Page 39 of Resisting the Running Back

“I’m sorry. You were really intense there.”

“Sometimes the words fly out as if by magic, and I’m writing a really angsty, juicy scene I’ve been waiting for,” she says, and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, she’s in sweats with no makeup on her face, and her brown eyes look twice as large as usual behind her clear-framed glasses.

She’s as beautiful as ever.

“Don’t let me interrupt you,” I say. I grab a protein shake out of the fridge. “Need anything?”

“A break,” she admits. She taps a few keys and closes her laptop lid as she stretches her arms above her head. Her shirt rides up, and I catch a peek of her stomach.

I’m instantly hard.

It’s absolutely ridiculous.

It’s a tiny peek of her skin. It’s not even boob or side-boob. It’s not ass. It’s certainly not pussy. But it’s a peek of something I don’t usually get to see, and I want that shirt to keep going, going, going until it’s off and she’s naked and writhing beneath me right there on the goddamn kitchen table.

I chug my protein shake. “What’s going on in the book?”

“No spoilers!” she protests, and I laugh.

“Not even for me?”

She shakes her head. “No one. Not even my editor.” She opens her laptop again, and she pulls up an email. “I got this invitation to an event in Vegas. I’ve always declined these things since I was keeping my identity hidden, but now that I’m sort of exposed…”

“You’re thinking about it?” I ask.

She nods.

“What kind of event?”

“There are around sixty authors, and we each get a table and can sell our books. All romance, and I’ve heard great things about it,” she says.

“When is it?”

“February of next year,” she says.

“That’s a long way off.”

She nods. “And I think by then I might even get up the nerve to admit the truth to my parents.”

My chest tightens at her words. If she tells her parents the truth, does that mean our fake engagement is off?

Or was she serious when she told her ex that we were getting married?

“I, uh…have a question,” I begin.

She tilts her head at me as if to tell me to go ahead.

“Were you serious about what you told Tyler?”

“About what?” she asks.

“About getting married either right before or right after next season.”

She twists her lips. “I said it in the heat of the moment, and Miller, I couldn’t do that to you. You have your own life to live, and I don’t want to walk in and mess everything up.”

I clear my throat. “What if…uh…” I trail off as I try to figure out how to correctly frame this. “What if there were some advantages in it for me, too?”

“How would it be advantageous for you?” she asks.

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