Page 69 of Kiss Me Tonight

“At the risk of you turning back into Sour Puss McGhee, someone’s got to. We keep you on your toes, her more so than me.”

“Oh, oh right. Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Woefully Distracted.”

I grimace.

Unfortunately for Mr. Deegan Homer, I spent our entire interview distracted by one perky head football coach. The curve of her ass as she leaned forward in the chair, tucking one ankle behind the other, all demure-like. The straight line of her back as she talked about the team with pride and excitement. The bow of her upper lip that stretched a little unevenly when she smiled.

“DaSilva.”

I snap to attention. “Yeah.”

“What do you regret?” Nick asks, the words spoken low and carefully like he’s aware of how easily they’ll spook me.

I think of Levi dry-humping me like her life depended on it.

And then I think of the boys on my team—boys like Topher, who mentioned how much he wouldn’t mind another round of mini-golf with hope in his blue eyes—who’re downright thrilled to have me here to coach them. Not the charming Dominic. Or the unfeeling Dominic. Or the bad-to-the-bone Dominic.

But rather the Dominic who cares, the one who started Junior Buccaneers and spends more time than not working with charities across the country that are directly involved with kids in foster care.

That’sthe version of me that they see and idolize.

Tossing the capped bottle to the side, I turn to look back at my master bedroom. It’s in complete upheaval—not that it bothers me. I’ve slept on the couch ever since I moved in. Same way I’ve slept on the couch at every place I’ve ever lived in for as long as I can remember.

“I regret believing that my life was so predictable that I had to do something insane, like go on a dating show, to prove to myself that I was still alive.”

Nick’s delayed response proves he doesn’t get it.

Levi would, though.

Levi would understand all that I hadn’t said in a heartbeat.

20

Aspen

Moonlight slips through the drawn curtains when I feel a vibration coming from within the bedsheets.

With my face buried in my pillow, I flatten a hand and thump around for my phone. My alarm clock is only inches away on my nightstand, but without my glasses, the digital numbers are nothing but a blur of neon red.

I flip onto my back, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Feel around for another second and yes, right . . .there.

Not even bothering to look at the incoming caller, I answer and then tap the general vicinity on the screen where the speakerphone option is. Dropping the phone on my chest, I sleepily croak out, “’ellow?”

“Hey.”

That voice.

My eyes spring open. “Dominic?”

“Yeah, it’s . . . me.”

I can almost imagine him repositioning his baseball hat on his head. Except that it’s—

“What time is it?” I flop onto my side, taking my phone with me as I snatch up the alarm clock and shove it front and center in my face. “Three. It’s three in the morning and you’re calling”—alarm bells go off in my head as panic settles in—“are you okay? Did something happen?” My legs scissor the sheets as I drop the clock back in its spot and shoot up in the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“I wanted to know if you might go for a swim with me.”

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