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TATUM
It had been three days since I took Wren on an impromptu mattress shopping date. In all honesty, I would have just had Sam order one, but going to the store gave me an excuse to drag Wren along with me.
And damn did I want her with me.
We had sat on the bench along the river a little while longer, not saying much of anything at all. When Wren said that she’d had a bad breakup, the truth wasn’t at all what I had expected. I thought it meant he had cheated, or there was a breach of trust. Not that some chucklefuck fiancé had dumped her the day after her mom died. Who does that?
I drove Wren back to her apartment after she declined my invitation to go back to my place. To my surprise, she allowed me to walk her up to her apartment. Instead of a chaste goodnight kiss after having shared her soul, I backed her up against her door and kissed her fucking senseless. By the time I took a step back, she was dazed, kiss-drunk, and smiling like an adorable lunatic. Wren unlocked her door and stumbled backward into her apartment with a dorky smile and drowsy eyes.
Speak of the devil.
My phone lit up as I plopped down onto the slick, red bench across from my locker. I grabbed it out of the cubicle and swiped across the screen.
“How’d you know I was just thinking about you?” I said as I toed off my cleats. It was the last full week of training camp before our first preseason game, and we were finally starting to gel as a football team machine.
Gideon walked up behind me and smacked me on the back of the head. I flipped him the bird.
Wren laughed on her end of the call. “Must have been fate telling me that now was the right time to call. I’m glad you weren’t in a meeting.”
Meeting. Right. Or running forty yards in four and a half seconds.“What’s going on, Little Bird? You okay?”
“I, uh,” she stuttered, apparently thrown off by the question. “I-I’m … good? Everything’s fine. I’m sorry to bother you, I’m sure you’re busy—”
I chuckled. “You can bother me anytime you want.”
“Mr. Bryant—”
“Don’t Mr. Bryant me, Miss Porter.”
Gideon arched an eyebrow, and I threw a sweat towel at him.
“Tatum,” Wren said, drawing it out like a question.
“Yes, dear?”
“I called to see if you’re coming back to your condo tonight. I have a crew in here painting and they’re running a little behind schedule. I would’ve called Ms. Fuller, but she’s been unreachable. I just need to know when you’re planning to be back, so we make sure everything’s livable. Well, mostly livable.”
Mostly livablewas laughable coming from Wren. She and I had different opinions on what constituted livable. When she opened her apartment door on Saturday night, I got a peek into her life. She favored the lived-in look. As an accidental minimalist, I didn’t own enough stuff to clutter up a place even half as bad as hers. She spent her days perfecting client’s homes and returned to her nest of chaos. It was fucking hilarious.
“Stop frowning,” I said.
“I’m not frowning.”
“I can hear it in your voice. You’re frowning.”
She huffed. “I have a lot of work to get done today and I really don’t have time to flirt.”
“I’ll be out late tonight,” I appeased. “But I can find somewhere else to stay if need be.”
“We should be able to clear out in a few hours, but it’s up to you. If you rent a hotel room, please send me the bill so I can have accounting reimburse you for the trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I happen to know a pretty blonde who lives a few blocks away. I might call her up and see if she’d let me share her bed.”
Wren was silent for a beat. I heard a door opening and closing in the background and ambient city noise filtered through the call. She must have stepped out onto the balcony outside my bedroom. I liked how comfortable she had become in my space. It felt like she’d belonged there longer than me.
“I have some work stuff going on tonight,” she said softly.
“Damn,” I muttered. “I’m swamped for the rest of the week, and I’ll be gone Saturday night.”
