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She jogs away, and after a minute, her voice drifts toward me. She’s singing a soft song, and I imagine her holding June in her arms. Rocking her back and forth just like I do as she quiets the nightmares.
It hits me, then, as I think about someone else taking Maven’s spot one day down the road.
She’s irreplaceable.
Not just as a nanny or someone behind the camera at football games, but as the woman I want by my side until the end of time.
I’m totally and completely head over heels for her, and I need to figure out a way to fucking have her once and for all.
THIRTY-TWO
DALLAS
“What the fuck is going on?”
I look up from the menu I’m holding and stare at Maverick. “Hm?”
“It’s a Saturday night. You’re supposed to be at dinner with your team at the hotel,Captain. But here we are, at a restaurant I’ve never heard of, watching you pick which steak you’re going to eat.” He snatches the menu out of my hand and slams it on the table. “You’re going to get the filet, like you always do, and if you don’t tell us what’s going on in the next six seconds, I’m going to lose it.”
“You’re not dramatic at all,” I draw out. I glance over at Reid, hoping he’ll think Maverick is out of line, but he only blinks back at me. “Okay. I need advice, but what I’m going to say cannot leave this table. If word gets out, I swear to god I’ll end both of you.”
Maverick reaches for me and hooks his pinky around mine. He gestures for Reid to do the same, and soon the three of us are holding hands over a candlelit table and a five hundred dollar bottle of wine.
“Swear on my life,” he says, and Reid nods in agreement.
“What’s going on, Dal?”
I’m breaking a dozen team rules by being here.
I should be with the rest of the Titans watchingMiracle on Icein the hotel’s banquet hall before tomorrow’s home game, but I snuck out after our film review session. I claimed I had a headache and needed some fresh air.
It’s only half a lie—I did need some fresh air. I also need some room to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with my coworker-turned nanny-turned roommate-turned best friend-turned current inspiration for all my filthy fantasies.
I was never supposed to fall for her.
She’s the one woman I can’t have.
The rational part of my brain—the part that understands the severity of consequences and doing things I’m not supposed to—is telling me to let it go. To give it—her—up.
But my stupid fucking heart can’t get onboard.
I laid in bed last night, tossing and turning while considering the possibility it’s the attention that has me in a goddamn tizzy. But then I remembered how warm I feel when she laughs. How much better life is when she’s around, and I know it’s not just any woman.
It’s her.
“Maven,” I say, and I run my fingers down the stem of my wine glass.
“What about her?” Reid asks carefully, and it makes me wonder if he and Maverick have talked about my feelings toward her when I’m not around.
“I—we—she—” I snap my mouth closed. “Y’all are going to make fun of me.”
“We are not,” Maverick says. “Did you guys make fun of me when I waited naked on the couch of that girl I met at the bar, only for her parents to walk in and surprise her for her birthday?”
“No, but?—”
“And did we make fun of Reid when his screen time was eight hours a day one week, all of which was spent hate-watching Thunderhawks posts with that catchy little song they play when they win?”
“No, and I?—”
