Page 15 of Home Game

“You seem shocked.”

My shoulders shake with a tiny laugh.

“Gobsmacked.”

“Ha!” Wyatt busts out, his hand forming a quick fist over his mouth as he holds the rest of his laughter at bay.

“He’s a good quarterback,” I say for some reason, once again shrugging. It’s like I’m compelled to make excuses for having been in a relationship with Bryce.

“I’m better,” Wyatt says quickly.

My lips instinctively purse as I rest my arm on the deck and tilt my head.

“What? I am. You’ll see. And your dad . . . I bet he’s seen the tape.” His gaze shifts to the surface of the water over my body, and I cross my legs. Thanks to the soft glow of the spa light and the lack of foam, I’m not terribly hidden.

“Volumes of film. I think he has an entire hard drive about you,” I tease, though sadly, it may not be much of an exaggeration. Wyatt chuckles, and it doesn’t come off as arrogant. There’s a modesty to his expression.

“You know . . .” He stops his words and bites the tip of his tongue, his gaze drifting to me as his cheeks dimple with a guilty smirk. He looks away again, and I fear he’s going to leave me with more unfinished thoughts. I still don’t know what that wholedependsthing meant about calling him Bub.

“Spill it,” I say, stretching my right foot and pressing my toe against his thigh. His focus drops below the water as his hand wraps around my foot. He presses his thumb into my arch, then shifts to face me and takes my foot in both of his hands so he can fully massage it. It’s glorious, and I wish I could enjoy it, but I’m too busy staving off the fantasy of his hands roaming up my leg.

“That thing you said about being alone,” he begins.

I train my attention on his words even though the devil on my shoulder is whispering naughty thoughts in my ear, thanks to the way his palm presses against my skin. I lift my chin to meet his stare.

“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out.

“My dad died at the start of the year, right after the holidays.” His confession is so matter-of-fact it’s obvious he’s made it plenty of times—probably too many times. But despite his emotions remaining in check, his words send a sharp prick to the corners of my eyes. Tears form fast, and I feel instant guilt that he has to see them.

“Sorry,” I say, swiping them away.

His mouth forms a soft, lopsided grin, and his hands are still tender on my foot under the water.

“Thanks, but I’m all right. And my mom is a strong woman.”

“Resilient,” I say, my new understanding sinking in.

“Beyond.”

We share a long look, and for once, the quiet between us doesn’t feel like torture. The pull is there, though. Wyatt Stone has me so curious.Morecurious. And very confused.

“Two waters for the lame-asses!” Tasha drops the plastic bottles into the hot tub between us, and I jerk my foot out of Wyatt’s hands. I don’t think she noticed, and the hot tub makes for a nice excuse for my entire body being beet-red.

“I think I’ll take mine to go. I should head out,” Wyatt says, snagging both bottles and setting mine on the deck. He skipsthe steps, instead lifting himself to the edge. His workout shorts cling to his thighs, and he tries to wring the water out as best he can. His muscular build—and other things—are still very much on display.

It’s a good thing I didn’t let him talk me into him spending the night. I’m pretty sure we’d be making out tonight. And I meant what I said about being all right with being alone. At least right now. And certainly not with another fucking quarterback.

“Nice suit,” I say, unable to help myself as he runs a towel over his shoulders.

He smirks as he grabs his T-shirt from the nearby table, then slips it over his head.

“Not half as nice as yours,” he responds with a wink. He bites his bottom lip, too, and goddamn if my chest isn’t completely overwhelmed with thunder.

“Ladies,” he continues, holding up his water in thanks to Tasha before strolling away.

Thankfully, Lexi keeps her mouth shut as he leaves. But the moment the sliding glass doors to the hotel lobby shut, both of my besties’ glare at me with open mouths.

“We said we wouldn’t make this a thing,” I warn them, but even I know that this—tonight—was very much a thing.

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