I hold my hand up to stop him from saying another damn word. And then I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The room goes silent enough to hear a pin drop. I do my best to hold back the tears. I’m not one to cry easily, but it’s been a rough two days. And I’m ovulating, meaning my eggs are jumping to their deaths as we speak.
Otto is the first to realize I’m barely holding it together. “Uh oh.”
“I,” I begin but have to pause to hold it together. “I am not your wife,” I tell Bryant. “I’m not his wife,” I repeat to the others in the room and then focus on Leslie. “I don’t give two fucks about ivory chenille or being the lady of his house, not after he was with another woman. I am done being nice about it. You’ve all forgotten how hard it was for me after he cheated, so the next person to call me his wife or treat me like his wife will receive a swift kick in the balls or ovaries.” And then I march out of my office dashing tears away and head home until Monday when I’ll also look for another real estate agent.
— 7 —
Then
I wait for Bryant at Hale’s Row after the game two nights later but he doesn’t show. I expected to see or at least hear from him after he begged for not one, but fourteen dates. It’s been two days, and I’m acting like he didn’t call after we slept together. We didn’t have sex, so I don’t know what I’m freaking out about. He gave me a great orgasm. What’s the big deal? Lots of guys can do that. Okay, maybe not a lot. Bryant Hudson is sort of a unicorn, but it’s not a biggie.
“What are you thinking so hard about, Coach?” the quarterback asks.
I spin around in my bedroom. He leans his tall body against the frame of the door with his arms crossed over his wide chest.
“What are you doing here?”
He smirks and peruses me from head to toe before he crosses the room in four long strides. His toes touch mine as he looks down at me. “Ben offered Zina a ride to New Orleans, and I figured I’d take the chance to catch up on rest while he drives. You might as well ride with us. There’s no sense in driving separately.”
“Are you keeping your hands to yourself?” I ask.
His smirk grows wider. “Do youwantme to keep my hands to myself?”
I open my mouth and promptly shut it. The man knows how to do a hell of a lot more with his large hands than throw a football. But I discover I’m a wee bit upset with him for not showing at Hale’s Row last night. It’s stupid and irrational, but it’s how I feel.”You look tired. Late night?”
A dimple appears on the right side. “Is this your way of asking if I was with someone else last night?”
“For there to be a someone else, there must be a someone. I’m not your someone, QB.”
The frown on his face does nothing to mar his beauty. “I was with Coach until two. I went home and went to bed. I was aching from the two sacks I took.”
“Where was your left tackle?”
I can feel his frustration as he launches into the reason behind his late night visit with his coach. “It’s why I didn’t come see you after the game. Lawrence and I had words after the game about me taking unnecessary hits. We were shouting in the locker room, and Coach wasn’t happy about it.” Bryant leans into my space as he lifts his hand and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I didn’t want you to have to be around me when I was in such a surly mood. But I wished I was at the cabin with you.” Butterflies take flight in my tummy, and I feel like an overexcited, boy-crazy prepubescent. “God, you’re beautiful, Z.”
How does he do it–make me feel and ache for him? And how long can I fight him when he’s so charming and perfect?
“You have to stop talking to me like that.” It’s the only way I’ll survive a road trip and fourteen dates with him.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on the matter then.” He tips my chin up with his hand. “Zina called shotgun, so you’re in the back with me, Coach. Want to snuggle like we did the other night?”
Zina walks in and interrupts us. “Whoa. You two are absolutely gorgeous together. But why are you standing so close to one another?”
“I was just telling your sister not to drool on me in the backseat.”
Zina smirks like she’s done something she shouldn’t have. “Oh yeah! Shotgun!”
The little heifer set me up. I slice my finger across my throat to let her know what I think about it. “I know where you sleep, and Ben won’t be too far from your baby pictures.”
My little sister gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“I could return the favor with Bryant.”
“I was cute as shit when I was a kid,” I argue. “I didn’t have weird tendencies like you did.”
“Y’all look just alike,” Bryant says.
