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Mary-Beth tapped the pen against her lip, staring up at the chandelier and then casting her gaze around the room. I tried not to think about how hot she looked in jeans – I’d only seen her in dresses before that day, and I loved those too. But the curves of her hips, and the way they showed off her ass… Sweet Lord, have mercy.
“You know what this apartment needs?” she said then. “Something a little special. You know what? I think we should go all out with antique period pieces and let it out fully furnished. It’s too beautiful for someone to come in here and fill it with stuff from Walmart.”
“No one’s going to do that,” I said. I’d drawn close to her without realizing it and now I found myself right by her side, wanting to take the pen away from her lips and kiss her hard. I resisted the urge, of course. “If they do, I’ll have them evicted,” I said. “Or killed.”
She laughed. “Good.” Then she stretched her arms above her head, completely unaware of how sexy she looked doing it. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I could do with a coffee,” she said. “There’s a great place on Williamsville Street that does an Ethiopian blend, freshly ground. It’s to die for. We could get some lunch there and then check out the antiques shops in that area-…”
She stopped talking suddenly and glanced up at me – her sassy attitude gone for a moment, her eyes questioning. She looked vulnerable, in the most beautiful way, and my heart leapt. “I mean, if you have time…”
“That would be great,” I said. “If we can make some decisions on the spot and get a lot of this done today, even better. Money no object.”
She shrieked and nudged my arm. “Oh, my God, Alex! Don’t let the dealers hear you saying that!”
She put her hand on my shoulder and steered me to the apartment door. Everything in my body responded to her touch, and it was all I could do not to turn and wrap my arms around her and kiss the living daylights out of her. But I just kept walking, trying to look casual and not trip over my own feet.
“So, I shouldn’t just hand them my AmEx then?”
“You most definitely should not!”
* * *
Mary-Beth had been right about the coffee, and I’d gotten myself a turkey bagel too.
“I have to get this here,” I told the server. “She ate all mine at home.”
“Hey!” Mary-Beth protested. “Don’t tell everyone that!”
The man smiled warmly at us both. “Great to see you still out on the field, chief,” he said then. “I’ve been at every game, wouldn’t miss one.” Clearly one of the Bills’ Mafia then. “This will be your year – we’re all behind you.”
I shook his hand and thanked him. “Stuff it with salad,” I said, gesturing at the baguette. “I need to keep in shape and do you all proud.”
He’d called his wife out from the kitchen then and we’d had photos. They’d very sweetly asked for Mary-Beth to be in them too.
I’d smiled through it all, but cringed inside, convinced that they’d thought she was my daughter. Imagine if we were dating – what would people say then?
The media pictures had come out, of the two of us at the hotel gym opening, so some people thought we were an item, I reminded myself. There hadn’t been any bad feedback about the age gap, though. There had only been positive comments from social media bloggers and fan sites about how I still had it, and how there was life in the old dog yet, according to my PR team.
I hadn’t mentioned any of that to Mary-Beth, though. It didn’t feel right somehow – too much like male locker room bragging. And anyway, it wasn’t what the media thought that concerned me, or the fans. It was what her father, my daughter and my very vicious ex-wife would think. Not that I had to worry about that – we wouldn’t be dating. She’d made that crystal clear with her strong words back at the apartment. She’d drilled it right into my head just in case I’d had any doubts. Nothing – absolutely nothing – was going to happen between us. End of story.
“See, they’re all rooting for you,” said Mary-Beth, as we sat down in a quiet corner with our food. She’d gone for a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel – the forbidden stuff of my dreams.
“I wish that were true,” I said, engulfing my baguette. “I know some of the fans feel angry and let down. I’m still struggling with that, even though my sports psychologist has helped me with it. I can’t help feeling personally responsible.”
She grinned. “Typical man, making it all about you.”
My usual grumpy defenses came up, but then the smile on her face caught my heart and I couldn’t help smiling too. “Yeah, I’m just a big ego running around in, what was it? Lycra or Spandex man-leggings - isn’t that what you called them?”
She laughed and blushed a little. “Something like that. God, am I really so abrasive?” she said then, putting her head in her hands.
“Kind of,” I said, taking a risk. “That was pretty harsh back in the apartment, to be honest. I mean, I know I probably do have a pretty big ego, you’re not wrong about that, but boy, did it get smashed back there.”
She blushed again and busied herself with her coffee. “I don’t know where all that stuff came from,” she said after a while, still not looking at me. “I mean, what I said about you making a big point of not finding me attractive…”
“I wasn’t doing that, honestly,” I insisted.
“I know. Well, I know that now,” she said. “But I couldn’t hear you at the time. It’s like the insecurity mist comes over me and I don’t hear anything apart from rejection, rejection, rejection, and then I get mean.”
“You weren’t mean,” I said. I wondered if the rejection thing had started way back, with Jason – he wasn’t exactly a family man. But I didn’t mention it. Again, not my business, I thought.
