After they went through security, Reagan guided Jill down the concourse to their section. Their seats were in the fifteenth row behind the visitors’ bench, seats that had cost Reagan a rather obscene amount of money only a couple hours ago. Price of last-minute decisions.

They settled in as the teams warmed up. Jill sat stiffly in the seat and clasped her hands in her lap as she glanced around the arena. Reagan didn’t feel all that relaxed either. First date jitters, and even though they had some banter at the condo, she was now fearful she’d say something even more stupid and mess things up.

She tapped Jill on the knee to get her attention. “So when was the last time you were at a game?”

“You know that picture you saw when you were rudely snooping at my place?”

Reagan held up a finger. “Snooping sounds like such a harsh word. Exploring sounds much better and adventurous.”

Jill shook her head. “If you say so. Anyway. That was the last time.”

Reagan frowned. “How come? You looked like you had a lot of fun.”

Jill nodded with a thin smile. “I did. That was until about five minutes after that picture was taken and I spilled my lemonade all over myself and the person next to me. I was never allowed to go again.”

“That’s not fair. You were just a kid. Accidents happen all the time.”

“Yes, well, accidents are not appreciated when they happen in your stepfather’s company suite and you spill on one of his biggest clients.” Jill shrugged, but Reagan still saw the hint of pain she tried to hide.

“That sucks. But what about now? Don’t you have your own clients to woo in a suite?”

“Sure, but that’s not what I want to spend my time doing. My boss does that kind of thing. Besides, there’s way too much work to do.”

“So, you don’t make any time for much outside of work, then?”

“Not really, no,” Jill replied absently as she watched a couple players shooting threes.

With that, Reagan deflated. “Good to know,” she muttered.

After a beat, Jill turned to her with wide eyes. “Shit, that came out wrong.” She reached for Reagan’s hand and squeezed. “I mean, yes, I put in a lot of hours at the office, and that doesn’t leave a lot of free time. But…” She took a breath as if steeling herself for her next words, “but I’ve never had something, or someone, that was worth freeing up my time.” She stroked her thumb across Reagan’s knuckles while avoiding eye contact, as if she had been ashamed to admit that.

Reagan turned her hand over and interlocked their fingers. “Are you saying you might’ve found that?” she asked, tentative and hopeful.

“I’d like to think so.”