Her gaze holds a hint of uncertainty, as if afraid I’ll push, but tonight’s not the time.
“Tell me about the team. The season.”
“We always talk about my team.” I grin.
“That’s because they’re good guys and hot and talented and I like hearing about them.”
“Who do you think is hot?”
“Um. All of them?” She rolls her eyes as a fierce stab of jealousy slices my chest. She thinks my teammates are hot? How hot? “Calm, Klaus. They’re attractive, but I’m not attracted to any of them. Well, except for maybe one or two.”
She winks at me and takes a chunk of bread out of the basket.
“Who’s the second guy?” I ask.
“Don’t you mean the first?”
“No. That’s me obviously.”
“Please.” She snorts and butters her roll. I’d believe her if she wasn’t a horrible liar, and if she wasn’t blushing. “You’re not even top five.”
“The hell I’m not.”
She throws back her head and laughs, earning glances from other diners, completely uncaring. “Fine. You make the top three. That what you to want to hear?”
“As long as the other two are below me, I’m good with that.”
She shrugs and chews her roll. That blush of her burns brighter and she can’t keep a straight face.
I know exactly where I fit on that number.
“I’m worried,” I admit, and the concern I’ve been carrying but I haven’t said out loud to too many grows.
“Why? Is anyone injured?”
“No. Aging.”
“Jason?”
Jason Taylor is the best left winger in the league. But at thirty-three, nearing thirty-four, he’s definitely getting up there. His job is tough, his body aching more after every game. Our last two years have been incredible, and he’s led us to the top, but that doesn’t mean he has many left.
“Him and Maddox. They’re getting older. I could see, especially now that they’re settling with families, being ready to move on soon, leave while they’re on top instead of falling apart.”
“This season?”
“After it, depending on how they play, I wouldn’t be surprised. Plus, they’re also our captains, so if they do step back, that leaves leadership and experience we’ll lose. This year alone with trades and bringing up rookies we’re looking at least at seven or eight new starters. That’s a lot to gel with along with the threat of losing our leaders.”
Not that I’m worried about who would take their place. Jason’s younger brother Jude is a shoo-in for captain. Along with Sebastian. Sawyer’s too damn goofy and wouldn’t want the responsibility of it, but there are still others the team would look to.
“Well then you’ll have to win them another cup before they go out.”
“That is the plan.”
We continue talking, me letting her guide the conversation which turns to flowers she’s thinking of adding to her garden bed and what her fall travel schedule is like. It’s a busy time of year for both of us, and while I know the argument with her mom and Nana is front and center, I let her pretend it’s not bothering her.
She has enough to deal with this weekend. I’ve thrown enough at her in itself.
If she needs the break, I’ll be a man of my word and give her anything she needs.
By the time we return to the house, it’s dark, only the stairway lit for us.
But Jillian is relaxed, laughing quietly thanks to the few glasses of wine.
She uses the restroom first and while there’s nothing more I’d like to do than pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless like I did earlier, tonight’s not the night.
Instead, I give her space, use the restroom after her, taking my time, and when I slide into the massive bed behind her, I pull her to me, and kiss her temple.
“Sleep tight, Jilly-Bean. The weekend can only improve from here.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
She falls asleep with the sarcasm and a smile on her lips, telling me I’ve done my job.
Which means I follow her shortly after, feeling pretty damn proud of myself.
14
Jillian
I wake to a throbbing headache, heat from Klaus behind me, and last night’s disastrous family dinner lingering in my mind. Klaus and I walked the streets of Charleston, ending up at an Italian restaurant near the market where we ate outdoors, beneath fairy lights. I enjoyed a couple glasses of wine, all the carbs my stomach can handle with the spinach and mushroom gnocchi and bruschetta. After Klaus asked if I wanted to talk about what happened with my mom and I gave a firm no, he let the conversation slide while we switched to talk about his teammates, how his friend Sebastian was doing with his new fiancée, Gigi.
By the time we returned home, the moon was high and the house was quiet. We went straight to my room, took turns in the restroom, and I was already falling asleep when Klaus slipped in behind me, kissed my cheek, and pulled me into his arms.
There will be more tough conversations ahead, I’m certain of it. But last night, Klaus gave me exactly what I needed. Quiet conversation, time to contemplate everything I learned, and all the lingering disappointment still curdling in my gut.
It appears we didn’t move at all in our sleep since his arms are still enclosed around me and while my stress headache is painful, having Klaus here, always here for me, helps calm me some.
“Why are you such a loud thinker?” he mumbles. His thick, heavy voice rumbles against my neck, lips brushing my skin as he speaks.
“I can’t help it.”
“Every time you worry, your shoulders tighten. Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” I pull my hand out from beneath my pillow and trail it down his arm until my hand covers his. As soon as our fingers brush, he flips his hand over, locking our hands together.
“What do you need?”
“Coffee. An incredibly long run, and then to pretend I’m not going to my ex-fiancé’s wedding rehearsal celebration tonight where his mom, who I’ve always loved is dealing with her husband dying soon. Oh, and where my mom still refuses to see how crappy she treats me but has brought a whole new revelation into why she does.”
His chuckle warms my neck, travels straight south until I squirm against him.
He groans against me, and presses into me. “Unless you want to wake that beast, I suggest you don’t make that sound or do that wiggle again.”
Waking the beast, as he so ineloquently puts it, sounds like a great idea. It definitely feels like one. It’s not a can I’m willing to open, not with so many other flames in the fire.
“Run with me,” I say instead, already pulling away from him. He lets me go slowly, and I lose the contact and his calmness as soon as I’m sitting.
“I can go get you coffee.”
“No. I could use a few minutes alone, but you’ll run with me?”
I glance back and find Klaus rolling to his back. The sheet falls to his waist and all that’s on display is that glorious body, muscled arms he shoves straight to the side, fingers brushing my hip. Oh dear heavens. I’m choosing coffee and a run over throwing myself at half-naked Klaus?