Page 56 of The Player's Obsession

“Yes, it did! She wasn’t formally educated, but she was wise. She was proud I was going to college. She knew what hard work was because she’d been widowed for years and lived in the house she had in upstate New York.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Her heart went. She missed Grandpa, and she was ready for years. She used to say she didn’t know why God kept her here so long, and she figured it was to be here for my brother and me.”

“I can see where you get your determination from,” he replies thoughtfully.

“I’m sure. We didn’t look alike, but we were both stubborn and tenacious.”

“I’d say you still are.”

“I suppose so. Is it bad?”

“No, I think you’re original. I never know what you’re going to say next.”

“I think you know me better than you realize.”

"Do I?" His voice lifts into a higher note, tinged with a hint of disbelief.

“Yes. And you know it, so stop pretending like you don’t. You’re a bit of a smartass.”

He chuckles. “I am.”

I look at the electronic road map on the console. “We’ll be there soon. We need to get a story of how we met and all that stuff.”

“Mm. I suppose we do. I do remember our first kiss, does that help?”

Lord, help me. We won’t make it to the hotel room if he keeps this up. I’m so horny I’m surprised I haven’t come in my panties. The warmth of the heated seats isn’t making it any easier to forget the stud sitting next to me.

CHAPTER25

Oliver

“Okay, so, how we met… mm,” I say, looking at Penelope. “What do you think?”

“Coffee shop?”

“Very generic. How about I bumped into you carrying coffee and spilled some on your Chanel suit? You were miffed, so I offered to take you to dinner to make up for it.”

“To which I said, ‘No, thank you.’” She’s smirking. I think she’s enjoying this part, the rejection part.

“Right. But I wasn’t giving up that easy. I was smitten and found myself staring at your gorgeous body and curvy ass as you strutted past and out the door.”

“Then you followed me. When I reached my car, you scared the life out of me. I accused you of being a stalker.”

“And I had to convince you I wasn’t some random creep, so I told you I played on the Megalodons football team, and we started to talk. Let me add that I talked until you deemed me safe enough to have dinner with me. There you go, that’s our origin story,” I say as if I finished a marathon.

She nods. “Damn, we make good storytellers, and it’s not far from the truth.” I know she loves the part about how she turned me down. I’ll have to suffer the blunt force trauma to my ego in order to keep her happy and on point.

“Which coffee shop?” she asks.

“The one in Camden Square.”

“Okay, it’s out of my way, but they’ll never know.”

“Let’s just stick as close to the truth as we can.”

“Yeah, keep it simple so we don’t get tripped up on the details,” she adds.

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