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“Who did you ask?”
He lifted a shoulder. “The other players. Some of the coaches. Mostly people from the team.”
Right. The team. The Texas Kings. Because he was a professional football player.
“Wait. Don’t you have an early morning walk-through tomorrow?”
“You know my schedule?”
My cheeks warmed. “I watch a lot of football.”
“Right. The stats. You know my stats better than I do.”
“I like it. I’m weird like that. You’ve been invited to play in the Pro Bowl three times, and you’ve had three of your own interceptions. In your whole career, not counting this year, you’ve had four hundred and thirty-two tackles.” My cheeks were now hot. “I could go on.”
“You do know my stats.” He squeezed my hand gently. “And that’s not weird. There are television shows about people talking about our stats.”
“But you probably need to get back, right? You need your sleep.”
We were on the outskirts of the city, which wasn’t far from where I lived, though I’d not told him that yet. He pulled over again. “It’s not too late, but yes, I should get back.”
“We can’t mess up your schedule.”
“Right.” His eyes were amused.
“Because you have a game on Sunday.”
“I do. Yes. Routine is important.”
I nodded. “Thank you for this.”
His head tilted to the side. “This?”
I shrugged. “This. The car ride. Listening to me freaking out and being okay with, well, everything. My idiosyncrasies.”
“Your idiosyncrasies are adorable. They give me a window to you.”
My idiosyncrasies are adorable?
I liked hearing that. “We’re not far from where I live,” I told him, making it sound like a confession as I leaned closer.
“You said a seventy-acre farm, so I guessed.” His head inclined toward me. “I figured if I was going the wrong way, you’d correct me.”
He was right. “No reason to further waste gas.” I scooted over another inch.
“Right. This is as much of an environmentally unfriendly date as we can get.”
“Yes. Right.”
If I moved another inch, and his head bent to stare straight down at me… If I rolled back my shoulder, tipped my head, his lips would be right there. I could brush them with mine.
But he didn’t respond. His eyes were so dark, glittering.
A need rose up through me, intertwined with an ache. I wanted to touch him, kiss him. I wanted to see how he tasted, get swept up in all the dizziness and wonderful sensations.
I hardly dared to breathe, I needed to feel him so badly.
I lifted my hand, his name falling softly from my lips, and he began to inch down to me…
