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I resume my circles on her hip. When I look down into her warm, sleepy eyes, I smile. The shy one she returns my way is the opposite of the coy, sexy smiles women aim at me. It’s open, trusting, and cute.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest well?”
She nods, scrubbing her face across my tee, stopping to stare at something.
“What is it?”
“You’re wearing yesterday’s shirt.”
“It happens when you sleep in your truck. I probably smell like yesterday too.”
She takes a deep whiff and pretends to gag. In return, she gets a swat on the ass.
“I can’t believe you slept in your truck.”
“I’m not complaining about being stretched out here. I can assure you of that.”
“How are you not at work?”
“We don’t have the same schedules right now that we do during the on-season. I’m usually in Texas in the spring.” I stop that thought in its tracks. “We’re expected to train. They don’t care where that is. They will in a couple of months, though.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a lot easier to maintain a routine than it is to create one, so keeping the same hours and the same commute helps me remember that my job isn’t eighteen Sundays or Mondays a year. Or Thursdays as things are going these days.”
She stretches an arm across my abs tentatively before flattening her hand there.
“You don’t seem to be someone who forgets his job. In fact, you strike me as someone whoisthe job.”
“How do you figure?” I turn my head to hold her eyes.
“Well, you’re committed, driven, single-minded, and laser-focused.”
“Is that it?”
She shakes her head again from where it’s propped on my pec, her gaze never leaving mine. “If I were to think like my therapist—I’d wonder if it’s your only love. Are you chasing it? Or is something else chasing you, and it’s your refuge? I’d wonder if you love it or if you fear not having it.”
“I see.”
I do. And she does too. Straight through me, slicing me open with just a few sentences.
“But mostly I see someone who has a gift, who’s lucky enough to have a place to use it, and one that pays him to do so. It’s kind of a trifecta, you know. Doing what you love. Loving what you do and getting paid for it. I’d be jealous if I didn’t have something similar.”
“So you’re living your passion? Physical therapy with the league?”
“You mean direct health care for people who want to be well. My patients are willing to do whatever it takes to be healthy again. Elite in my field, if I do say so myself. It’s a pretty good gig—nonfraternization clause aside.”
“And who do you want to fraternize with, Pix? Who’s my competition?”
“Sadly, Layton, what I want and what I can have are two different things. Who I want and who I can have are worlds apart. So it doesn’t really matter who might be on my list… when I can’t have a list at all.” She closes her eyes and rests her head back on my chest.
“But if you could…” My voice lacks the bravado I often show.
“If I could, I’d take a risk with a man who is deeper than he lets on, who is kinder than he wants people to know, and who could charm me out of my pants with a wink and a grin.”
I lift my head. “Is that all it takes? A wink and a grin?”
She smacks my stomach where her hand rests.
