Jack’s words had come back to her in that precise moment. He’s just another jackass with a badge. She’d realized then that Jack wasn’t the only one who believed such a thing about Daniel. Daniel wholeheartedly believed it, too. Kicking him out would have just proven it to him. And she saw more.

In a strange way, she found his jealousy kind of… comforting? Perhaps that wasn’t the correct word. One thing she knew for certain. Fisher wouldn’t have looked up from his phone long enough to notice flowers from another man, let alone comment on them.

She’d always wondered what Fisher was thinking. She didn’t have to wonder with Daniel. He appeared unable to hide his emotions from her. Maybe this was simply her way of justifying her decision to leave with him, because her excitement over spending time with him hadn’t been dampened by his display of possessiveness. It may have even heightened it. The realization startled her a little. Up until his ill-timed comment, she’d been undeniably turned on by his behavior.

He turned his car into the lot, flashing his badge to the security attendant. They were waved through to a reserved parking area loaded with squad cars and police cruisers. Daniel pulled into a spot and cut the engine, then slid out of the car to open her door. She took his offered hand and stepped out, her eyes sweeping over his somber expression. As before when he’d woken from the nightmare, she felt shaken by the need to soothe him.

He averted his gaze. “We’re uh, late. We should probably—”

Story placed her palm against his cheek, feeling his rough stubble on her palm. He looked confused by the gesture, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from sliding closed. She marveled over the effect a simple touch from her had on him.

“Kiss me, Daniel.”

An agonized sound left his throat, but his lips were on hers immediately, parting them for his tongue. The crowd’s roar emanated from the stadium just as his hands sank into her hair, tilting her head to give him a better angle. He backed her against the car and kissed her until they ran out of air. Breathing heavily, he pulled away.

“That’s the kind of greeting I want next time you pick me up for a date,” she murmured against his mouth. “It doesn’t matter who sent me flowers. I’m here with you now.”

With a shaky exhale, he pressed his forehead against hers. “I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter, Story. The way I acted was inexcusable, but I can’t pretend.”

She swallowed. “Good. I don’t want you to pretend with me.”

“I’m not sure I’m capable of it.” With a sigh, he pulled away to lock the car. Taking her hand, he led her out of the parking lot and through a side entrance into the stadium, showing his tickets to an elderly man with a bar-code scanner.

Seeing the field for the first time, Story actually gasped. It looked completely different than on television. Huge and colorful, like it could suck you in. Their seats were so close to the action, she could practically see the sweat glistening on the players’ foreheads. Energy radiated from the already-seated crowd as they cheered for the next player up to bat.

She whipped around to face Daniel and found him already watching her. “You didn’t tell me they were playing the Padres! Now I have to cheer against you.”

Finally, her obvious enjoyment seemed to relax him and he smiled. “I get it, they’re your hometown team, but I’d appreciate if you kept the shit-talking to a minimum. Someone I know might see me.”

“Oh, you’d be ashamed of me. I see.” She considered the field, then turned back to him with a grin. “This calls for a wager.”

He smirked. “Name your terms, blondie.”

“So cocky! Okay, if the Padres win…”

“Won’t happen.”

The man next to him grunted in agreement.

“If the Padres win, you have to wear a Yankees hat for an entire day. Outside, in the world. You can’t hide in your apartment. I want witnesses.”

His mouth dropped open, but he quickly shut it. “Fine. Like I said, it won’t happen anyway.” She smiled as if to say you never know. “How did you know about my hatred for the pinstripes?”

“Isn’t it customary for a Mets fan?”

“Yes,” the guy next to them answered without removing his attention from the game. Story giggled while Daniel shook his head.

“So what about me? What do you want if the Padres win?”

His eyes narrowed on their eavesdropper in disgust, as if knowing he couldn’t say what he really wanted out loud. “How about a picture? You in a Mets jersey.”

“Done.” Smiling, she turned back to the game.

Leaning close, Daniel whispered against her ear. “You know what kind of picture I’m talking about. If you don’t send me the one I want the first time, I’ll be forced to take it myself.”

Even though a night breeze flowed through the stadium, cooling the July air, Story grew hot just hearing his softly spoken words. Unconsciously, she crossed her legs, unaware of the telling motion until Daniel licked his lips in response.

“Are you trying to distract me from my first baseball game?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

She arched an eyebrow.

With a smile, Daniel laced his fingers with hers and sat back to watch the game, mercifully shutting off his twenty-four-hour sex death-ray stare. Still, even the feel of his fingers against hers felt sensual. It didn’t help matters that in battered jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked good enough to eat. Sensing her discomfort, he winked at her from under the brim of his Mets hat, signaling a passing vendor for two beers.

Story briskly changed the subject. “So, what books were you prepared to discuss with me?”

He choked on a sip of beer. “Jesus, that’s the first time you’ve ever actually looked or sounded like a teacher.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Daniel stressed, “not a single teacher looked like you when I went to school. Might have shown up more often if they had.”

“Oh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” He watched her closely as she took a sip of beer. “So it must be hard. Wrangling a bunch of kindergartners all day.”

“It can be,” she agreed, smiling at the thought of her rowdy pack of kids. “Probably not as difficult as hostage negotiation.”

“No one ever takes a hostage during class? Give me a snack pack or Malibu Barbie gets it?”

Story shook her head. “You’re showing your age. They all have iPods now. I haven’t seen a Barbie since I was in kindergarten.”

“Seriously? Who is confusing the boys about female anatomy, then?”

“You’ve always been a peeker, I see.”

“Guilty as charged.” Smiling, he took a long gulp of his beer. “Other than confiscating iPods, what’s the hardest part of being a teacher?”

“Well, they basically have no filter. Whatever pops into their head comes right out of their mouths.”

“Sounds like Brent,” he commented drily. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve heard?”

Tilting her head, she thought about it. “Will Gergitch. Cutest little thing with glasses. Never said a word during class unless I dragged it out of him. Until one afternoon, the principal stops by class to say hello to the students. Will politely shakes her hand and blurts, ‘My mom says you’re not qualified to be the principal of a shoe box filled with shit.’”