Page 61 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

We all know that Dean doesn’t like to be told no. He wants what he wants, and when he doesn’t get his way, he’s a child about it. But Tyler, he’s not a child. He’s a man, and he carries himself that way. A way that makes my toes curl and my breath catch.

He’s funny. He’s kind. He’s thoughtful. And most importantly, for those he loves, he loves with his whole heart. I’ve seen it firsthand for years with his devotion to Lance and his kids. I’ve seen it with how he interacts with Jonah, Vivi, and a few of his other teammates. And if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve seen it in the way he acts with me.

Tyler isn’t the type of person to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Did he open his door to me for Lance? Yes, but all those moments afterward were for me. I mean, I have two words to sum it all up . . . baby goat.

I will never forget that experience.

Eventually, the crowd thins, the double doors open, and he strolls out. My heart rate picks up at the sight of him. He’s wearing the same suit pants, shirt, and tie that he left the house in, only he’s ditched the coat, his sleeves are rolled up, and the tie has been loosened around his neck. His dark hair is so wet it looks coal black, and his dark eyes immediately find and pin me. Anxiety builds under my skin as I have no idea what he’s thinking. If I could shrink into the concrete beneath me, I would. A few people call out to him, but in general, he just gives them a head nod while keeping his focus and heated gaze on me.

“Hi,” I whisper when he stops in front of me. Clean with a mix of sporty and beachy infiltrates my senses, and I want to wrap myself up in it.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he shifts his bag from one side to the other and then gently wraps his hand around my neck, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he examines every feature and every expression on my face. Feeling satisfied with whatever he finds, he drapes his arm all the way around my shoulders, tucking me in next to him. He starts walking, and I shuffle my feet since all I can do is keep up.

“Congratulations on the win,” I tell him, wrapping my arm around his waist. Heat from his skin radiates through his shirt, matching how warm it feels outside.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as we make our way past the remaining family members, out of the stadium, and through the parking lot to his truck. People are watching. I can feel their eyes on our backs. Besides the pinky wrap, this is the first time he’s touched me in front of others, even his friends. Between his name on my back and his arm wrapped around me, assumptions are definitely being made, yet I couldn't care less.

Bring it on. Because if they do and he hears them, maybe he’ll act upon them as well.

Reaching the passenger side of his truck, he tosses his bag into the bed and then turns to face me. He’s still frowning. I want to stick my fingers into the corners of his mouth and push them up. I hate seeing him frown. He’s always so happy.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask. I’m confused as to why he looks so unhappy, and my nerves are about to make my hands go numb.

“No, I’m not mad at you. Why would you think that?” He tucks another piece of hair behind my ear, runs his hand down the length of my ponytail, and my eyes momentarily drift shut.

“You don’t look very happy, considering your team won today.”

“Oh, I’m definitely happy about that. There was no way we were going to let that asswipe win today.”

“Do I even want to know what he said to you?”

Feeling a little brazen, I reach out and place my hand on his hip. Getting to touch him is a new thing, a thing I want more of.

His gaze shifts back and forth between mine as he considers his words. Moments pass, and I think it must have been bad for him to be surly. I drop my head in embarrassment, but Tyler isn’t having any of it. His hand cups my cheek, and he lifts my head so his rich dark eyes can find mine.

“You’re Lance’s sister. Do you think I’d let people talk shit about you? I don’t care who they are.”

“Only because I’m Lance’s sister?” I whisper, needing to push him. Push him to make a move, push him to confess what he’s really thinking, push him to do something because honestly I’m dying. I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for him, and I don’t want to wait anymore.

His truck is parked close enough to the stadium that the sun is blocked since it’s moved to the western side. Even though we’re not in its direct path, the humidity is still awful, and it’s wrapped around us. I can feel sweat forming all over me, and Tyler’s face has grown damp as well.

A sweaty Tyler. My imagination briefly drifts to what it would feel like to be skin on skin with him.

“You ready to go there?” he asks, his voice deep.

“Yes,” I tell him boldly.

“You had a thing for me?” His gaze is dark and hypnotizing, and I know without even asking that Dean must have said something to him. He was obsessed with Lance and Tyler’s friendship, and he didn’t like it at all that we knew each other. Toss in that dance at Lance’s wedding, and well, I guess he was right to feel threatened.

I shrug my shoulders, and one brow of his slowly arches up. He wants more, he wants my words, and I find I want to give them to him.

I want to give him everything.

“You were my brother’s best friend. Of course I had a thing for you.”

He takes another step toward me, and my back flattens against the side of his truck. He tilts my head even more so he can see me, his large size blocking out anything and everything around us.

“And everyone knew?”