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“That’s for sure,” he agrees and takes a sip of his wine. I finish mine and ask for a water instead of having another glass of wine.

Xander moves the conversation away from butts—such a shame—and I listen intently as he answers my previous questions. He tells me about his practices and how grueling they are, especially with him pulling double duty and still working for his dad. My chest tightens with sympathy. It’s had to be hard juggling all of this. I don’t know why he’s put himself through it. I guess most of us will sacrifice ourselves to please the ones we love. It’s ingrained in our DNA to lessen the burden from others.

“As for you coming to a practice?” He pauses, leaving me at the edge of my seat. “I’ll see what I can do.” And then he winks.

I let out a groan. “You can’t leave me hanging like that. That’s like dangling a piece of chocolate in front of my face and expecting me not to bite.”

Laughter shines in his dark eyes. “I have to okay it with my coach. Sorry.” He tries to look innocent, but he’s far from it.

“Mhm,” I hum, finishing the last of my pasta. “I’m sure you’re real sorry.”

We finish our meal and skip dessert. Xander pays and I balk at the price. But it was a nice meal and I enjoyed myself so I don’t comment. As we leave, he reaches for my hand and I find my body drawn to his side like we’re magnets.

We wait for his truck and I tilt my head toward the sky. The sun has just set and there’s still a smidge of color left in the sky, making it look more like a royal purple than inky blackness.

Xander’s truck is pulled to the front and I find myself wishing it was the motorcycle even though there’s no way I could safely get on it in this dress.

“I wasn’t kidding about getting Prue some treats,” I tell him. “She looked so sad when we left.”

He chuckles. “There’s a pet store down the street. We’ll stop there.”

It doesn’t take us long to reach the store and we pick up a few items—including one really large bone that I know she’ll have a field day with.

Back in the car, Xander grins at me. “I do believe I owe you a celebratory McFlurry.”

“Mmm.” I lick my lips, and his eyes zero in on my tongue. “That sounds good.”

He clears his throat and puts the truck in gear. “Good,” he says, his voice slightly raspy. It’s like he’s seconds away from losing the control he’s trying so hard to maintain. Even though it’s dangerous for us, I secretly love that it doesn’t take much on my part to unravel him.

He pulls into the McDonald’s drive-thru a few minutes later and I bounce in my seat because I’m about to get a McFlurry, and who doesn’t love those? He orders an Oreo one for me and an M&M one for himself.

“Are McFlurrys on the NFL practice diet?” I wag my brows. “Are you breaking the rules with me?”

He chuckles. “I burn enough calories to eat a McFlurry if I want to.” He sits up and grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

“I can pay—” I reach for my wallet and he gives me a death glare.

“No,” he says sternly. “I’m buying it.”

I shrug. “I’d normally argue with you because I’m like that, but I did think I was pregnant with your giant spawn today so you kind of owe me.” I sit back in the seat while he hands over a ten-dollar bill to the cashier.

He shakes his head. “Giant spawn?”

I wave my hands at him. “Have you not looked in a mirror? You’re like six-foot-five and built like a tank. Your child would break my vagina.”

The cashier squeaks and throws the money at Xander. Apparently, she doesn’t like the word vagina.

Xander shakes his head again, his laughter filling the car. “I’m six-foot-three.”

I guffaw. “Oh, big whoop, like that makes such a difference. And I can’t believe I mention the breaking of my vagina and you focus on your height.”

“Well, my height is factual and our child is fictional.” He grabs our McFlurrys and hands me mine before driving over to an empty space and parking his truck.

“Bleh,” I gag. “Just hearing you say our child makes my ovaries shrivel up and die.” I pull the spoon out and lick the ice cream and Oreo goodness from it.

He frowns. “Don’t diss our fictional baby. He has feelings.”

“What if our fictional baby is a girl?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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