Page 67 of The Catch

"Who's the one sexting now?" Logan's voice has the same serious tone as usual, but I know him well enough to know he's teasing.

Saint: Can't wait to see you tonight.

I don't text anything else in response. When I choose my words this time, I want to do it while looking her in the eyes.

"I am not sexting." I put my phone away in my bag and prep my things for the shower. "Why would you say that?"

"I'm really enjoying getting back at you for the grief you caused me last year when I was falling for Evie."

"Did I tease you about sexting with the love of your life? I would never."

We mirror each other as we get ready for the shower, with towels at hand and our change of clothes hanging in the cubbie. The ruckus around us has started to calm down, as we all get antsy to go answer press questions and finally take the bus to the airport.

"You told me I looked like I was sexting when I wasn't." He frowns. "Then you told me you'd set me up with someone else. Shameful."

"I'm sure you took it with the same equanimity I am. I'm not sexting with Ames, and I don't need you to set me up with anyone else, either."

He raises an eyebrow. "Huh. You looked like that when talking to Ames? What could this possibly mean?"

I narrow my eyes. A gratified, tiny smile takes over his mouth as he grabs his phone. His eyes scroll down the screen, and his face changes in slow motion.

I chuckle. "Is Evie texting you, too?"

"Mhh. Let's make sure we're all on the plane on time," is all he says.

Several hours later, I open the door to my condo with curiosity bubbling in my stomach. Ames' guests should have left, as far as I know, but I'm not sure what to expect.

The living room lamps are on. Music plays from the speakers. A few piano notes ring in the air. They're random, and not part of a melody. They clash with the Latin Pop song filling up the space.

I close the door behind me. A quiet click is all it takes. Ames hears it and jumps off the piano bench.

"Gael!" She turns and wobbles. Her hands and ample ass press on the keys, and several dissonant notes clang in the air. "Oops. I'm okay."

I drop my bag and run to her. "Are you sure?"

I kick the bench aside and bring her into my arms, just in case she loses stability again.

Her hands land on my chest. She lifts bright eyes at me. A soft smile tilts her lips.

Ames is stunning, soft against me, willingly held in my arms.

My whole system stutters. My heart beats faster than it does when I score a touchdown. I pull her tight, pretending she's still unsteady, but it's only an excuse. This is as close as I might ever get, and I'm too weak to resist. I may be offering myself as her support, but I'm the one in need of a backbone.

It's just a taste. With my name on her lips, and the warmth of her body against mine, it's a morsel I can't resist.

Her fingers curl and she fists a handful of my shirt. The drumming in my chest intensifies.

"I'm really good." She blinks slowly. "Ready to celebrate with you, if you are. Your win and the call about the show…"

"Tell me everything," I whisper.

She makes me a drink she says has no name yet, but was a success during the watch party. It has rum, lime, mint, and pomegranate, and it's fresh on my tongue after we toast to the win and this offer that fell in her lap.

"Never in a million years did I think I might end up on TV." She sips from her drink. "Not that it's a sure thing at all, but the ladies told me I should act like the show's already mine."

We sit on the sofa. Soft music plays around us. The city outside twinkles against a dark backdrop, and the light of the lamps are a mellow honey in the room and on her skin.

"So you want the opportunity?" I ask. "Can you see yourself hosting a TV cooking show?"