Page 11 of Against the Clock

“I didn’t peg you for a fan of Star Wars,” she says.

“What’s not to love? Everybody loves Star Wars. Besides, that green guy is cute as hell.” I almost tell her it’s enough to make me want to settle down and make babies but manage to reign myself in before it slips. That would be a first date disaster I probably wouldn’t make it back from.

I do not want to fuck this up.

I don’t know everything I want to know about Kelsey Cole, but I sure as shit know that.

“What else do you like?” she asks. “That seems like a good place to start on our… date.” She says the word quietly, like she’s still testing out the idea.

“You,” I answer without hesitation, and the grin she gives me in response is the brightest I’ve seen yet.

It’s warmer than the sun.

CHAPTER 6

KELSEY

“Gardening?” I ask again, totally caught by surprise. “Really?” I’m having a hard time imagining this suit-wearing athlete hanging out around flowers. Like Ferdinand the Bull. One of my favorites from when I was little. I can still remember sitting in my dad’s lap while he read it to me.

“Yeah,” he says, a little gruffly, though he’s still grinning at me. “In the spirit of honesty, and still off the record, Kelsey Cole, I got into gardening after my divorce. I went into therapy and realized…” He clears his throat, the sound of his turn signal filling the sudden silence.

“This is awkward, isn’t it? Me talking about therapy and my divorce.” He frowns.

I shake my head, pursing my lips. “No, actually. It’s refreshing.”

It is, too. I like that he is being upfront. I like that he’s not hiding who he is, or his past, even if it’s less than sparkling.

“Well, my therapist said that maybe I was too all-or-nothing with football. Made me realize my ex-wife… she knew football always came first for me. It had to. It was my first love, my career, my everything. So I took up gardening because watching things grow… it made me feel like I could do something besides throw a ball. It’s rewarding, you know? Planting a seed, watching it bloom.”

I settle against the side of the door, curious about this man. Who would’ve thought a gardening hobby would be such a turn-on?

“What?” he asks, his gaze flicking from me to the road. “You have a look on your face. Is that weird?”

“Not at all. Makes me wish I had more hobbies. I have room for maybe a plant in my apartment. A plant. Definitely not a garden.” I snort. “How do you even have time for that?” I almost add that I know how much time football truly eats up, eroding relationships and everything else, relentless and all-consuming.

I stop myself before I say it.

His expression turns rueful, and he’s quiet again for a moment. “That’s part of the challenge, at the moment, at least. Finding time for things I love besides football.”

He casts me a sidelong glance, and butterflies take flight in my stomach at the heat in his gaze. Like maybe he wants something… more from me than one date.

I shouldn’t think like that. He hardly has time for his plants.

Relationships take a lot more than water and sunlight.

Gravel crunches under the truck’s tires and I turn my attention away from Daniel, realizing with a slight twinge of embarrassment that I’ve been straight-up staring at him for the last five minutes.

He’s pretty easy to look at.

The restaurant appears to take up the main floor of an old house. Chipped white paint peels from the siding, but a jaunty red striped awning juts into the night air, an open sign blinking in the window.

“Want to go in?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”

Before I have time to even grab my purse, Daniel’s out of the truck and jogging around to open my door. I squint at him, unsure if this is some weird sign that he’s super old-fashioned and out of touch.

“The ground here isn’t great for heels,” he says apologetically, offering me a hand.

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