Aaaand of course. Thea turned around, a string of unintelligible, made-up curse words flitting through her mind. A dad in jeans and a buzz cut held out his hand to Gavin, who stopped politely—as he always did for fans.

Thea pasted on her fake smile and extended her hand, as well. “Thea Scott.”

The man limply shook her fingers. How could there still be men in the world who wouldn’t shake a woman’s hand? He barely spared her a glance as he turned his attention back to Gavin.

“Tough break about that last game,” the man said. “I can’t believe that last call. The umpire must have been blind.”

A vein bulged in Gavin’s jaw. He hated it when people blamed the officials for losses. “Our fault for letting one bad call lead to a loss. I didn’t play as well as I should have.”

“Nah, it was Del Hicks, man. He missed that pop-up. His contract is up, right? Maybe we can get rid of him this year. Shed some dead weight.”

“Del Hicks is m-m-m—”

Thea would’ve known just by the look on the other man’s face that Gavin had started stammering. The asshole looked everywhere but at Gavin. As if stuttering was something to be embarrassed about. Thea despised people like him. They claimed to be such huge fans of Gavin’s, but the minute he began to stutter, they acted like he had a contagious disease.

Acting on nothing more than instinct, Thea slid her hand into Gavin’s and squeezed. His fingers closed around hers, and he exhaled. He started again. “Del Hicks is actually my best friend,” he said coldly.

“Oh. Well, I’ll, uh, I’ll let you guys get to your seats,” the man said, his face burning. “Nice to meet you.”

Thea turned and tried to tug her hand from Gavin’s, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her back and brought his lips to her ear, bringing with him the scent of his soap and the teasing whisper of his Tic Tac–scented breath against her skin.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“That guy was a jerk.”

“Thea.”

The solemn tone of his voice brought her gaze to his unwittingly. She looked quickly away, though, because the same heaviness of his voice was in his eyes, and that was just too much weight for her to carry right now. “Can you not do that?”

“Do what?”

“Whatever you were about to do. I can’t do that with you right now.”

“All I did was say your name.”

“It was how you said my name.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like it meant something,” she spit out under her breath.

He leaned slowly, purposefully, a shockingly mischievous glean in his eyes. Her heart did not start to thud, and her skin absolutely did not prickle with goose bumps at the seductive caress of his voice. “And what would it mean if I told you I woke up calling your name this morning?” he murmured.

What the . . . ?

He winked, let go of her hand, and walked to their seats.

Thea stood in the aisle and squeaked out a belated protest. Then her feet came back to life. “What was that?” she hissed as she sat down.

He hooked an ankle over his knee in a casually male pose. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! Did you just wink at me?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“You don’t wink.”

“That’s not true.”

“It absolutely is true. A woman remembers every time a man winks at her, because we love winking. It’s like catnip. Wink at us, and we roll over and start purring. You haven’t winked at me in a long time.”

“Then I’m an idiot.” Gavin slowly lowered his gaze to lips. “Because I wouldn’t mind hearing you purr.”

Thea squeaked. “Excuse me?”

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Gavin said, nonchalantly pulling his eyes back to the stage. “You should w-warn a guy before w-w-walking out in that dress.”

The lights dimmed, and blessed darkness hid the way her cheeks absolutely, positively did not flush with heat.

* * *

• • •

Gavin spared a glance at Thea in the dark theater. Her spine was ramrod straight, her legs crossed tightly. If she clenched her own hands any harder, she’d snap a finger.

He was going to personally disembowel Del and Mack if this didn’t work. Not just the flirting, either. He couldn’t believe what they wanted him to do tonight. He couldn’t believe he’d agreed to give it a try.

The curtain rose over the stage as a recorded orchestra began to play over the speakers. A line of kids danced onto the stage in a mishmash of animal faces and uneven steps. He puffed out a laugh as he recognized their daughters. Even onstage, their personalities were clear. Amelia was flashy, vibrant, dancing to her own beat. Ava was serious, determined to get the prescribed steps correct. Next to him, Thea’s hands lost their rigid grip of each other, and her spine relaxed against the back of her theater chair. Whatever anger she held for him was at least temporarily pushed aside at the sight of their girls.

