Page 18 of Love on the Waiver Wire

But when I get up and look through the peephole, I find Owen.

Positive it’s not a serial killer waiting on the other side for me, I crack my door open, peeking out at him as he stands in the middle of the beige hall looking, well, anything but boring and beige.

His skin is tan from the hours of practice outside in the September sun, his light brown hair streaked with gold under the fluorescent lights lining the hall. His brown eyes twinkle as he flashes a smile at me.

Owen Crosby is the kind of handsome that can put you on your knees in a second. It’s not because he’s perfect, no. It’s because he wears his flaws so confidently that they don’t really seem like flaws.

His nose is slightly crooked, and while some people with millions at their disposal would get it fixed, Owen wears it like a badge of honor. I’ve always wondered what the other guy may look like.

He’s beautiful, broken bones, scars, and all.

“So you did know,” I state dryly, opening the door a little wider.

Although I’m fine that he’s here, I wasn’t exactly planning on him showing up. My place is a bit of a mess, and if I’m honest, I’d rather not open the door to one of the hottest men in the NFL wearing an old baggy pair of paint-covered sweats and a ratty t-shirt, and I really would rather not have to talk to him with my hair looking how it is.

In any other circumstance, I think I would panic a little more. Right now, all I can think about is him knowing that Leo lied. I failed the mission.

“It wasn’t tough to figure out. A Taylor Swift reference as your team name? Really?”

I shrug. “I figured why not, you know? I didn’t think anyone would figure it out.”

He leans against the doorframe, his grin widening as a dimple appears on his right cheek. “I don’t think you accounted for my sister and my niece then.”

Of course. “No, definitely didn’t account for that.”

His eyes look me up and down, assessing my attire, and when I think he’s going to leave, he cocks his head to the side. “You think you could let me in?”

My lips thin as I scratch my head. “Are you really sure that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Is my brother home? Wouldn’t he be upset?”

“Well, I think he’d be more upset if he came out here right now and saw us talking, but if you must know, he’s out with the boys celebrating. He’ll probably be back in a bit but too intoxicated to care about what you’re doing.”

That makes sense.

Stepping out of the way, I gesture for him to come in, closing the door quietly behind him. My neighbor across from me loves to slam their door at night, and although I’ve desperately wanted to be petty back, I’ve refrained for the other neighbor’s sake.

Heading back into the family room, I watch as Owen looks around my place curiously. A part of his confidence has waned, and he looks almost unsure of what to do as he places his hands deep in the pockets of his dark jeans. I hate how my eyes zero in on the way his bicep moves when he does so.

“Are you going to tell my brother?” I ask him suddenly, frozen in the middle of the room.

He makes a face, looking over me, perplexed. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I just know he can be a little?—”

“—Intense,” Owen finishes for me.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“I’m not going to tell him. I don’t have a death wish. As long as you don’t tell him that I know, either. Just easier that way.”

I walk to the couch, sitting on the edge as I stretch my legs out in front of me, placing my hands between my thighs as I look up at the massive six-four man in front of me. “Then why did you want to know who Ian was so bad?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I knew who you were the second I left his apartment that night, Isla. I just thought it was a little fun making you sweat.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I look down to the ground.

---