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“I can’t believe you have Gervais’s chef making meals like this for you.” Adelaide took more asparagus, finding her appetite once she’d glimpsed the kind of food prepared by the culinary talent being underutilized by Gervais and his future wife. “That is another reason I could never live in this house. I’d weigh two tons if I could have dishes arrive at my doorstep with a phone call. What a far cry from takeout pizza.”
“I think you’re safe with asparagus.” He’d always thought she’d eaten too little, even before he started training with athletes who calculated protein versus carb intake with scientific precision to maximize their workout goals.
His plan for dinner had been to keep things friendly. No more toying with the sexual tension in the air, in spite of how much that might tempt him. He needed Adelaide committed to his plan, not devising ways to escape him, so he would try to keep a lid on the attraction simmering between them.
For now.
If she moved into his house, he would spend more time here, too. He’d keep an eye on her over the next few weeks, solidify their friendship and learn to read her again. He’d taken her friendship for granted and he regretted that, but it wasn’t too late to fix it. He’d find time to help her with her future business plans, all while convincing her to stick out the rest of the season.
“You don’t understand.” She pointed her fork at him. She’d put on one of his old Hurricanes T-shirts about six sizes too large for her, her dark hair twisted into a knot and held in place with a pencil she’d snagged off his desk. She still wore her black pencil skirt, but he could only see a thin strip of it beneath the shirt hem. “I peeked in the dessert containers while you were finding a shirt for me and I already gained twelve pounds just looking at the sweets. There is a crème brûlée in there that is...” She trailed off. “Indescribable.”
“This you know just from looking?” He remembered how much she loved sweets. When they were growing up, he’d given her the annual candy bar he’d won each June for a year’s worth of good grades. Now that he could have bought her her own Belgian chocolate house, though, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d given her candy.
“I may have sampled some.” She grinned unrepentantly. Then, as if she recalled whom she was talking to, her smile faded. “Dempsey, I can’t stay here.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“I’ve already told you that I don’t want to pretend we are engaged in front of your family, and this puts me in close proximity to them every day,” she reminded him. Then she pointed wordlessly to a screen showing a catch worthy of a highlight reel from one of the players they’d be facing in next Sunday’s game. It was a play that he’d already heard about in the Hurricanes’ locker room.
He admired how seamlessly Adelaide fit into his world. He’d had a tough time bridging the gap between life as a Reynaud and his underprivileged past, acting out as a teen and choosing to work his way up in the ranks as a coach rather than devote all his attention to the family business. But Adelaide never acted out.
Or at least, not until today.
“I saw that catch,” he said, acknowledging her. “We’ll definitely keep an eye on that receiver.” Then, needing to focus on Adelaide, he shoved aside his empty plate. “But regarding staying in the house, you don’t need to worry about my family. I will spend more time here, too, so I’ll be the one to deal with any questions that come up.”
“Can you afford to do that? I know you often sleep at the training facility.”
The schedule during the season was insane. He was in meetings all day, every day. He talked to his defensive coordinator, his offensive coordinator, and addressed player concerns. And through it all, he watched film endlessly, studying other teams’ plays and tailoring his game plan to best counter each week’s opponent. Yet he couldn’t regret that time, since it was finally going to pay off this year in the recognition he craved, not just for himself but for the people he’d brought up with him. People who had believed in him.
“You are important to me. I will make time.”
He’d surprised her, he could tell. For the first time, he was seeing how much he’d let her down in recent years, focused solely on his own goals. His own friend was surprised to hear how valuable she was to him.
“That’s kind of you, but I know you’re busy.” She frowned. “It’s no trouble to simply enjoy the comfort of my own home.”
