Frankie’s teeth were near chattering when he pulled up behind her car. She couldn’t read his eyes when he looked at her before walking to the passenger side and unloading a few bags of groceries.
He took the steps, his eyes not leaving hers. “Door is open,” he said.
Frankie’s chest seized. She stood up, hoping there was more than one meaning in his words.
“You went grocery shopping,” she said.
He smiled, a hint of the one she loved. “I did. There’s this girl that I need to win back and I thought maybe if I cooked for her, it would be a start.”
Frankie’s heart beat so hard in her chest she worried it would crack her ribs. “Hmm. Is that the whole of your plan?”
Ryan inhaled sharply and his eyes blazed into hers, blocking the chill in the air and warming her from the inside out. He pushed open his door and waited for her to go through.
He set down the groceries after closing the door and they stood, staring at each other.
“It’s a multi-step plan,” he said. His voice brushed over her skin, like she wasn’t wearing a parka and winter boots.
“With dinner being step one?”
He nodded slowly and the distance between them decreased. “I got all of her favorites. When I was getting them, I realized, she’s the first girl—woman, whose favorites I know.”
Frankie pressed her fingers into her sides to keep from reaching out. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She inhaled the sweet scent of his cologne and listened to the sound of his breathing. Neither of them blinked. “What else do you know?”
He took a step forward. “I know I fucked up because I was scared. I know that nothing in my life has ever mattered to me the way you do. I know that I walked away because I was terrified you wouldn’t choose me. I know that I love you and even if you hate me, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”
Tears whispered down her cheeks and her heart lodged in her throat. She’d told herself that the words didn’t matter when he’d shown her what he felt. She was wrong. They mattered. They had the power to stitch up all of the pieces that had ripped apart without him. The air between them seemed to shake, much like Frankie’s body. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she stepped into him, still not touching him. “You turned down a job in L.A.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need a job.”
He smelled like cold air and Ryan. “So you’re going to hang around this small town and be happy for the rest of your life?” Her heart was going to beat out of her chest. She kept going. “What about baseball? It’s been your whole world for most of your life.”
Like a wire snapping, Ryan’s hands reached out and yanked her against him. “Baseball isn’t going anywhere. And neither am I. Not unless you do. My life is wherever you are Frankie. Baseball is a sport—it’s a really great fucking sport.” He rested his forehead against hers. “But you. You’re my world. You’re my everything. I love you.”
Frankie went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you sure?”
His arms tightened and Frankie realized she’d rather go without air than without him. He nodded, his nose brushing against hers. “I’m so sure. Ask me how much.”
“How much what?”
“How much I love you.”
She tasted her tears but didn’t want to let him go to brush them away. “How much?”
“More than baseball. More than anything.”
His lips touched hers and it was like falling hard and landing softly. Her stomach dipped as he pulled her up against him. The kiss was close to frantic, the kind of kiss that promised everything and hid nothing. He pulled away, just enough that when he spoke, his lips still brushed hers.
“Tell me you love me,” he whispered.
The words rushed out of her, more than ready to escape. “I love you.”
“Thank God.”
“Ask me how much.”
He laughed and she saw the shine in his eyes. “How much?”
Frankie pursed her lips. “I didn’t think that through. I don’t know that I love anything the way you love baseball.”
“Then I win.”
Frankie let out a sound that was part sob, part laugh. “Pretty sure we’re tied.”