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“Maybe in another lifetime.”
“Why not this one?”
Wren sighed sharply. “I thought we covered this. We both have too much going on and I’ve got a shit-ton of baggage.”
I hunched forward on the bench and pinched the bridge of my nose. The last time I had felt this serious about a girl had been before college. Those teenage hormones make everything seem like it was life or death. For my entire professional career, I had never wanted to see a girl during the season. My packed schedule had never been an issue until now.
“You sure you can’t get out of that prior commitment on Sunday?” I asked, hopeful for a change of heart. “I’d really like to take you somewhere.”
“I can’t,” she said quietly. “I might be able to do something in the evening, though. Maybe dinnertime? After five or six.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Well, then I look forward to it,” she said, her voice a little more upbeat. “I’ll let you get back to your night.”
“Alright, beautiful,” I said, fighting the goofy grin forcing its way on to my face. “I’ll text you the details.”
She ended the call, and I dropped my phone back into my cubicle.
“I’ll text you the details,” Gideon mimicked in a feminine falsetto. He flashed a shit-eating grin. “That your girl?”
I peeled my practice uniform off, grabbed a towel, and headed for the showers without acknowledging him. Showers during training camp were always hilarious. Rookies cowered in the corner, trying to avert their eyes from mass male nudity. It made me wonder why the hell in a brand new four-billion-dollar facility they couldn’t have sprung for a few dividers. Maybe a shower curtain or two. But after a decade in the league, I’d seen it all. Junk was junk and everybody had it. Who gave a shit?
“Why does Tatum look constipated?” Theo asked Gid as the two of them wandered into the shower.
I glared at him. “What?”
“Don’t shit yourself in the shower,” he razzed.
I stepped under the spray and felt the sweat and grime begin to melt from my skin. “Fuck off.”
“He looks that way because he just got off the phone with his mystery girl. He’s probably afraid of popping a boner in here.”
Gideon wasn’t wrong. There were many unspoken rules of communal showers. The first of which being, keep your dick down. Just the thought of Wren had me already flying at half-mast. Fuck.
“I took her out on Saturday,” I said. “We kept it casual. She’s working at the house today.”
“Don’t think you’re bailing on our night of mandatory fun,” Gideon said before glancing across the shower room to where Seth was stationed. “Especially because Blondie is required to be there.”
I groaned. I’d rather have my testicles run through a low-speed paper shredder than hang out with Seth Motherfucking McBride for a few hours. On the field was bad enough. The kid’s head was so far up his own ass that he should’ve been walking like a human pretzel. I’d take the fine from the league if it meant I got to sock him in the face.
“I’m not bailing,” I grumbled. Even though all I wanted to do was bail. Wren wouldn’t be available anyway. She had a schedule almost as insane as mine. If I bailed, I’d just be sitting in an empty penthouse, dodging calls from my father, and thinking about Wren. “I was gonna invite her to the game on Sunday—leave her tickets for seats in the WAG section at will call.”
“But she realized she doesn’t want to see Mason Miller flatten your ass like a pancake for three hours?” Theo joked.
“Said she has a work thing and can’t make it.”
Gideon’s eyebrows lifted as he cut his showerhead off and wrapped a towel around his waist. “You offered this woman a premium seat at a Reds game, and she turned you down?”
I shrugged and grabbed my towel. I didn’t particularly feel like reliving the rejection. It fucking stung.
“Marry her,” Gideon said, pointing a hundred-and-fifty-million-dollar finger in my face. “Heidi would back me up. Any woman who doesn’t give a shit about what you do is the real deal.”
“She doesn’t know,” I countered as we sauntered back into the locker room.
“What do you mean she doesn’t know?”
“She doesn’t know. I haven’t told her.”
