“Of course, I did.” She tilted her head at me. “Remember, I’ve been watching you long before you ever started watching me. You were my celebrity crush.”
“Huh. Right. I do remember something about a giant cardboard cutout.” That bubble expanded, making me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.
“It’s not like you were shirtless or anything,” she mumbled, but I heard her.
“Tell you what. You just let me know when and where to show up, and I’ll watch you study. Day. Night. Afternoons. The dining room table. The library. It’s on. I’ll even get a jersey made.” A corner of my lips lifted in a smirk.
“Geeze, you don’t have to get all stalkery or anything,” she teased. “I mean, I know someone with my impressive GPA is going to pull the stats that bring the fans, but I have to tell you, there’s a line between my professional life and my personal one, and I take it very seriously.”
“Oh, do you?” I laughed.
She sighed dramatically. “You have no idea what it’s like to be hounded by legions of adoring fans.”
“I only care about one fan.” I quickly downed the rest of my drink to keep from seeing her reaction to my unintentional confession.
“Don’t you want to know what my favorite part of the game was?” she questioned, rolling her pencil over her notebook.
“I’d rather hear about your weekend,” I answered honestly. There were enough people either gushing over my game performance or criticizing it.
“I kept you updated via text about my entire weekend, which was spent either at the dining room table or right here.” She patted the counter. “I like this seat better because it’s closer to the food. And I’ll have you know that my favorite part of the game was when you bent over during the second quarter to pick something up, and the camera zoomed in on your ass.” She stared at me unflinchingly.
My jaw dropped for a second and—yep. Hard. So. Fucking. Hard.
“What?” Her eyebrows drew together. “Like you don’t know that you have a nice ass? Was that some kind of surprise? Because I’m pretty sure you always make the hottest-athletes-of-the-universe list, so it’s not like you should be shocked.”
I blinked, then finally got my mouth to move. “There isn’t a hottest-athletes-of-the-universe-list that I’m aware of, but…thank you?”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What’s in the bag?”
“I picked up a little something.” A jolt of excitement barreled through me as I handed the little bag to her.
“For me?”
“Kind of. But not really. That’s a complicated question at the moment. Open it.” I walked around the island as she peeked inside the bag and pulled out a tiny, purple jersey with NOBLE across the back.
She made a little squeaking sound and held it out, blinking rapidly as she studied it. Then two tears fell down her cheeks.
“Oh shit. No,” I rushed, coming to her side. “Liberty, don’t cry. Baby, please. I’ll take it back. It’s not like he or she’s going to play football or anything, I just thought it was cute—”
She silenced my ramble with a kiss. It was short—just the soft press of her lips, but I felt it shoot through my system like a drug.
“Ignore the tears.” She swiped at her cheeks. “My hormones are all over the freaking place. This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” She folded the little jersey into a tiny square. “Wait—” Her gaze swung my direction. “Why wouldn’t our baby play football? I mean, if she’s a girl, there’s definitely going to be some professional barriers there, but if he’s a boy…” She shook her head, not understanding.
“It’s not safe,” I said simply. “Our protective equipment isn’t nearly good enough, and I’m not taking any risks with our kid.” I’d already failed to protect Nick. I wasn’t failing our baby.
“I can’t decide if that’s incredibly sweet, or if you have a fever or something.” She looked at me like I’d grown two heads.
“How’s the dissertation coming?” I asked, completely deflecting the conversation. We’d just sweep it under the rug like we did everything else.
She arched an eyebrow, calling me out on my bullshit, but she let it slide. “Oh, you know, one day closer to bringing mental health care to those in need.”
I loved that about her. She had this vision—this drive—to help people.
She flinched, then rolled her head back along her shoulders. “Just wish it didn’t require sitting still for hours.”
I stepped behind her and stroked my thumbs along her spine, rubbing small circles from the bare skin of her neck to where the fabric of her tank top started.
She groaned and leaned into my touch. “You’re so hired.”
“You can’t afford me,” I joked.
“God, don’t I know it. But still, don’t stop. Your hands feel so good,” she moaned that last word.
My thoughts immediately jumped back to the way she’d moaned as I’d licked her to orgasm, and my dick went from hard to granite. Still, I kept my touch professional, locating her knots and working them softly. “I can go get some massage oil,” I offered, my voice coming out like it had been sent through a cheese grater.
She stiffened.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly. “I just don’t like to see you in pain.”
“You…didn’t mean it like that,” she said slowly. “Right.” She slid off the stool and strode to the other side of the kitchen.
“Fuck,” I muttered as she glared at me. “I’m sorry. The lines between us are…blurred at best. I never meant to imply—”
“Of course, you didn’t.” She said it in a way that was understanding, yet still sounded alarmingly irritable.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I took my chances and approached her slowly, leaning against the side of the counter about a foot away from her.
Her gaze raked down me hungrily, but she spun away, bracing her hands on the counter. “Nope.”
“Okay…” I was at a loss. The only woman I’d ever lived with was my mother, and she was unflinchingly direct. If something was on her mind, you knew it. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders? Your feet? Leave you alone? Is this where I’m supposed to run out and get ice cream and pickles? Because I can do that, too.”
“My neck, please?” Her entire posture softened, and she flashed me an embarrassed, tight-lipped smile.
I was so out of my depth. The last eight years had been full of willing women who made themselves annoyingly pleasing, which meant I was completely out of practice in the relationship department. I had no fucking clue how to read Liberty, or how to make her happy. She was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle, and I didn’t have a box to see the full picture.
“Come here.” I tugged her wrist lightly and drew her back toward me.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s killing me right here,” her fingers pressed into the spot where her neck met her shoulders.
I definitely wasn’t about to offer massage oil again, so I worked the knot lightly.