Page 33 of Tight End

Poppy: She’s not going to like football daddy, I can tellyou that.

Me: No shit, Sherlock.

Poppy: Do you think he has any friends he can bring? There are some real hotties on the team.

Poppy: Don’t worry about Mom. She wants you to be with some douche who has a prestigious job, preferably a lawyer or a doctor, clean-cut, predictable, boring. Basically Paul but without the penchant for penis.

Me: We all saw how that ended.

Kinsley: In a blaze of gay-for-you glory. The MM book readers would have eaten that story up. Sucks in real life, though.

Me: Yeah, well, that’s exactly why dating is not on the table for me right now, if not ever. Paul was the only guy I dated and hell, aside from Ryan, is the only man I’ve ever been with. I can’t do that again.

Kinsley: Not all relationships will end like that.

Me: I know, but between Oliver and the studio, what time do I have? Dating is not a priority for me and I’m not sure when it will be.

Poppy: It’s never been on your list, June. You’re too comfortable.

Kinsley: She’s not wrong. You’re the poster child for playing it safe.

Me: You don’t get hurt playing it safe, girls.

Poppy: You don’t get to really live your life either.

Poppy: Just saying.

Well, they know I’m safe, and that is the end of that conversation. I don’t need to be lectured about how I live my life from myyoungersister. Mom criticizes it enough, and if that was something I wanted to listen to, I’d have gone to her place.

Right now I need to focus on my family, on fighting this attraction to a taken man, and I need to clear my head.

THIRTEEN

Ryan

I’ve managedto avoid touching June all day, which I’m counting as a win, especially when her skin calls to me like nothing else. I’ve been good. Okay, I’ve been average. I might have made eyes at her a few times during dinner, but don’t worry, I was quick to look away whenever she turned in my direction, so she’ll never know.

Thank God Oliver wanted to watch that movie. It was my saving grace.

While I didn’t actually get to see any of it, I was sufficiently distracted. Oliver talked my ear off the entire hour and a half, telling about his favorite characters and explaining what he liked during every scene. June was on his other side—far away from me—trying not to laugh as I was pelted with questions and movie facts.

I’m assuming that’s what happens when you watch a movie with a toddler.

Couldn’t say for sure, though. I’ll have to ask ... who the fuck has kids? Vaughn fucking Westgate. Ironman himself. He has kids—two girls, if I remember correctly.

I make a mental note to pull him aside sometime this week and ask him a few things.

And speaking of the King of Questions, he must be asleep. We’ve had silence for the past ten minutes straight, and the credits have begun to roll. This will be my first night with June, and I’m so out of sorts. A point only punctuated as I lift Oli from the couch and cradle him against my chest.

He curls into me, his soft snores never abating as I climb the stairs, but by the time we make it to the top, his hand has curled into my shirt.

Things are so much different now.

Not bad.

Just different.

A good different.

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