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An hour later, sweat drips down my chest, and I realize not working out religiously the past couple of months has caught up to me. Though I’m in shape, I haven’t played sports in over two years, and running back and forth is tiring me out quickly.
“Looking good, hubby,” Lennon catcalls as I pass.
I waggle my brows at her, and she giggles.
“So Lennon Corrigan, huh? She’s always been a little dick tease. How’d you score that?” Matt, a guy from my team, asks. I don’t like his salty tone.
“That’s my pregnant wife you’re talking about so unless you want my fist in your nose, you’ll shut your damn mouth,” I tell him harshly. His condescending question has me seeing red.
“Whatever,” he mutters, then walks away like he should.
The game finally comes to an end, and my team won. We’ll have another one in an hour, though I’m not sure I’ll be up for it.
I run toward Lennon and scoop her up in my arms, nuzzling my face in her neck. “Oh my God, you’re drenched!” She giggles, throwing her head back.
She slides her body down, but I notice she keeps her hands on my chest a moment longer than needed. I see the side-glances from people who are most likely judging my tattoos. I don’t have a ton, but I have a sleeve of ink on one arm and some wrapped around my waist and back.
Since we already have an audience, I grab Lennon and slant my mouth over hers. I should stop kissing her so damn much, but now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t seem to help myself. It’s for the role, I lie to myself, but I don’t even care anymore.
My heart be damned.
I slide my tongue between her lips and hear her breath hitch as I bring her closer. Lennon moves her tongue against mine, and she’s goddamn lucky we aren’t alone right now because it’s the only thing that has me pulling back.
She presses her fingers to her lips, staring at me in question or perhaps longing, but I can’t allow myself to think that.
Her mother appears, smiling wide and proud. “You did so good out there, Hunter!” she squeals.
“Well, he did play football in high school and college,” Lennon adds like a proud wife, making me smile.
I’m introduced to so many people, I lose track of who is who, but Lennon whispers it to me anytime they return for another conversation. This is nothing like I’ve ever seen or experienced, but I’m seriously loving every minute of it. It’s the alternate life if Lennon had picked me, if Brandon hadn’t died, and if she and I would’ve had our very own happily ever after. I force the thoughts out as soon as they come, wishing things were different but knowing they can’t be.
Lots of food, the Fourth of July parade, and a ton of children’s activities fill the rest of the afternoon. Lennon stays glued to my side, and when the sun begins to set, the live music becomes the main attraction as we wait for the fireworks.
“Dance with me,” I whisper to Lennon so only she hears me. We’ve been sitting at a table snacking on food with her parents for the past hour, and I’m ready to get her alone.
She glances at me with a grin. “Okay. Show me whatcha got.”
Standing, I hold my hand out for her, and she takes it with a hesitant expression. I lead her to the dance floor and wrap my arms around her. The band sings a cover of Rascal Flatts’ “Bless the Broken Road,” and our bodies are so close, I can smell her shampoo. The lyrics nearly make me choke up as I hold Lennon tight.
“Kinda impressed you’re such a good dancer.” She looks up at me with a devilish grin. “Then again, you’ve been surprising me for weeks.”
I smirk, knowing she’s right. After the way I’ve treated her, she would have no reason to trust me. “It’s our first dance as husband and wife,” I tease.
Lennon chuckles, stepping closer. “Good thing it’s a good song.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her.
“You know…” She pauses, biting her lower lip. “You’re better at this relationship stuff than you lead on.”
I raise my brows, shocked at her honesty. “Oh really?”
“Yeah, you’re a natural.”
Kill me. Kill me now.
She tilts her head and furrows her brows. “How come you’ve never had a serious relationship?” she asks hesitantly. “I mean, it seems to come pretty naturally to you. Most guys who run away from commitment tend to have a fear of failing.”
I let her question sink in, unsure of how to respond. There’s no way to answer it without confessing my feelings, so I say what I’ve always told everyone else who’s asked.
“Didn’t have a lot of time in college for something serious. Between football and work, it wouldn’t have been fair to balance a relationship between that.” I shrug as if that’s a plausible reason.
