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“Of course. How long do you think you’ll be?”
“Hopefully not long, but no promises. Everyone gets excited after the first game of the season.”
“As they should. Lord Dallas is here.” Maven curtsies, and I give her a light shove.
“Go get my daughter, please, so we can get the hell out of here and go home. One of the best parts about having a kid is always having an excuse to dip out of things early, and I fully plan to do that every postgame press conference this season.”
“We’ll see you soon.” She lifts her chin, and her grin is softer. “I’m proud of you, Dallas. Congratulations on your first win this season.”
“Thanks, Mae,” I say, and for some reason, the praise from her means more to me than from anyone else.
SIXTEEN
MAVEN
“Hi, I’m here,”I call out, flying into Dallas’s apartment twenty minutes late. I kick off my shoes and make a beeline for the kitchen. The smell of bacon and coffee drifts down the hall, and my stomach rumbles. “I’m so sorry. Traffic was a nightmare this morning. There was an accident and construction and everything went to shit.”
“Shit, huh?” Dallas looks at me over his shoulder from the sink and smiles. “Take a deep breath. I have awhile before I need to leave. Coach pushed practice back one hour. Your tardiness is allowed.”
He drapes a dish towel over his shoulder and moves toward the oven. He pulls out a plate and sets it on the island. A pile of eggs, two slices of toast and bacon taunt me, and I almost moan.
“You shouldn’t reward my bad behavior like this,” I say, and I slide onto a barstool. I spear the scrambled eggs with a fork. “Soon I’m going to show up late on purpose just so you’ll have a warm plate of food waiting for me.”
“I wouldn’t consider construction and unavoidable traffic bad behavior.” Dallas pours me a cup of coffee, adding a splash of milk and half a spoonful of sugar. He stirs the drink then places it next to my plate. “Just unfortunate timing.”
“Fair, but I still feel guilty.”
“Sorry, I can’t understand you through the toast you’re inhaling,” he teases, and I flip him off. “Take your time eating. June is in her playroom sorting through the eight dozen friendship bracelets she made last night. That’s going to keep her occupied for hours.”
“I want a friendship bracelet.” I gesture to the one he’s wearing on his wrist, a collection of different colored circular beads pressing against his tan skin. “Yours looks so cool.”
“It does, doesn’t it? I like having a piece of June with me when I head to the field.”
“I would too.” I tear off a piece of bacon and toss it in my mouth. “Thank you for the food, by the way. This is delicious. Way better than the PopTart I had on the drive over.”
“Come on, Mae. You know how important a balanced breakfast is,” Dallas says.
“I do, and that’s why I appreciate your culinary skills. What time will you be home today?”
“Probably around five or six. After last week’s win, I think Shawn might be less of an evil dick.” He pulls a yellow Gatorade and a gallon of water from the fridge and sets them on the counter. “I’ll try and get back as quick as I can so you’re not sitting in traffic on the way back to your place. Why do you have to live so far away?”
“Because housing is more affordable on that side of town. We’re not all multi-millionaires, remember?”
“Right.” He adds a banana and a protein shake to his pile of food and looks up at me. “Maybe you should just move in here.”
I burst out laughing. “Very funny.”
“What? I’m serious.”
My laughter dies in my chest. I stare at him, and my eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about, Dallas?”
He walks around the island and takes the seat next to me. “I didn’t think about the logistics when I asked for your help. Now I see how much time you waste going between my place and yours, and I feel bad. You sit in traffic for an hour and a half every day. That’s absurd.”
“Don’t feel bad. That comes with living in the city, and I knew it would be a commute when I said yes.” I turn and face him. My knees fit between his parted thighs, and I study his face. “Are you fucking with me about moving in?”
“I’m not. I swear. Come live with us, Maven.”
He scoots his barstool closer, and my body warms at his proximity. I can see the freckles across his nose from a summer of training camp. The tendons stretching in his neck as he talks and the strands of his hair that have gotten lighter from hours spent at practice in the sun.
