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Why, God, why?
“How much did you hear?” I regrettably ask him.
“Oh, nothing until you so kindly turned the music off and I walked down here. But feel free to fill me in on what I missed. Particularly if there was any talk about my great ass…ets.”
His smile is infectious, and I’m just so damn happy he’s standing here in front of me again that I can’t help but return it. I also can’t help but drink in the sight of him wearing a pair of black Nike athletic shorts that show off his powerful thighs and his great assets, a red Sharks T-shirt that molds to every definition of his chest and upper arms, and a baseball cap spun around backward, giving his devious smile a boyish charm that I can’t resist.
“Why are you here?”
“You seem to keep asking me that question when we meet again. I’m here to see if you’ve decided to clear your good name and take the dare.”
“I thought you left.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and Quinn definitely notices how peevish I sound, going by how quickly the corner of his mouth tips up.
“Did you miss me?”
With his hands shoved casually in the front pockets of his shorts, Quinn leans his head down and puts his mouth close to my ear, making me hold completely still, and I refuse to breathe.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I really missed you… and the tater tots from The Barge, but mostly you. Fuck. You smell really, really good.”
With those final muttered words, Quinn pulls back and lets out a small huff, running his fingers through his hair like he’s actually nervous or something, while I try not to scream like the girls behind me, who lost their ever-loving minds when Quinn got close to me.
“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes when Wren gets the girls to quiet down and focus on their stretches once more, and I remember how to breathe again. “I told myself when I left this morning to work out with the guys, have lunch, and help Miles grocery shop that I would stop pissing you off so much when I came back. Even if you are kind of fun to piss off.”
“I’m glad I amuse you,” I reply, still unable to wipe the smile off my face. “So, you took a break from annoying me for OTAs? I guess that can be forgiven.”
The impressed smile from Quinn that I’m familiar with the terminology and what the offseason looks like makes me want to puff up my feathers and be proud that I impressed him.
I really am pathetic.
“Look, I’m just going to come right out and say it, so you can get all your annoyance with me out of your system once and for all,” Quinn starts, suddenly looking serious and even more nervous. “I lied to my boss about us dating, since I freaked out when she called, because I was probably drooling over your social media pictures, and if you happen to still have that tight, black dress you wore to the APL Charity dinner last year, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again, and I spoke without thinking,” he rambles, looking so adorably flustered I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him to take a breath.
And also making me really glad I still have that black, slinky, corset dress with the thick satin pinstripes that hugs my curves down to my knees, in the back of my closet…
“I don’t want her to think I’m a dumbass when she just hired me—and I fucking love this team—by telling her I panic-lied because I was being a perv. Pretty please just go to one lunch with me, pretend to be my girlfriend for a few hours, and impress my boss, because you are really fucking impressive, and she’s going to like you more than me. And then we can amicably break up, where I’ll say all kinds of nice things about you and how I couldn’t give you the time you deserved because I need to put all my focus on football, and boom! Your name is cleared with the fans as well as in the ultimate dare industry.”
I laugh when he finally finishes and takes a breath, this big, strong, professional football player, looking like he would rather do anything else right now than admit the truth to me and why he needs my help. I just make sure it doesn’t show on my face that the whole “breaking up” talk put a damper on my good mood, and the fact that after this lunch, I’ll probably never see him again. It’s fake. He doesn’t want to real date me; he just wants to fake date me, so he doesn’t get fired. It’s fine, and I’m fine that he’s just here because he needs me to play pretend with him for a few hours.
