Page 74 of Playing Mr. Perfect

That sucks. Or maybe it’s better, if his dad is a deadbeat.

“I remember how hard it was keeping up with school and football.” Beyond classes and football, my biggest worry was which party to attend. “I can’t imagine working full time on top of that.”

He shrugs. “We got through the season, and when I go pro, she’ll never have to worry again.”

“You’re a good man, Ben.”

We talk about the game, and he tells me about the areas in which he’s trying to improve. He asks me a hundred questions about what it’s like to play for the NFL. I like this kid. He’s got his priorities straight, and he’s hungry for the game.

“If you want to run some drills while I’m in town, I’d be happy to help you out,” I offer.

His eyes widen. “Are you serious? That would be amazing.”

“Absolutely, but you’ve got to do me a favor.”

“Anything. You name it.”

Thinking about Pepper, I say, “Think you can keep this off social media?”

“You’ve got my word. You said you’re keeping it on the down-low.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Message received, bro. You can count on me.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t know what my schedule will be like while I’m here, but if you give me your number, I’ll text you and let you know when I’ve got some free time. If you’re available and it works out, great. If not, no worries.”

“That would be awesome. I work tomorrow from four till eleven, and Sunday morning. I’ve got classes from…”

He goes on about his school and work schedules, but I cut him off. “I’ll never remember all that. Why don’t we start with a phone number, and we’ll figure out the rest later?”

After he gives me his number, I tell him I’ll be in touch and head out, excited to see Pepper and looking forward to working out with Ben.

I run straight to Pepper’s house. She lives on a quaint residential street, with mature trees and well-kept homes with wide front porches, like hers. I don’t know what time she leaves for work, but my plan was to get there by seven thirty, and I climb her porch steps at seven twenty-five. I wipe the sweat from my brow and knock.

My fucking heart beats faster at the sound of her footsteps nearing the door. She peers out the sidelight, and man, her smile is prettier than the fucking sun. She opens the door, stunning and professional in a sleek camel-colored knit dress and knee-high boots, but it’s the heat in her eyes as her gaze moves down my body that has my heart feeling like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.

“Hi,” she says with surprise.

“Good morning, neighbor. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks. Did you run here?”

“Yes. I wanted to walk my girl to work.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

“Really.” I lean in and kiss her smiling lips. “That is, if you don’t mind being seen with a sweaty guy.”

“I like you sweaty.” Her gaze roams down my chest again.

“Careful, Reckless.” I slip my arm around her, drawing her against me. “Keep talking like that and I might just make you late for work.”

“Don’t tell me that when I’ve been thinking about you all night.” Her words fall fast and flustered, and she steps out of my grip.

“Get over here, you adorable thing.” I step inside, pulling her close again.

She groans. “Why do you have to feel so good?”

“I should ask the same of you.” I lower my voice. “So you’ve been thinking about me, huh?”

“Clay,” she warns, but it’s breathy and half-hearted.