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Then I turn. Toward Layla.

Her hands are over her mouth.

Her eyes are enormous.

Perfect.

The stadium announcer comes back over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before today's opening match, the owner of your Carolina Rovers has one more piece of business to handle.”

Layla's eyes narrow.

There she is. My reporter. Suspicious already.

I grin.

Carolina nudges her forward.

Layla shakes her head.

I crook my finger.

Come here.

She mouths something at me.

I'm reasonably certain it's⁠—

What the fuck are you doing?

I point at the ground in front of me.

The crowd laughs.

Layla's face turns pink. But she comes. Of course she does.

My Firecracker walks onto the field with twenty thousand people watching her and somehow manages to look like she's coming over specifically to kick my ass.

God, I love this woman.

She stops in front of me.

“Mitchell.”

“Layla.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing yet.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Why does that terrify me?”

“Experience?”

She almost smiles.