Bo leaned back against the opposite wall. He’d showered and changed into black jeans, a blue T-shirt, and work boots. His duffel bag was nowhere to be found and she knew he’d been waiting for her.

“I’m here to take you home.”

She rolled her eyes. “I already told you—”

“Wait. I’m here to take you home after I take you out. To dinner. Tonight.”

“I am not going out with you.” Especially when he had that tone.

“You want to save my life, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You’ve got lion males trying to kill me.”

“I said maybe. They may be trying to kill you.”

“Right. But if we’re going out, if we’re dating, I can’t be taking advantage of you. Isn’t that right, Gwen?”

“Absolutely!”

Blayne shoved Gwen back into the locker room with one good push, and Bo nodded his head in approval. “Nice.”

“This,” Blayne said after closing the locker room door, “is bullshit.”

“Why? What’s a little date and a drive home between two people who’ve already slept together?”

Even though Blayne knew what Bo meant, she still snarled when she heard that collective, “Ooooooooooooooh!” Followed by several “Told ya so” and “Ride it, Blaynie!” tossed in to really make her crazy.

To show her annoyance, Blayne brought her foot back against the door and heard several barks of pain.

“She mule-kicked the door!” someone yelled.

“I don’t get what’s going on,” she told him. “I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Bo stepped closer until he towered over her. “I’m backing you in a corner, blocking you in, trapping you. But it’s your fault I’m doing that.”

“My fault?”

“Because you’ve put me in danger, I have no choice. Poor little me against all those big scary Irish male lions.” He placed his hands against the door on either side of her head. “And, yeah, it’s all your fault.”

“How do you live with yourself?”

“I can tell you that over dinner or we can stand here arguing the same damn point for the next ten thousand hours with your entire team listening at the door. Choose which is worse.”

“Fine. Dinner and you take me home. And then you are never to speak to me again.”

“Let’s move that particular threat until after the championships, Blayne!” Gwen yelled through the door.

“Shut up!”

Bo hauled himself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and started his truck. He put on the heat, trying not to look too embarrassed when it sputtered to life since he neverused the heat in his truck, even in the middle of the coldest winter. But Blayne was too busy seething at him to notice or care.

Yet Bo had learned a lot about Blayne in the last couple of weeks, and if there was one thing he now knew, it was easy to distract her from nearly anything. Normally that aspect of her personality drove him nuts, but now he needed it.

Reaching into the back of his truck, he pulled out the small bag.

“I bought you something,” he said. He took the box out of the bag and placed it in her lap. She didn’t even look at it, so Bo opened the box for her—and waited.

It took about thirty seconds for her curiosity to get the better of her, and she glanced down at the box. Two seconds later, angry brown eyes locked onto him.

“A watch?” she demanded. “You bought me a watch?”

“Don’t get mad,” he said. “This is just something to help you manage your time before you drive me to drink.”

“Because I keep looking at your watch when I need the time, or because I was a few minutes late a couple of times?”

“Fifteen minutes late. Fifteen is not a few.” He raised his finger. “Don’t throw it.” He grabbed the box back and pulled the watch out. “Let’s see how it looks on you.”

“I can’t take this watch.”

“Why not?” He pulled off the stupid, useless watch on her wrist, flinging it into the very back of his truck while ignoring her outraged gasp, and placed the new one he’d picked up that evening from a bear-run jeweler a few blocks from the sports center.

“Bo, it’s too expensive.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You want me to believe that you got this from some street vendor?” Instead of answering, Bo stared at her until Blayne blinked and looked back down at the watch. “You got this from a street vendor?” He kept staring since it worked the first time. “For how much?”

“Fifty,” he said vaguely.

“Fifty? For this?” She gave a little snort. “I would have haggled them down to thirty-five bucks at least. It’s not even a name knockoff. Meirston? What’s that a play on?”

“I have no idea.” Actually it was the brand name of a very old and very powerful bear dynasty that had been creating and selling jewelry since the time of Moses. At least that’s what it said on its marketing materials. “It’s nice though, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“It can take a lot of abuse.”

Her lips pursed. “Which means what, exactly?”

“Do you really want me to spell out your clumsiness?”

“No. That won’t be necessary.”