Page 150 of Tangled with the Tight End

I crack up. “What? Did you actually just ask that?”

“You don’t want to tell your parents we’re dating, right?”

“I want to time the reveal.”

“Which has nothing to do with me … except if I were a supermodel, you’d tell them today.”

“That sounds awful,” I admit.

“I get it. Not because you prefer supermodels. Because your parents do.”

“Let them get to know you—to see us together.”

“Together, but not together together.” Her tone doesn’t have any upsetment in it.

“I want them to know you. Who could meet you and not love you?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people,” she says.

“Really? Because my team loves you. My coaches love you. My trainers love you. This town loves you.”

She just huffs out a dismissive laugh.

“Who doesn’t love you?”

“Maybe your parents.” She shrugs, but I can tell it matters to her.

“They will. Give them time.”

“I get it. If you order steak, you don’t want a burger. Even if the burger is really funny and kind and really likes your son.”

“The Winona Burger,” I say. “My favorite. But you’re not less than steak. And … why are we talking about steak and burgers?”

We both start laughing. She leans forward while she’s laughing and I wrap my arms around her and hold her to me.

“Thank you,” I say into her hair.

“For being your dirty little secret?” she giggles mischievously and looks up at me.

“Stop saying that.” I smile down at her.

She wags her brows. “Dirty little secret.”

“No one could possibly contain you,” I say.

“Unruly as I am.”

“Unique. One hundred percent authentic. All you,” I say with a smile.

“Or … some might say … quirky, a little bit of a train wreck, but always a good time.”

“Don’t do that,” I say.

“Do what?” She shrugs.

“Sell yourself short.”

She stares into my eyes, her playfulness morphing into something more vulnerable.