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Clint shakes his head, his face so sincere that I can hardly dare to doubt him. “No, I don’t. You’re someone special. Someone I need to know.”
“In the biblical sense?”
“In every sense.”
Eight
Clint
I drop her off at the door to her apartment. We stand in the hall making out for so long that her face is red from my two days’ worth of whiskers and I’m hard as fucking granite by the time she pulls away for the last time.
“I have to get changed and get to the gym.” She sighs and leans her head on my chest for a second.
“Come to my place when you’re done, okay? I’ll make you some supper.”
“You cook?”
“I’m no Gordon Ramsay but I can make a few things.”
She smiles at me and chuckles a little. “What am I doing?”
“You’re falling for Mr. Right.”
“At exactly the wrong time.”
I shake my head. “Not possible. Can’t you feel it? Everything is finally falling into place. Right now. Right here. And it’s going to be perfect.”
She stares up at me, her face full of emotion. Nodding, she says, “Yeah, I think I know what you mean.”
I pull her in for a hug, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “Now, you go hit the gym. I need to see if I can rustle up some groceries and tidy up my place. You’d be surprised what a mess a couple of guys can make in two days.”
I all but jog down the stairs of her building and out onto the cold sidewalk. There’s a small grocery store on the other side of the Athletes’ Village campus. Light snow begins to fall and I stuff my hands in my coat pockets, finding myself feeling warm and happy in spite of the bleak day. I am in love. For the first time in my entire life, I am madly, completely, crazy in love. And I know it’s insane to feel like this after only a few hours, but I do. I just do and there’s no stopping it.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Hunter: I’ll be entertaining a lady this evening. Can you teach me how to make that pasta sauce, then make yourself scarce?
A moment later, I get a message back from him. Uh-oh! Sounds serious.
Me: I hope so.
Hunter: Who the fuck is this and why do you have Clint’s cell phone?
Three hours later, I’ve tidied our little apartment, done all the dishes, learned how to make a Bolognese sauce, made a huge salad, and prepared a pot for the angel hair pasta, which Hunter said not to cook until she gets here. I’ve also showered again and shaved so I won’t give her whisker burn. I stand, staring out the window, watching for her to come hurrying up the sidewalk. The sky is growing dark now, and I actually don’t even like the thought of her walking alone over here. She’s too little to be out in the world without someone to protect her. I consider going over to her place to walk her here, but then realize that she might be coming straight from the gym.
Hunter, who is getting ready to hit the town with the rest of the team, comes out of his bedroom. He pulls his coat on and shakes his head at me. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“Like what?” I turn and look out the window.
“Like an old lady. Tidying, cooking. You even shaved your beard for once.”
“I don’t know how many old ladies you know, but most of them don’t have beards.”
Hunter chuckles. “You know what I meant. She must be something for you to go to all this trouble.”
“She is, man.” I glance over my shoulder. “And if you tell anyone, you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning with no eyebrows.”
I don’t have to wait long after Hunter leaves for her to show up. As soon as I see her, I rush downstairs and out the front door of the building to meet her. She looks lovely, her hair is down, curling out from under her wool cap. Her hands are shoved deep into her jacket pockets and she looks chilly. I’m overwhelmed by the need to warm her up, unable to stand seeing her so cold.
“Hi,” I say, trying to sound casual, even though I’m anything but around her.
