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It’s fruity and sweet and coats my mouth and lips deliciously.
I turn, and Parker is heading over with two plates. Putting down the glasses, I pull out the chair for him, holding it there while he places both our meals down.
A smilepicksup on one side of his lips as he sits.
“Thank you,” he says, scooting his chair forward a little.
His hair has some kind of styling product worked through it to give it a little shine, and he’s shaved again. The stubble he wore last night looked incredible on him, and I’d love to see if his facial hair could grow like that for real, but even clean shaven, he still stirs something inside me.
“Are you going to sit?” he asks, head tilted up toward me. Shit.
My cheeks flame, and I shake myself out of the haze being around him seems to cause, taking the seat opposite.
Just by looking at it, I know the steak is going to taste amazing. This time, he’s put some kind of mash and asparagus on the side.
Leaning forward, I breathe in the rich scent.
“Mmm, this looks amazing,” I tell him, and his smile reaches the corners of his eyes, making his dimples deepen. It should be illegal to smile at someone like that. If this was a porn flick or I was some horny teenager, I’d jump across the table and into his arms. But I’m an adult, and no matter how sexy he looks grinning at me behind the candlelight, I will force myself to remain seated. He said this is a thank you, and even though there are candles and flowers, it could still be just that. A thank you to his agent for taking him out and showing him he can have a little fun.
I focus on eating. The puree is pumpkin, and it’s amazing. If the NFL doesn’t work out for Parker, he should seriously consider becoming a chef or opening a steak house because,shit,this man can cook. Maybe that’s where I should be looking for an endorsement. I get why he wouldn’t want to partner with a few places. Being a part of the queer community, he wouldn’t want to endorse a company that isn’t supportive of that. Tailoring the brand to the team member is what every agent should be doing, but some players also don’t care about a company’s ethics the way Parker does.
“Do you take the stairs to get extra steps in or have you like been stuck in an elevator before or something?” Parker asks, and my cheeks burn.
“I have this thing about small spaces, is all.”
“How small is too small?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to think of a response. It isn’t like there is an exact moment a space becomes too small.
“You don’t have to go into it. It’s okay,” he says, picking up his glass, taking a big sip, and finishing what was left of his wine.
I pick up the bottle and stand to pour him another glass.
“There isn’t really a size. I mean, there are places like elevators I tend to avoid, but I can be in a huge room with a bunch of people, and suddenly, it’s like there ain’t enough air in the room and I have to get out.”
“Wow, that would be stressful not knowing when it could happen.”
“I try not to think about it.”
“And I go and bring it up. Sorry.”
I laugh. “It’s fine, really. I was actually kind of expecting to have to leave the club earlier last night. I’m usually good for an hour, max, at places like that.”
His brow pinches together in thought.
“We were there for almost three.”
I nod, and the memories of us at the club fill my mind.
We continue to eat, mostly in silence. I catch myself moaning a little when the flavors are just so perfect but try to cover the fact his food is causing me to make sex noises by rolling right into a compliment about the meal or his place. All the while, I’m trying to think of how I broach the subject of us. Of there maybe being something between us and what, if anything, that even means.
“I’m glad you messaged. Last night was…fun,” I say, and he takes another large sip of wine.
“I’d forgotten how much fun it could be, if I’m honest. I’ve been out with the team for events and stuff, but last night was…different. Withyouwas different.”
“Good different, I hope.”
“Greatdifferent.”
