Page 98 of Their Greatest Strength

She parts her lips on a long inhale, lashes fluttering. Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Not right now, Jamie.”

“You’re right.”

I’d prefer not to stop, but with impeccable timing, Clyde saunters into the lounge. The short, balding man smiles at us, and slowly, I release my wife.

“Jamie and Blakely! Oh, my favourite wide receiver has arrived, and he brought his wife,” he exclaims, clapping twice.

I rest a hand on Blakely’s back. “Don’t lie, Clyde. You and I both know you don’t choose favourites.”

“If I did, it would be you two,” he argues.

“In that case, I’d like to introduce you to Blakely. Blakely, this is Clyde.”

The bubbly man rushes toward us and takes Blakely’s arms in his hands. He inspects her from head to toe with a smile that may as well be a declaration of acceptance.

“You’re just as beautiful as Jamie said you were.”

She lifts a brow at me. “Is that so?”

“As if you didn’t already know I’ve been telling everyone I know about you. Clyde is downplaying it, to be honest.”

He laughs and releases her. “I’m just happy to have a chance to meet you before I’m finished here. And to witness with my own eyes if Jamie was right about your passion and love of cooking.”

Blakely straightens her shoulders, preparing for her test. “Cooking was my dream once upon a time.”

“And now?”

“I’ve never felt more excited to get my hands dirty again.”

Clyde beams. “Let’s get to work, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Blakely asks, disguising her nerves with bluntness.

“Yes. While Jamie heads off for practice, we are going to prepare lunch for the team and staff. What better way to see what you’re made of?”

“I’d be honoured to get such a fair shot at this. Truly,” Blakely says.

Clyde claps again and then turns to me. “Off you go now, Jamie. I’ll take good care of your wife, I promise.”

“Yeah, you will. Or I’ll make sure that you’re on the menu today,” I threaten.

Blakely reaches for me again before I make the first move. Excitement sparks as she kisses me on the cheek and hovers, whispering, “Thank you, husband.”

My lungs fail, and I’m left waiting when she leaves with Clyde and disappears into the kitchen.

Fuck, I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Water fliesinto the air when I give my hair a shake and adjust the band of my shorts. Chase scowls when some splatters his cheeks.

“Do you have to dry yourself like a dog, Jamie?” he asks, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt.

“I was just double drying. You should try it sometime.”

“I use a towel like a normal person.”

“Your loss,” I sing.

“Do you whip your wife with your hair splatter too, or is that just for us?”

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