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“Basic intimacy, huh?” She smiles at me, a teasing look on her face. “So nothing to complain about in your sex life then?”
I down the rest of the water. Because I can’t lie to her, but I’m not excited about telling her the truth either.
“What sex life?” I ask, turning and putting my glass in the dishwasher.
“Oh, come on. You’re a pro football player who just won a championship ring with a sex room in the bar he owns. That might as well screamI have a different girl every week.”
“We talked about this. I’m a full-time dad with a full-time job and a business owner. I don’t have time for casual sex, and I don’t have the energy for a long-term relationship.”
“You’re telling me you can’t squeeze in a quickie with one of the cheerleaders after a game?”
“It’s frowned upon to fuck your coworkers.”
“Okay. A quickie with a woman you meet at the bar?”
“Also frowned upon to fuck your customers.”
“When has that ever stopped a bartender?” she counters.
I give her another look, and she returns it.
“I’m serious. I try not to think about how long it’s been. But with Gin and work and the bar. I’m too tired most of the time and even when I’m not, I never get real downtime.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Aurora
“You have time on a night like tonight.” I point out.
“At 2:30 a.m. with a runaway bride staying in my guest room and my daughter due home in a few hours? I’m sure that’s an attractive deal to most women.” He shakes his head.
“Ms. Stuart would definitely be willing to find time if you’d just give her any little sign at all.”
“Not that again.” He walks past me toward the living room.
“Oh come on. She’s being so obvious. She about died when she saw me standing in your kitchen cooking. She probably thinks I’m fucking you.”
“Impossible since you’ve never even thought of me that way.”
“I did tonight.”
His eyes snap to mine, confusion in them.
“What?” His voice has taken on a raspy quality.
“Standing in that room. I was imagining you in that chair with a woman down on her knees for you. Her hands on your belt and then on your—” His hand slips over my mouth before I can say anymore, and his lashes lower, a strained look on his face.
“I need you to not talk like that right now,” he says after a long moment of awkward silence.
“Why?” I ask softly.
His eyes drift over my face and land on my lips. His thumb ghosts over my lower one and then he closes his eyes.
“Because I’m already fucked up when I’m around you as it is.”
“What do you mean?” I feel the kick of something in my chest, something unfamiliar—especially when it’s Gabe causing it.
He blinks like he’s snapping out of whatever trance he’s been in.
