I sit back, enjoying the camaraderie as I get to know Rachel even better. She’s not a replacement for my New York friends. She’s her own woman, and I’m glad I have her in my life now.
I’m glad I have Maddox too.
Like in my TV show, friends make everything better. Friends, too, can help you through heartache.
When Rachel is done telling the story, her brown eyes meet mine in a question. “So, your date…how did it go? You’ve been holding out all night.”
“Yes, inquiring minds want to know,” Maddox seconds.
My poor heart hurts too much. But keeping the story to myself won’t help me heal. “I reconnected with this guy, and we made a deal to spend the week together,” I say as Rachel leans forward, while Maddox squints off in the distance. Weird. He’s usually such a good listener, but everyone has their off days. “We had an amazing time over the last week, and I thought we were both feeling the spark of something more, but then—”
“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”
I sit up straighter, my eyes widening at the smoky, sexy voice coming from behind me.
This can’t be happening. A curl of pleasure winds down my spine. And I risk a glance over my shoulder.
My breath catches at the sight of the man I’m crazy for. His hands are wrapped around the back of the empty seat.
Like we mapped out on text with opening lines and all.
My heart climbs up my throat. This has to be good. Please let this be good.
“Now it is,” I say, giving him the next line for our strangers-at-a-bar scenario.
But this role play is just between us, so I turn to my friends. “I’ll be fine,” I tell them. “You can go.”
Rachel pushes back in her stool, grinning like you’d better tell me everything. Maddox squeezes my shoulder, then mouths tomorrow as he stands to go.
In seconds they’re gone, and Gabe sits next to me. “I saw you here and I was compelled to come over and talk to you, even though I don’t know you,” he says, leaning into the role play.
Normally, I’ve led the scenes, improvising with him following. This time, I let him tell the story. I’m still hurting over last night, but I’m also delighted that he’s here.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, carefully.
He might just be here for more sex. He might just be here to strike an arrangement.
He blows out a deep breath. “There’s this guy I know,” he begins. “He was such a dick last night, and he needs to apologize to his woman.”
My heart jumps, but does that mean he still wants me to be his?
“Does he, now?” I ask, hunting for the answer in his eyes.
His dark brown eyes are vulnerable. “He was moody and cold, and he handled everything badly. And that’s not cool,” he says, but then he winces, drags a hand over his chin. “Shit, Ellie. I’m sorry. I can’t do it like this.”
“Like what?” I ask, alarmed that he’s backing off. Is he saying he thought he could make a go of things but now he can’t?
He lifts a hand, cups my cheek. “I’m crazy for you. Just absolutely crazy for you, and I want you to be mine. No games, no challenges, no fake dates. All real, if you’ll have me,” he says, taking the narrative for himself and leaving the stranger play far behind.
My lips tremble, and I’m overjoyed. By the simplicity, by the honesty, by the complete break of character. “I’m pretty wild for you too. For real,” I say, then lift my chin in a request for a kiss.
He obliges, brushing his lips across mine with a sigh. “Fuck, baby. I fell so hard for you. I was terrified you didn’t want the same things I did.”
Melting in his arms, I swat his broad chest. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I do,” I say.
“I had no idea. You’re all I’ve got this and shit, and I thought there was no room for me in your life.”
“I thought there was no room for me in your life! Your last football season and all,” I point out, and we’re both laughing and smiling and touching.
“I want to spend my last season with you. And then whatever comes after that,” he says.
I’m floating, and I can’t be in public with him much longer. “Me too,” I say, then I kiss him—a tender, passionate kiss that feels like a promise.
When we break it, I say, “Hey, stranger, I better pay this bill and take you home. I have something in mind for tonight.”
“Tell me,” he says urgently.
“I’ll show you.”
A minute later, we’re gone.
29
NEW NECKLACE
Gabe
She shows me all right.
There’s no scene, though. Just my woman riding me. Her palms press hard against my chest, her hips swivel, and her breath comes hot and fast. Her expression twists in exquisite pleasure, and she’s close.
She’s so damn close.
I slide a hand between her thighs. Stroke her till she’s shaking. “So good,” she murmurs.
“Because it’s you and me, baby,” I tell her as my other hand snakes up to her hair, curls around her head.
We can play all the bedroom games we want. We can take on all the roles that suit us. We can go dirty and wild every night, but there’s only one reason it feels this good.
Because we belong together.
As her orgasm crashes over her, mine follows, taking me under and into this bliss.
After, I pull her close, kiss her tenderly. Then I brush her hair off her face. “I’m falling in love with you, sweetheart.”
She smiles. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Later, after we clean up, we return to bed together. In seconds, the dog hops up, sliding between us. “Gigi,” I chide.
Ellie laughs. “Gabe, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask, on a yawn, content with the world.
“She doesn’t sleep on dog beds. She sleeps with me.”
I curl an arm around woman and dog. “You mean with us,” I correct her.
Ellie snuggles up against us and we fall asleep like that.
In the morning, I’m out of bed at the crack of dawn. I take Gigi for her walk, then return to Ellie’s home, where she’s padding softly out of her bedroom, stretching.
“I need to get ready for the first day at work,” she says.
“And I need to take off.” I look at the clock on the wall. “Training camp check-in is at two.”
Her eyes pop. “And it’s in San Diego. You better go,” she says, shooing me toward the door.
But not so fast. There’s one thing I have to give her before I leave. I reach into my pocket for a little white cloth bag. Myrtle gave it to me to use, reminding me a man shouldn’t apologize empty-handed.
“I have a little something for you,” I say, then hand Ellie the bag.
She peers inside and brightens. “I love jewelry.”
“I know,” I say, then I fasten the chain around her neck. My Super Bowl ring dangles on the end of it. “Looks like that’s exactly where it was meant to be.”