Page 75 of Draft Pick
“I’d say there’s a high chance of that. You have a great day, Ms. Wilde.”
Closing the door behind him, I rush toward the kitchen, dying to see what today’s surprise brings. One thing’s for sure—I know where it came from. Or should I say,whoit came from.
Crew.
Boone Urban Bar + Restaurant. My new favorite spot in Atlanta.
Peering into the bag, I’m immediately hit with the fresh and buttery smell of peach cobbler. The same peach cobbler I inhaled in the restaurant kitchen that night.
“Come to mama.”
The aluminum tin is torn apart in seconds, a plastic spoon and ooey gooey goodness meets my tongue like a prayer. “Oh my god,” I moan, savoring every bite. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how delicious the desserts were and how perfect our kiss was.
Heavens, it was really perfect.
I’m halfway finished when I notice today’s note stapled to the other side of the paper bag. I rip the white card off, smiling when my sight instantly gravitates toward Crew’s scribbled name at the bottom.
Dear Food Queen,
Peaches for the lady with my favorite perky peach.
Crew.
Cheesy. Corny. Freaking adorable.
I’m not sure what’s happening and why Crew suddenly feels the need to send these special deliveries to me, but I refuse to question it. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel special.
Giddy to know someone is thinking of me. Especially Crew.
He knows me well enough to send my favorite things with cheesy notes that are bound to make my day. And they have. I’ve come home from work the past three days to a different delivery every night.
Something changed since the game on Monday night, and in a good way. It’s odd because that’s the same moment in time I let myself believe I could try this with Crew. Whatever we wantthisto be.
Tuesday, a vintage Beatles album was delivered. Limited edition, in perfect condition. I almost fell to the floor in tears when it arrived, immediately removing it from the cardboard cover and jamming out to the record. It also just so happened to be my favorite of their records—Abbey Road.
I lay face up on my couch for the rest of the night, letting the soulfulness of the nostalgic album sing to me as if it were the first time.
I’ve mentioned to Crew a few times in passing how much I loved oldies music, but I never really thought anything of it. Turns out, he was listening acutely all along.
On Wednesday, I was elbow-deep in some intense bathroom cleaning. Not my best look to be approached with gifts, but once again, Crew made it worth it.
My squeal could have been heard from the other side of Georgia. Delivered in a thick, clear, zip-up protector was a custom-made Strikers jersey on a wooden hanger. The kicker? Not only was it the limited vintage edition that Navy designed, but it had Briggs on the back with his number, and “Doc” embroidered on the left sleeve.
Every inch of it was personalized just for me.
That definitely means something real.
If I wasn’t smitten with the cutie centerfielder before, I sure am now.
Is this the build-up to us finally being together? Is Crew making small steps to show me he cares before we finally get the chance to admit our true feelings?
Hopefully, all things followed by fucking it out because my goodness, I’d really like to do that. I’m tired of imagining Crew naked, and I know my vibrator is, too.
I want the real thing.
Despite my tragic horniness, my heart feels full. Overflowing from the top with hope. Although none of these gifts equate to answers or what his intentions are, it’s still promising.
I can picture what a life with Crew and Addie would look like.
