Page 55 of Catching Feelings

She puts one hand on the door and stops. I look around her and spot the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat. “I don’t want to squish your flowers.”

“They’re not mine, they’re for you. When I saw you at the front door of your building I kind of forgot to grab them.” I reach around her and catch a whiff of her vanilla-carrot cake scent. So delicious.

“Forgot?” She smiles up at me when I hand her the flowers. “Thank you.”

“I was partly distracted and annoyed that you were already down here and partly distracted because you look beautiful tonight. But you always do.”

I keep my tone light so I don’t totally freak her out. After the kiss last night, I could feel her body go limp when I ended our way too fucking short and sweet kiss. Even so, I don’t have a good read on her yet.

Is she being all sweet and cute with me because that’s who Rowan is with everyone? I don’t like the twinge of jealousy I feel inside at that thought.

Or is she starting to look at me as someone more than her friend’s husband’s teammate? Fuck, that’s a mouthful. And the only mouthful I want right now is Rowan. Her lips and tongue. Her beautiful tits. Her full, round ass. What I can only imagine as the sweetest, ripest, wettest pussy.

Damn. I shift my feet, hoping my boner doesn’t poke through my jeans.

“Thank you.” She shifts as well. Maybe she’s got a girl boner she’s gotta ward off.

The hell is a girl boner? Damn my ADHD and the thirteen-year-old thoughts that have yet to mature.

Once she’s buckled up, I mentally smack myself as I round the hood of my SUV. Rowan’s good at keeping conversation going and we talk about dumb stuff—my favorite topic, after sex and food—until we reach the restaurant parking lot.

“A coma’s the way to go,” she argues as I hold the door open for her.

“No way. Five years in prison, over ten years in a coma.” My aunt and sister would never be able to handle watching me waste away in a coma. “You’re one hundred percent wrong on this one, Doc.” Would you rather is my favorite game, and only a select few in my world have an appreciation for the ridiculous questions. That Rowan is a fan and can hold her own only turns me on.

And I don’t need help in that department when it comes to Row. Everything about her turns me on, which is becoming a problem. An obsession. And I’m not mad about it.

“Table for two?” the hostess asks, and only then does Rowan realize where we are.

“Wait. I thought we were going to my favorite pizza place.”

“Two.” I nod and place my hand on Rowan’s back as we follow the hostess through the Italian restaurant. I heard about it from Kendall and Potato. Or rather, I overheard them talking about this hole-in-the-wall place that Nash takes Paisley Pickles to, and now it’s become their family favorite.

I love that Rowan was so distracted by our Would You Rather game that she didn’t realize we weren’t going to pizza.

When we’re seated and the hostess leaves with our drink order, Rowan leans across the table.

“You promised you’d try the Brussels sprouts pizza.”

“Darn.” I snap my fingers. “I forgot about that. I guess we’ll have to go out again.” I pick up my menu to hide my grin.

“Well played, Bucky.” The nickname is adorable coming from Pickles, but I’d rather have Rowan scream outMilesin the throes of passion. We’ll get there.

If I’m doing my job well, she’ll be so overwhelmed she’ll forget how to speak. But that’ll have to happen another day. I’m still in the wooing stages, whatever the hell that means.

Women like me because I like them. The flirting, the innuendos, the blatant come-ons. It’s fun. I’m flattered and I love flattering women right back. It’s second nature to me and doesn’t always mean anything other than a fun time, which doesn’t always mean sex either.

I can be all talk, but I’m good at follow-through when the person, time, and place is suitable. I’ve never done the dark kink before but—

“Kendall talks about this place all the time. She said the gnocchi is amazing.”

“Order whatever you’d like.” Our waitress comes over with our waters and an iced tea for Rowan. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine or something stronger? Maybe a shot of whiskey in your tea?”

“I’m good, thank you. I don’t normally drink on a work night unless we’re watching your game.”

Damn. I like the sound ofyour gameon her lips. Even if she’s there to cheer on Bankes and Hump, I like that she bends her rules for football. For my team. Maybe eventually forme.

“Are you ready to order?” Our waitress asks.

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