A sensation of falling made his vision swim as he watched her—the way her face reacted to every adorable thing Ava and Amelia did, the gentle curve of her jaw, the dimpled cheek that deepened as she laughed, the tiny crescent-shaped scar below her left ear.

Thea’s eyes darted at him in the dark now, and the wariness in her expression brought a chill to his skin.

The show lasted an hour. As soon as the curtain dropped, she whipped her gaze to his. “Stop.”

He decided to play dumb, but oh shit sweat prickled his armpits. “Stop what?”

“Whatever the hell you’re doing,” Thea whispered, her eyes darting around them to make sure no one was listening. “You stared at me the whole time. And that whole purring comment? What are you doing?”

He tried the half-smile thing Mack used. “Just flirting with my wife.”

“Flirting?!” Her hand covered his forehead. “Do you have a fever?”

Heart pounding, Gavin peeled her hand away, turned it over, and pressed his lips to her palm. “As a matter of fact,” he murmured in what he hoped was a seductive tone, “I do.”

Thea yanked her hand away and leaned back, staring at him as if he’d just sprouted horns. “You got in a car accident, didn’t you? Or fell down the stairs or got hit in the head with a line drive.”

Gavin swallowed. “Huh?”

“A head wound. It’s the only explanation. You need to see a doctor.”

“Maybe we could play doctor?” The uncertain whine of his voice belied any attempt at confident seduction.

Thea’s lush, glossy lips parted. But a split-second later, she snapped them shut and ground her molars. Like a soldier called to attention, she shot to her feet. When he failed to follow suit, she glared pointedly at his knees, as if his six-three frame was a deliberate conspiracy against her ability to make a dramatic exit.

He stood, let her brush past him, and then followed her into the slow-moving masses headed for the exit. The staging area outside the auditorium filled up quickly with families waiting for their children. Gavin politely elbowed through, keeping as close to Thea as he could. She walked stiffly, head down, her purse clutched against her side as if it held the nuclear codes.

A few genuine smiles greeted Gavin, and he returned those. But he’d long ago learned how to deftly avoid the other kind of smile—the nervous fan smile that warned someone was one excited go for it from asking for an autograph or a selfie. Fans were the lifeblood of professional sports, and he’d challenge any city in America to find a more loyal fan base than Nashville. But professional athletes were also humans who sometimes just wanted a quiet night with their families or to watch their children perform at school.

Or to woo their wives into not divorcing their sorry asses.

When he reached Thea’s side, he slid his hands into his pockets. “So I was thinking that after this, maybe we could—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his suggestion that they go out to eat as a family—which was Del’s idea—because a woman in a red suit and high heels called Thea’s name and click-clicked over with a cheery wave.

“Mrs. Martinez,” Thea said in greeting.

“Call me Lydia.” The woman smiled. “I’m so glad I caught you.”

Thea looked at Gavin and blinked. “Oh, um. Gavin, this is Mrs. Martinez, the principal of the elementary school. Lydia, this is Gavin. My husband.”

My husband. Those two words had never sounded more stilted or more promising.

The woman dutifully extended her hand, and Gavin shook it. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The principal turned back to Thea. “I just wanted to let you know that I will have your letter of recommendation done by next week. Is that soon enough?”

Letter of recommendation? Thea glanced at him—nervously, it seemed—and then back at Lydia. “That would be perfect, Lydia. Thank you for doing that.”

Lydia waved away the sentiment. “It’s the least I can do after how much time you have volunteered this year and last.”

Lydia raced off again with a see you next week tossed over her shoulder.

“Letter of recommendation for what?” Gavin asked.

“Vanderbilt,” she said with a forced smile. “I’m going back to school to finish my degree.”

“Wh-when did you decide this?”

A firestorm erupted in her eyes. “I’ve always planned to finish my degree, Gavin.”

“Thea, I’m not saying you can’t—”

Oh, shit. Wrong thing to say. Very much wrong thing to say. Thea’s neck lengthened and flushed red. “Well, thank God for that. Because I definitely wasn’t going to do it without your permission.”

Gavin raked his fingers through his hair. “Babe, that’s not what I meant. Can we just take this down a notch and—”

“Are you seriously telling me to calm down? Because that rarely has the desired effect.”