She receives my words like a beautiful pass, catching them with a smile and warm eyes. “I’m excited to meet Abby. She sounds amazing. And I’m glad you want me to meet her,” she says in a kind, inviting tone that underlines, black Sharpie style, why I like her so much.
She’s open and honest and caring and fun.
“She is amazing, and so are you,” I say, and it feels like a weight off my shoulders. I’m glad I put that out there.
Maybe we’re a lot inevitable, Katie and me.
My hands twitch. The desire to touch her, to pull her into my arms, rockets higher in me. I’m eager for all the next things with her.
Is there any way to have them?
I keep my hands to myself as I measure the sugar and butter.
Sure, we have terrible timing, but the timing doesn’t always have to be bad, does it? Her contract with the team can’t last forever.
Maybe dating is like a recipe. Maybe it’s monkey bread. It takes time for all the ingredients to come together just right.
As I pour the sugar into a bowl, I stop and hit end on the song. Turn to meet her gaze. “Katie, I have this idea. Call me crazy.”
“Crazy,” she says playfully.
I step closer to her. “What if . . .”
She laughs softly, clearly liking things so far. “What if . . .?”
I go for it, run like hell with a brand-new plan. “What if we agree to date at the end of the season when your classes with the team end? I know it’s a couple of months away, but I’m not seeing anyone else and I’m not going to see anyone else. You’re the woman I want, and these last few weeks have only solidified that more. I don’t want to let you get away. I want to lock you up as my date,” I say, putting that out there and hoping she likes the plan too. I sure do. It feels like the only answer to the what can we do question.
Her smile is radiant. Her hand flies to her chest, and her eyes well up with something like . . . joy.
“I want that, Harlan. I do. Truly, I do.” But her smile disappears in a heartbeat, replaced by resignation. “The trouble is the team has already said it plans to renew the contract.”
22
Harlan
I’m sadder than the time we lost the championship game five years ago.
I thought I’d erased that awful memory, but it comes roaring back right now. I felt like shit the day we lost by a field goal to Baltimore, erasing our Super Bowl chances.
Now, I feel worse.
I should be able to fix this. My job is to find openings. It’s to solve problems on the field. It’s to dodge two-hundred-fifty-pound obstacles in the form of linebackers and quicksilver tight ends champing at the bit to slam me to the ground.
I can move like a cheetah on the gridiron, spinning and whirling away from threats. But I can’t get out of the way of a problem like this.
“That is . . . awful but awesome,” I say like I’m chewing on sand.
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “You took the words out of my mouth.”
I can’t even make a joke. “Well, I get it. You’re a great teacher. Hell, you’ve helped me. And I mean that from the bottom of my heart and my hamstring.”
The smile that curves her lips is both tender and wistful. “I’m very glad it’s working. That makes me . . . professionally happy.”
“But personally?”
She takes a beat and moves the mixing bowl with the sugar in it a few inches away, then the brown sugar bowl. They don’t need moving.
Letting go of the bowl, she turns to me, strength in her blue eyes. “But personally, I want everything you said. And I feel like I should be terrified because of what happened last summer . . . but I’m not.” She blows out a breath of obvious relief. “Whew. I kind of can’t believe I just said that, because for the last few weeks I was so dang worried. Worried about taking my time, going slowly, doing everything differently. Making sure I wasn’t caught up. But everything with you feels right, and I want what’s next. I want to pursue a relationship with you. But that’s not what worries me.”
My heart beats faster. Never has a relationship sounded so good as it does on her lips. I want a relationship with her more than I want to win my next game.
And I really like winning games.
Trouble is, her thoughts are unfinished.
“But what does worry you?”
“I don’t want to hurt people,” she explains. “I don’t want to do in business what my mother did in love. I don’t want to go behind anyone’s back and hurt them through my actions.”
Why is integrity so damn sexy? Oh, because it fucking is. “I understand,” I say, my heart sinking once more, up and down like a yo-yo.
Katie nibbles on the corner of her lips, then takes a deep breath. Like she’s fortifying herself. “But what if I work to find a replacement? I would search through our roster of teachers and talk to Zachary—he’s our business dev guy—and also Olive. And tell them at the end of the season, I need to step back. I’ll say the Renegades can’t have me next year.”
And it’s happy yo-yo land.
Excitement buzzes through my veins. “So the Renegades can’t have you, but I can?” I ask, all flirty again.
She grins, then giggles too. “I like this plan. I’ll make it work. I’ll figure it out.”
“I fucking love it,” I say. “Let’s do it. Whenever it works for you, I’m by your side. Know that, okay?”
She nods, her eyes a little shiny. “That’s kind of amazing.”
“I mean it, Katie. You call the shots here. I’ll just be waiting to kiss you on the field whenever you’re ready. I know our timing has been all wrong, but let’s make this our time, once and for all. And thank you. I know this falls on you, when to do this, how to do this, so thank you.”
“You can thank me by showering me with orgasms in January.”
I growl, holding up a finger to admonish her. “Super Bowl is in February, Katie.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I can wait till then.”
I close the distance, sweep her into my arms, and hug her tight. It’s risky, but so’s chasing a ball the safeties don’t want you to catch. So’s running in a touchdown. Holding Katie close is terribly risky but absolutely necessary.
When we pull apart, my hands still on her waist, I don’t want to let go. “You feel too good in my arms,” I tell her.
A breath shudders past her lips. “I sure like being here,” she whispers, all soft and irresistibly sweet, her arms still looped around my neck.
So damn sweet that I’m not sure I want to resist anymore.
Can I? Yes. But I don’t want to. “What if I steal a kiss right now?”
She runs her fingers along the ends of my hair. “Don’t have to steal it,” she murmurs. “You can have it.”
“It’ll keep me going until the end of the season,” I whisper as I inch closer then drop my lips to hers.
Her breath hitches as I kiss her the way I want to right now—tender, gentle, but with a promise.
Like this kiss is sealing our promise for next year.
It goes to my head in an instant. My mind slides into a Katie-induced euphoria as I explore these lips I’ve missed desperately. As I kiss the corner of her mouth. As I flick my tongue against her bottom lip. She opens for me, a sensual sigh mingling with my own murmurs.