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So, I’d allow myself this fantasy in my head.
As long as I didn’t act on it in real life.
* * *
“Did you give her my phone number?” I hissed at Brinkley after we’d gotten back to my kitchen after our run.
We’d worked out together every day for the last week.
We’d run. We’d swum. We’d eaten a few meals back at my house together because we’d been starving after our workouts.
I didn’t mind hanging out with her, even if she found reasons to argue with me over the smallest things.
I’d rejected a ton of her questions this week, and she was still angry about it.
She was fucking funny and witty, and I was still pissed at how fucking good she looked in a bikini.
“I didn’t give Brandy your phone number, you big baby. You order dinner from Reynolds’ all the time, and you give your phone number when you call in.” She laughed.
“Oh, I’m a big baby? She’s texted me five hundred fucking times about this surprise. I said I’d show up. Now she’s got me on a time schedule, and she wants me to stay for a while after. I thought I was tossing a ball, watching the dude kick one or two field goals, and getting the fuck out of there.”
She smiled and shook her head. “He idolizes you. You’ll be making his birthday really special.”
My phone dinged, and I handed it to her. “This is what I’m dealing with.”
She took it from me and looked down to read the texts. “Um, wow. She has texted you a lot. She wants you to make a poster for him?”
I groaned. “How the fuck did I get myself into this? I don’t even go to birthday parties for my close friends that often. Now I’m practically hosting this fucking birthday party.”
“Okay, you’re being a little dramatic. It’s not that big of a deal. I’ll help you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll make the poster if you give me four questions today.”
I studied the little diva. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
“Nope. That’s the deal. Or we can just do the usual three, and you’re on your own.”
“Fine. Four questions. You make the poster, and you have to go with me tonight. I don’t want to be a third wheel in some high school lovefest.”
“How do you know I don’t have plans tonight?”
“Do you? If so, I guess if you want the extra question, you’ll cancel your plans.” I wanted to know if she had plans. I assumed she didn’t have a boyfriend because she’d never mentioned one. But I suddenly needed to know. “Unless your boyfriend will have a problem with that.”
She raised a brow and chuckled. “Very sly. It’s a good thing you’re a football player and not a reporter. That was not smooth. If you want to ask me something, you can just ask. Unlike you, I don’t have a ton of rules.”
“Well, you’re pretty good at avoiding the question because I believe I already asked it, and you still haven’t answered. Do you have plans tonight, and will your boyfriend mind if you cancel them?” I crossed my arms over my chest, anxious for her to answer the damn question.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t have plans.”
Relief flooded, which made no sense at all. I wasn’t trying to date the woman interviewing me, even if I was getting off to thoughts of her in the shower every day. That was because I was a horny dude, nothing more. We were spending a lot of time together, and she was attractive.
End of story.
“Why the hell did you make this so difficult, then?”
“Because I could.” She shrugged. “You certainly haven’t made my life easy.”
