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He’s silent for a few long seconds, making me wonder if I laid it on a little too thick. Does he see right through me?
“You’re right, princess. That makes sense. I’ll get you a room away from all of ours, so you have a little more peace and quiet, but still close enough to join us for team events and the game. You can sit in our suite during the game.”
“That’s not necessary. I love watching from the stands, you know that.”
He sighs. “But anything can happen to you in the stands, princess. I don’t like knowing you’re out there, unprotected.”
“I’ve been attending games for years that way,” I remind him. He knows I hate the pomp and circumstance of those fancy suites. The free food is nice, but so is having a big hot dog with the rest of the common folk.
“I understand, but I would feel much better if you were in the suite. Plus, Candi will be there.”
Great, just who I want to spend my night with.
“I’d prefer to sit in the stands, Dad,” I reiterate with a little extra firmness.
“What?… Oh, I’ll be right there. I’m talking to your sister. She’s going to the game Monday night and is insisting she sit in the stands.” He’s quiet for a second, the deep rumble of my brother’s voice vibrating through the line. “You do?” Again, mybrother talks. Dad sighs. “Your brother thinks you’ll be fine in the stands. I still don’t like it. Promise me you’ll go up to our suite if you have any issues.”
I sag with relief against my mattress. “I promise. No one ever bothers me.”
“Yes, but this is Monday night in Chicago. I don’t trust any of them with my baby girl.”
I can’t stop the eye roll. “I’ll be fine, Dad, but I promise to go up to the suite with Candi if needed.”
“Good. Now that that’s settled, I’ll get you a room. Candi will email you the details. Oh, and you’ll fly on the team plane with us. End of story.”
I exhale loudly, realizing it’s best not to argue too much. I already won on the separate room and sitting in the stands. I don’t want to push my luck on travel plans.
“Fine. Thank you.”
“I’m needed up front, Josephine. I’ll talk to you later.”
I throw my phone to the side and close my eyes as Hermione jumps onto my bed and curls up at my side. I did it. I’m going to the game this weekend. I have my own room, far away from the team—and most importantly, my dad and brother. I get to sit in the stands and wear the number eighty hanging in the closet. And hopefully, later that night, well after the Monday night lights have faded, I’ll have him in his bed.
Once upon a time, there was a woman who had an exciting secret to share. She was going to travel with the handsome football player this weekend for his game. She booked a room in the same hotel and thinks of nothing else but sneaking into his room long after everyone has gone to bed. She pictureshim there, naked, and hovering over her moments before he enters her for the first time. It’s all she can think about now. Time seems to slow, the seconds taking longer to tick by in anticipation of what’s to come. The only thing that’s certain is the woman knows one night will never be enough.
To be continued…
With a smile on my face, I quickly slip into Brock’s room and place the note on his pillow. Before I leave the way I came, I can’t help but bend down and sniff his pillow. It smells just like him, a mixture of his bodywash and aftershave. It sends warmth racing through my veins, pooling between my legs.
“God, I’m hopeless,” I mutter to myself. Hermione jumps up onto his bed, spins around a few times before dropping into the space between the two pillows. She plops her head down and closes her eyes, snuggling into the pillow I know Brock lays his head on at night. “Yeah, I’m not jealous or anything.”
With a sigh, I turn and leave the room and head downstairs. The guys should be home any moment now and it’s Brock’s turn to plan dinner. The least I can do is go down and see what options he’s got in the fridge.
I’m barely there a few minutes when I hear the alarm being disabled and the door open. “Honey, we’re home!” my brother bellows with a chuckle, making me shake my head. “Why are you filling the dishwasher? It’s Brock’s turn to cook, and we all know dishes afterward is a part of that.”
I glance over his shoulder and find the man in reference smiling widely. “Hey, if Joey wants to help do dishes, who are we to stop her?” he teases, knowing full well I often leave all the dirties for Caleb to clean.
“You never help fill the dishwasher when it’s my turn,” my brother grumbles, looking like a toddler about to throw a temper tantrum.
A bubble of laughter erupts from my lips. “Well, the difference is you insist on using every single dish and utensil you own while cooking.”
He throws up his hands in defeat. “You don’t understand perfection.”
“No, what I don’t understand is using four spoons to stir a pot of noodles.”
Caleb laughs and throws his arms around me. “I’m just messing with you. I hear you’re comin’ to the game this weekend.”
I notice Brock perk up, his eyes meeting mine.
