Page 135 of The Thing About My Rival

My dad sounded a little more relaxed when he called to congratulate me on the GM’s job. And when he rounded off the conversation by inviting me and Hugo to Cape Cod for a weekend, he sounded like he really meant it. I haven’t gotten around to arranging it yet because everything’s been so hectic at the club—talk about role reversal—but I definitely will. And I didn’t shed a single tear when I got off the phone. So that was new.

Maybe it’s because for this particular achievement, I also have the Oldies and Hugo to be proud of me. So maybe my dad’s approval doesn’t matter as much anymore. And being less bothered by it makes me a little more proud of myself.

Down on the field, Hugo and the guys complete their gentle circuit and Michelle, this year’s intern, wheels out a cart full of yoga mats.

Hugo wanders off leaving the players to take one each.

While they lay them out on the turf, Briony, our regular yoga teacher, strolls out onto the grass, unrolls her own mat in front of them, and gets them all sitting cross-legged.

Not only did Hugo stop objecting to yoga classes for the players, he voluntarily incorporated them into training twice a week. And doesn’t even insist on staying to oversee them anymore.

Oh, how things have changed since this time last year—howwe’vechanged since this time last year.

Two sharp taps sound on the office door, and without waiting for a response, Hugo opens it and strides in.

“Well, hello.” That broad smile lifts my heart every time I see it.

“You got up here quickly.”

“Ah, you were watching me from your office in the sky. How gratifying. Can’t keep your eyes off the goods, huh?” He gestures from his head to his feet and wiggles his eyebrows.

It’s unbelievable how hot cockiness can be when you know there’s a big heart beneath it.

“Anyway.” He closes the gap between us and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Miller has hooked me up with his favorite Realtor.” He drops a light kiss on my forehead. “So shall we go looking at the weekend?”

And that makes approximately two hundred and seventy-three times that Hugo has tried to get me to go house-hunting with him since the new year.

While we are happier than I ever imagined possible and I’m absolutely certain he’s the man of my dreams, I can’t help but be a little hesitant at the thought of going one hundred percent all-in and moving in together.

Hugo is definitely ready. In that moment at the end-of-season dinner, he jumped right in with both feet and hasn’t once swum for shore.

But history has taught me you can never be too sure that the people you think will always be there for you really will be.

So I’m ninety-nine percent in—almost two feet, maybe just one big toe is clinging onto the edge for safety.

“Imagine a place that’s actually ours,” he says. “Onewe chose together. That we own. Not my soulless rented penthouse, and not your little apartment over the pub. A real home.”

“I might need a minute to?—”

“Ooo, I like what you’ve done with this place, though.” His attention is drawn over my shoulder to the two armchairs and side table by the window.

“Yeah, I had Wally help me bring them up earlier. They were just sitting in the storage room gathering dust. A quick vacuum and wipe down and they’re good as new.”

“I knew you’d make a corner for me if I waited long enough.” He heads toward the chairs, taking something from his pocket.

He crouches down and, at the sound of tape being pulled off a roll, I burst out laughing. I know exactly what he’s doing.

After a few seconds of taping, he stands up.

“There.” He admires the lines of Joyntz PT tape he’s stuck to the carpet around one of the chairs. “That one is mine.”

He makes a big show of stepping over the line, lifting his knees as if it’s a low wall, and drops into the chair, claiming his territory.

“I’m not intimidated by your boundaries, Powers.” I ignore the line completely and climb into his lap, legs dangling over one arm of the chair.

He encircles my waist and nuzzles my neck, sending that familiar, but always exciting, shiver down my side. I can’t imagine this feeling ever wearing off.

“Have I told you how much you being in charge turns me on?” he whispers against my skin, dotting kisses up to my hairline, turning the shiver into a tremble in my chest and the tremble to fireworks aimed straight at my core.

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