Page 29 of Offsides Attraction

I don’t think so.

Dessert?

I doubt it.

No food and you’re driving your clown-car. What’s in it for you?

Good night, George. Penny gave him an extra cuddle before setting him in the middle of the couch—his favorite spot—and locking the door behind her.

George’s question poked at her. Kisses are in it for me, and increased powers. She looked around her apartment, identical to Maggie’s, but very different. Maggie’s was homey and uncluttered, but Penny filled hers with her travel treasures and overflowing bookshelves. Maggie’s kitchen was always spotless, but Penny’s wasn’t. Dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter didn’t bother her, not when there was a book waiting, or dogs to be walked and loved on at the rescue center.

Penny could have used her magic to keep the kitchen tidy, but magic required energy. To increase her powers, she needed to either get more energy or be more efficient in how she used it. For all the Buchanan witches, it was a matter of choice. They couldn’t be magicking willy-nilly. Every energy adjustment needed to be a conscious decision. Penny used hers like a personal assistant to help multitask in the office—when no one was around—and now as she got ready for her non-date date with Bash.

One hand directed the hot rollers and the other the clothes steamer. She could have magicked the wrinkles away in the colorful tunic with its square neckline and bold, geometric patterns, but it was easier to magic the steamer than the crisp cotton. And it left her with energy to magic the hot rollers.

She normally wore her strawberry blonde hair pulled back, otherwise there was too much red around her face. But not tonight. The cat hair on her black pants forced her to rethink her outfit, which forced her to rethink a few other things, too. So far, the only thing she’d gotten out of this deal with Bash was a hot kiss by her car that had left her heart pounding and her knees weak and a platonic kiss the other night.

He’d stopped by Get Lost at closing time and peppered her with unending business-related questions as she closed the register and turned off the lights. It took twice as long as it usually did. His irritation during the process hadn’t helped, either. When she’d told him she could close or answer his questions, he’d mumbled something about it not looking complicated and she should be able to do both. He let her finish in peace before asking, “Feel like ice cream? Cal says there’s a place nearby.” And that’s how she’d ended up splitting a hot fudge caramel sundae with him and walking around Tumble Falls wearing his sweatshirt, feeling like a high schooler with stars in her eyes walking with the quarterback.

But she wasn’t an overly emotional teen, and he wasn’t the most popular guy on campus. He was arrogant, abrasive, and a nonreader. He didn’t check any of her boxes, other than his height and good looks. And his intelligence and dry humor, she admitted as she turned off the steamer and glanced at the tunic.

She’d purchased it on a whim while traveling in Spain. By the time her trip ended, she was sick and tired of wearing it, so she’d stuck it in the back of her closet. It didn’t fit with her earth-toned, business casual vibe at work or what she wore on dates. But with black tights and her black suede ankle boots, the low-cut tunic could work as a short dress. He wouldn’t expect her to show up wearing something bold and sexy like this. Hopefully, she’d pull a quarterback sack and knock him off his feet so she could sneak past his defenses and read him. And snag a few kisses, too.

Bash stood awkwardly on the sidelines, smiling at the attendees who’d caught his attention. His interview had ended early and instead of driving around to kill time, he’d come straight to the museum, eager to see Penny.

He’d forgotten that being on time opened him up to idle chitchat. Bash nodded his head and tried to pay attention to an exhibit sponsor—an impossible task since the man was duller than dirt and tacky with his donation request—when the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. He turned toward the danger and gulped.

“Excuse me,” Bash said, before walking away, and leaving the old man sputtering in his wake. Bash wasn’t letting Penny walk through the event alone. Several heads had already turned, and some prick was bound to make a move on her.

Her hair was a riot of curls with that tousled post-sex look he hadn’t seen on a woman for months. And that dress, what there was of it, was more colorful and interesting than anything hanging on the walls. The bright colors should have washed her out, but they framed her like a living work of art. The low-cut neckline finally gave him a glimpse of her incredible rack, but he feared the straight cut of the dress would hide her runner’s ass. She looked stylish and edgy, with a look all her own. Penny would fit into any New York City gallery opening his parents dragged him to.

Penny froze, but her eyes raked over him as he approached. Holy hell, Penny’s hot, he thought, stopping in front of her. They stared at each other, forcing other attendees to walk around them. Bash heard one couple debate if they were part of the exhibit as living statues.

“You’re late,” Bash said, sounding rougher than he’d like.

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. Parking was—”

“You should have called.” She stepped away from him, but he grabbed her hand. He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away. He was being a first-class ass. Bash hated these types of events, and he’d expected his friendly shopgirl to show up, not this heart-stopping version who short-circuited his brain. He took a deep breath and stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” He leaned closer. “You look nice,” he said, before dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“You clean up pretty good, too.” She gave him a tight smile, which didn’t reassure him, but she accepted a drink when he snagged one from a passing waiter. Their fingers brushed and her eyes widened. It would be easier for him to battle his attraction to her if he didn’t know she felt the same. Penny had zero game-face. She broadcasted every emotion across her lovely face.

“Have you looked around?”

“A bit.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s not the Met, but it’s not bad.” He shrugged.

“Such high praise.” Several people approached and asked him to sign the exhibit’s brochure. Penny nodded slightly so he pulled the purple marker from inside his suit coat. He preferred black, but the Tetons’ PR department wanted players to use purple, one of the team’s colors. Complying was an easy way to keep them happy and off his back. “You’re good at that,” Penny said as the couples walked away, rehashing their experience.

“Signing my name?” She rolled her eyes and gently elbowed him in the ribs.

“No, dealing with the fans. It would drive me crazy. But you have people skills, you know.”

“Sixty-second interactions don’t make a relationship. I need help with the one-on-one ongoing personal ones. And it would drive you crazy because you’d want more than sixty-seconds. You’d want to know more about them and make a connection, like you do with everyone. You’re not happy with the surface. You want to go deeper.”

“Don’t you?”

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