"Well, Francie's a flirt. Best watch out," he teased. He linked his fingers with hers and followed her over to the sofa, not even thinking about sitting elsewhere. Bratling eliminated one option, and really, why would he want to sit anywhere else when sitting by Emma was an option?
Sitting, he wrapped her arm around her shoulders and glanced away from the dogs to look down at her. "My legs're jelly—my whole body's jelly, to be honest. But it's good. We gotta be ready for playoffs," he said fingers idly lifting to brush through the hair hanging just above his fingers.