Page 76 of Against The Rules

Not a great way for her to wake up.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text to the cleaning service Jacob and I use at our house, along with Savannah’s address.

That’s one thing scratched off the list, at least. Since I don’t have time to do it for her, getting my service to do it is the next best thing.

I should leave her a note.

I have no idea where she keeps anything. Another text comes in.

They’ll fine you if you’re late.

“Shit,” I repeat. Jacob’s right. I need to get down there. I rake a hand through my hair. I’ll text her when I get on the plane. That’s fine.

I’ll text her again when we land, and at the hotel, and before the game…

I can’t stop the silly smile on my face as I let myself out of her house, locking the door on the way.

I’ve spent the last year thinking I had everything I wanted when I was drafted to play for the Beavers. Worst team in the league, but I was starting. It was everything I’d wanted in college and high school and before that.

Now? With Savannah in my life?

I realize I had no idea what I was missing.

CHAPTER 32

SAVANNAH

When I wake up, I have no idea what it is that’s dragged me out of sleep.

Until it comes again. Someone’s knocking on the front door. What? Why?

Ugh.

I get out of bed, then screech as I step on a piece of plastic… chair. Shit. Ugh, I’m so sore. Not in a bad way…

Heat blasts through my cheeks as the night comes screeching back into my memories, along with the shock of what Tyler told me as I was drifting off to sleep in his arms.

He loves me.

The knock comes again.

“Crap,” I say. “I’m coming!” I yell, louder now. Whoever is at my door at ten AM on a Saturday, they mean business. Maybe Presley forgot her key.

I throw on my clothes from last night, then race to the front door.

Not Presley.

A crew of three women look up at me, grinning. I touch my face, then try to slick back my mop of hair.

Mops.

They’re holding mops?

“Hi, you must be Savannah,” one woman says. “We usually clean Tyler’s house, he sent us over here to help out.”

“Oh,” I have no idea what to say. I blink at them. “I don’t think I can afford—”

“He already paid for it,” an older woman says, lifting up a bucket full of spray bottles. “You want us to come in? We’ll take his money either way.”

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