Mark looked back over his shoulder. “You’re challenging me?”
“I’m not. But I think Dalton Gainer might be.”
Mark turned. “What?”
Gus folded his arms. “He’s been talking down at Jake’s. You know Dalton. Any woman who turns his head must be up for a piece of the Gainer. He’s all but taking bets on how easy it will be to divide and conquer. Not whether he’ll do it, mind you, but how easy it will be.”
Mark’s blood heated, recalling Dalton’s words in the school parking lot, territorial and competitive. Challenge accepted. “She’s not like that.”
Gus laughed. “Then what’s she like?” He raised his brow expectantly.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, find out.”
Mark stood there, torn between wanting to strangle Gus or remind Dalton of who broke all his records. Not just broke. Obliterated. “I can’t treat her like Dalton would. She’s not a prize. She’s the one—”
“The one?” Gus asked, grinning.
Mark wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. “She’s the one you want next to you on the field. The one you want to get the ball to. You just need to be enough to . . . to make her want to keep playing. Someone like Gainer—he’s not even playing in her league. He’s just looking for a pickup game.” Great. More sports analogies.
“And what are you looking for?” Gus asked.
Mark paused. He hadn’t seen that one coming. He wasn’t looking for anything.
Gus watched him, his grin fading. “Whoa, you are so gone.”
Mark grabbed an empty water bottle from the counter and flung it at Gus.
Gus ducked, his grin back. “Mark wants himself a tight end. For keeps.”
“Shut up, minivan.”
A couple of hours later, Mark left the Grill-n-Go drive-thru with two not-even-meals and a brick in his stomach.
What did he want?
Gus’s question echoed through his thoughts as he considered what Riley would do if Gainer made good on his talk. The jerk had already asked her to Seattle. For a weekend.
What could Mark do to compete with that? He parked in the empty school lot, close to the school doors this time. He sat back in his seat.
What do you want, Rivers?
He couldn’t get past the fear of what wanting brought with it. Wanting someone meant asking them to want you back, and he couldn’t let himself hope that much.
He wanted to help Riley get the nativity figures painted. That’s all. He had as much claim on her as he did the sky.
Mark wants Riley. For keeps.
A knock on the window jolted him, and if he hadn’t still been wearing his seat belt, he was sure his head would’ve hit the roof of the truck.
Riley stood, laughing and hugging her arms around her in the cold afternoon dusk next to his truck door. “I’m sorry,” she said through the window.
He undid his seat belt, grabbed the bags of food and the cup holder with their drinks, and opened the door.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Sure you didn’t.” He got out, and she backed up.
“No, really, I was watching for you because the school doors are locked, and I didn’t want you to be waiting in the cold.”
“Thanks. Sorry I’m late. Happy to see you left your bat at home. Hold these, please.” He held the food out for her to take.
She smiled and obeyed. “No problem. Smells good.”
“Not-even-fries,” he said as he opened the tailgate. “They fry them in not-even-fat.”
“Perfect.”
Getting a good grip around the bundled figures and sliding his arm through the handle on the can of black paint, he shut the tailgate. He glanced at Riley. “After you.”
She led him to the industrial arts building and unlocked the doors. He followed her down the hall past the shop.
“I haven’t been in here for a while,” he said, stepping into the art room. “I took shop through high school, but I only took art my freshman year. Mom required it.”
Riley led him to the chairs she’d arranged to act as sawhorses with drop cloths draped over them. “She wanted you to have an appreciation for what she did?” she asked, moving a couple of chairs closer to each other with her foot.
“Something like that, yeah.” He set down the bundle and the paint on the closest table. He took the drinks from her and followed her into the office.
“Did it work?”
“Sure. It also proved that I did not inherit my mom’s artistic talents.”
“I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.”
“I was quoting my teacher.”
She looked back at him and smiled. “Have a seat.”
He took a chair across from the one behind her desk. She cleared a space and put down two lengths of that brown paper towel all schools had.
He took the drinks out of their caddy. Two Cokes, two milkshakes.
“I smell bacon,” she said, taking her seat.
He ducked his head, hoping he’d chosen right.
Her smile widened as she pulled out the burgers and fries. “Seems to be a recurring thing with us. You can never go wrong with bacon.”
He hated how much he liked how she’d said “us.” One stupid word and he felt like he could be anybody he wanted. “Especially on not-even-burgers.”
She nodded and pushed two fries into her mouth before he had the ketchup out. Mark took a long swig of his Coke. The joke had run its course, but it was good to be sharing a joke with someone you didn’t want to put in a headlock.
“I didn’t have lunch. Thanks.” Her smile made his middle drop.
He concentrated on unwrapping his food. How in the world was he supposed to ask her out? He hadn’t even been considering it until Gus mentioned it, and now it was all he could think about. “I wasn’t sure what kind of shake you’d want, so I got my two favorites, and you can choose.”
“Either way, you’re happy. Very wise.”
“Very risky. I didn’t think about what kind you’d like until the girl
