest highs always come after
the lowest lows.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t pay twenty million dollars over three years for Hollander’s brand of lows.” She pointed at the TV right
as he swung and missed on a one-one count. She threw up her arms. “Why would you swing at that? It was ten miles outside!”
She caught the grimace on Gabe’s face like he agreed but didn’t want to admit it as he turned back to the stove. Emmy smiled
to herself and snapped another carrot between her teeth. As he continued to cook, she watched the muscles in his back move
under his shirt. He reached for the cutting board and dumped its contents into the pan. Then he opened a cabinet and stretched
for a measuring cup on a high shelf.
She could easily get used to watching him make dinner.
“So, if we’re going to do this, what’s it going to look like?” she asked.
Gabe turned and gestured at the room like it was obvious. “Like this.”
“What, you cooking me dinner while I sit on the counter in your old T-shirt and tell you how you’re wrong about your feelings about the game?” She pointed to the TV with her hand holding her wineglass.
“Yes, or you could be naked if you prefer. And I’m not wrong.”
“You’re so wrong,” she said just to egg him on.
“Emmy, I’m not. When he’s under two hundred at the plate, he steps it up. He picks his pitches better. His OBP is directly
correlated. Because of his slump, the probability of him getting on base tonight is higher. Did you run the model I wrote
for you?” Gabe let out a little huff. He walked back over to the island where she sat and picked up his wine.
She coyly smiled at him. “You’re so hot when you talk about statistics. When you get passionate, this squiggly little vein pops out in your temple.” She brushed her thumb over it and bit her lip.
He held her gaze for a beat, cooling off, and then smiled back. “Careful, that’s my thinking vein.” He leaned his head away.
“So, did you? Run the model?”
“I haven’t had the chance yet, no.”
“Well, you should.”
“Why? So you can do a victory dance about proving me wrong?” she said flatly.
“The opposite actually. I wrote it for you to level the playing field, so to speak. Since you can’t be on the field, I figured out how to approximately quantify what I learned from that experience. Now you can have the same advantage.”
Emmy stared at him, astounded. When she’d told him to write her an equation, it had mostly been a taunt because she didn’t
think it was possible. But he took the challenge in a direction that had her heart primed to explode. And her blood on fire.
“That might be the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him toward
her.
His smile grew. “So, is math your kink, then?”
“When you do it, yeah.”
His mouth landed on hers when she yanked him close. She wrapped her arms around his neck and indulged in the feel of his lips
moving from her mouth to her jaw and down her throat. It was far more potent than the wine. They went at it for long enough
that she nearly forgot what they had been talking about.
“But really though, how’s this going to work?” she asked.
“Seems to be working pretty fine right now,” he mumbled to her flushed skin.
She softly moaned when he traced his tongue across her collarbone. “I mean at work. I don’t want to go from being the only
girl to the only girl who’s also sleeping with her co-worker.”
At this, Gabe unsuctioned his face from Emmy’s neck. He pulled back and gave her a hard look, knowing what she meant. One that said he’d had the same thought and was frustrated on her behalf all the same. “Of course not. I don’t want that either.”
She could already see it, the perceptions people would have of her. Even if it wasn’t true, she’d never shake the suspicion
of having slept her way to advancement. All it would take was a whisper and she’d have a permanent reputation. He, on the
other hand, would probably get a congratulatory slap on the back. It was wildly and infuriatingly unfair.
They held each other for a quiet moment, their breath mingling and hearts beating with the obstacle between them finally acknowledged.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Emmy said.
His lips spread into a little grin. “I am thinking many, many things, Emmy Jameson.”
She grinned back. “Tell me the important ones.”
“Okay. I think you look great in that shirt. I think I want you to spend the night. And I think we were idiots for ever thinking
we could leave this in Mexico. What are you thinking?”
She smiled again as a flush warmed her cheeks. “I think I’m going to steal this shirt. I think I do want to spend the night,
and I think I agree. Complete idiots.” She looped her arms around his neck again and pulled him into another kiss. It fizzled
all the way down to her toes as he held her close.
“So, what are we going to do?” Gabe asked when they stopped.
“Flee to Mexico and never come back.”
He softly laughed. “I’m serious.”
He was too close and too cuddly for her to answer seriously yet. “Well, judging by your inability to keep your hands to yourself at work.” She jabbed him in the ribs with each word. “And seeing that you’re a constant distraction—!”
He flinched and laughed like it tickled. “Hey, I wasn’t even doing anything in that meeting today. I was just sitting there paying attention, which couldn’t be said for you.”
“Do not underestimate your appeal while being studious, Olson.” She jabbed him in the ribs again, and he stumbled back a step.
“So, all I’ve got to do is talk about math and look smart, and you’re a sure thing.”
“I’m a simple creature.”
“You—” Gabe said, and grabbed Emmy’s dangling foot. He pulled her leg out straight and then used it to reel himself back in
by gripping higher and higher until he got to her thigh. He hitched her knee around his hip and pulled her against him once
more. “—are anything but simple, Emmy Jameson.” He finished his sentence and brushed her mussed hair out of her face. He looked
right in her eyes. “You’re the boss. Whatever you want to do, I will follow your lead on this one.”
Emmy gazed back at the open vulnerability on Gabe’s face and felt her chest lift. Something her sister had said weeks ago
about them jumping together flitted through her mind. Despite the challenges that might lie ahead, she did want to make it work. And she could see on his face he did too.
“I think we have to go to HR,” she said. “Come clean. If we’re going to do this, it has to be on the record. I’m already in
an uphill battle as one of the only women in the department, and I don’t want any rumors or assumptions.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Good. And once that’s taken care of, I guess we just... see where this goes?” Her voice floated up with an optimistic
inflection. She raised her brows and smiled at him.
He gave her a wicked grin in return and grabbed her hips. With a grunt, he scooped her off the counter and started walking
toward the couch with his face buried in her neck and her legs wrapped around his back. With his hot lips working a trail
down to her collarbone, she shivered in the most delicious way.
“Dinner is going to burn,” she said, and leaned into him.
“We can order takeout,” he muttered as he lowered onto the couch so she was straddling his lap. He slid his hands up her thighs
and beneath the shirt to her hips.
Emmy tilted her head back when Gabe pressed his mouth to her neck. From the corner of her eye, she saw the game on TV, and
to her shock, Hollander had made it to first base, and the runner on third had scored. “Oh, hey, look. He didn’t choke.”
Gabe paused his assault of her senses to look over her shoulder. His face split into a grin. “Told you I wasn’t wrong.”