Page 44 of Playing for Love

Gabe

Game day morning for week two of the season began with a bang, a call from Denise telling me she couldn’t make it.

“Don’t worry, Mia will be there. I gave her my ticket. She can sub in for me.”

Was she teasing me? Did she suspect my mixed feelings, the attraction between me and Mia? Turning on the faucet to fill the bathroom sink, I pulled a fresh disposable razor from the vanity drawer. Maybe I shouldn’t bother shaving after all since Denise wouldn’t be joining me. It had been a habit for so long because she didn’t like the stubble. I dropped the razor back into the drawer and slammed it shut.

“Watch out what you wish for,” I said, testing her back.

“Cute.” She took a breath. “Look, I know you’re angry. But I’ll make it up to you. We’ll get through this.”

I had nothing to say because I knew we wouldn’t. And there was no way I wanted to have that discussion with her over the phone now. On game day morning.

“Talk to you later, hon.” She hung up.

Breathing deeply, I leaned against the vanity with my hands planted on the counter and stared in the mirror. I’d have to make a trip to Atlanta tomorrow to see Denise. It was the team’s day off because we were playing in the Monday night game the following week. I would talk to her face to face about the end of our relationship. Four and a half years.

As my racing heart slowed and my gut unclenched, I cleared my head, put Denise aside. That left Mia to deal with.

But first, I had a game to win.

* * *

I was shamefully pleasedthat Mia came to the postgame dinner even though Tate wasn’t available. His parents were visiting for the weekend—both of them. I’d made arrangements for a restaurant management firm to send help to their place, called in some favors. The people from Restaurant Impossible were glad to oblige even though it wasn’t their usual gig, but I didn’t know who else to call for advice. Tate’s parents didn’t know who was helping out, but Tate’s brother, with whom I’d coordinate everything would be there to work with them. The crew said they’d give the place a facelift while they were at it. They were going to turn it into a special show, maybe air it at Christmas.

It was a lot more than I’d bargained for as I explained at dinner, holding everyone around the table to secrecy. It was just my family—and Mia. All very trustworthy.

“So it’ll be a surprise for Tate and his parents,” I finished.

My family thought I was a saint, that it was a wonderful thing to do. I’d arranged for Tate’s brother let me know when he was going to do a video call when his parents got back so I could be in on the reveal with Tate. I made him swear not to tell anyone it was me who set it up.

“Why not take credit?” my older sister said. “You deserve it.”

“It’s not the point. I have more money than Santa Claus so I may as well act like him.”

“I think you’re a saint,” Mom said. Dad laughed, everyone else rolled their eyes.

Mia was strangely quiet. I wanted to know her opinion, if she thought it was too intrusive since she knew Tate as well as I did at this point. We were in between the salad and pasta courses, so I rose and touched Mia’s shoulder with a nod to follow me. Excusing myself, I left the table and went to the private hallway leading to the restrooms. Leaning against the wall around the corner, out of sight, I waited for her, certain she would follow. A satisfying blip in my chest as I was right made me smile.

“I’m glad you came today. I know you could have gone with Tate and his family for dinner.”

She shrugged. So far so good.

“You’ve been a good friend to him. He’s mentioned that you’ve been cooking for him, helping him out.”

That got a charming blush from her, but she said nothing. Maybe I ought to put subtlety aside and flat-out ask her what her status was with Tate, but I rejected the idea. I could do better.

“Do you think Tate will be okay with the Restaurant Impossible deal?”

“He’d be crazy to be anything but grateful.” The corners of her mouth teased upward, as if she knew I was fishing for information. Of course she knew. She was far from stupid.

“That’s what I thought, but I hadn’t planned on the spectacle of a makeover and TV special.” I grinned, wanting to touch her perfect soft face, to draw her in so I could inhale her scent.

“I’m sorry Denise canceled today,” she said.

“I’m not.” I surprised myself with the pop of clarity and truth to that statement. I’d been so mixed for so long.

Her eyes went wide for a beat then I watched them glaze with lust. Without speaking, she swayed in my direction, not an unbalanced sway, but as if she were drawn to me. I put my hands on her shoulders to hold her, not sure if I meant to bring her closer or keep her apart from me. Not yet. But the flesh of her shoulders, barely covered by a strappy top, scalded me, sent my pulse racing, made my need to connect with her urgent. In another burst of thoughtless honesty, I lowered my head and touched my lips to hers. The sizzle was immediate and unmistakable. Pressing my mouth to the moist heat of hers, deeper into the plushness, I lost myself for just one second. Then with a surge of what felt like self-preservation, I lifted my mouth from hers and took a deep breath as I released her shoulders.