Closing my eyes, I swallow past the burning in my throat. “I hate ballpark food,” I grumble.
“Shit,” he hisses, and suddenly the empty nacho tray is no longer in my hands. I open my eyes to see Connor looking around us frantically. “Are you going to get sick? Do they have barf bags around here somewhere?”
“No.” I start to chuckle but my stomach clenches tight, so I bend over in pain instead. “Can we go home?”
“Yes,” he says, grabbing at my purse and foam finger, which I insisted on buying earlier. “Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”
“I can walk.” Ever so slowly, I stand up and follow Co
nnor to the aisle. As we start up the stairs, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, bearing the majority of my weight. My stomach churns with each step we take toward the stadium’s exit. When warm saliva fills my mouth, I run for the nearest trashcan and bend over as my stomach heaves. Pain rips up my throat as I lose every single thing I ate today.
A warm hand lands on my back and begins rubbing big, slow circles. Connor uses his other hand to hold my ponytail out of the way. He doesn’t move or say a word, but he doesn’t have to. His actions today speak so much louder than words. Tears burn my eyes at his kind gesture, making me grateful that I have the throwing up to mask my sudden emotional response.
My stomach finally settles. Straightening my back, I offer Connor a sad smile. He searches my face for a second before draping the strap of my purse over his shoulder. He pulls the foam finger from under his arm, hands it to me, and then scoops me up. “I don’t like seeing you sick,” he mumbles, taking off toward the car.
“I can walk,” I say meekly. Dropping my head to his shoulder, I silently pray that he doesn’t put me down.
“I know you can.” Connor tightens his hold on me. I may not feel the best, but I’m still able to appreciate his big, strong arms wrapped around me. It’s nice being taken care of for a change.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe and content in the arms of a man. It’s as if I saw him in the tattoo parlor and my heart said, ‘oh, there you are.’ That’s a scary thought considering this is our first official date, so I try not to dwell on it and just enjoy the simplicity of the moment.
“Come on, pretty girl,” Connor says, gently retrieving me from the front seat of his car. My eyes fly open as he cradles me against his chest.
“Did I fall asleep?” I ask, stifling a yawn.
“Yep, and just so you know, you snore.” Connor kisses the side of my head. I squirm to get down, but he doesn’t relent. “It’s okay, I found it kind of cute.”
“I don’t snore,” I scoff, wiggling again. “Do you have a thing for holding women or what?”
“Not women,” he says, walking toward my door. “Just you. It turns out I have a thing for holding you. Don’t ask me,” he says, shrugging. “I can’t figure it out either.”
Damn he’s good.
So, so good.
The front door flies open as soon as we hit the welcome mat. Casey shakes her head, making a tsking sound. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You have?” Connor asks, sounding confused.
“Yep,” she says, popping the P. “She does this every single time. The woman doesn’t know when to stop. Actually,” she says, motioning for Connor to walk inside, “I’m thinking of finding some sort of ballpark food addiction group she can join.”
Connor sets me on my feet but keeps a hand settled on my lower back. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” Plopping down on the couch, I glare at Casey. “Now, quit making fun of the sick girl. It isn’t nice.”
Casey purses her lips, failing miserably at trying to hide her smile. “You aren’t sick, you just ate too much. Big difference.”
I roll my eyes and Connor laughs. “You did eat a ton.” Sticking my bottom lip out, I give him my best pouty look. He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Want me to stay for a while?” he whispers, his eyes flitting to Casey and then back to me.
“No.” I groan. Grabbing the afghan off the back of the couch, I drape it over myself. “She’s right, this happens all the time. I’ll be miserable for a few hours, but I’ll be okay. No sense in you hanging around. Plus, it’s getting late.”
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind,” he says, tucking the edges of the blanket around my shoulders.
The gesture is so damn sweet it makes my teeth ache. Fisting my hand in the front of his shirt, I pull him toward me. “If I didn’t have vomit breath, I’d kiss the hell out of you right now.”
Connor flashes me his pearly whites. “Oh yeah? Can I get a rain check?”
“I’ll give you something better than a rain check.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Casey huffs and walks out of the room. “Now I’m going to vomit.”