Page 62 of Resisting the Running Back

The two women get to chatting about the best clubs in town, and I glance over at Asher.

“How’ve you been?” I ask. Of the six of Eddie Nash’s children, Asher was definitely the closest to the man.

“Pretty good. My mom’s been in town, which has been great since it means another babysitter nearby. We’ve been traveling a bit this offseason, but it feels like it’s going fast. Too fast. You know?”

I nod. We’re only a month out from the draft, and that’s sort of the kickoff of the next season. A few weeks later, organized team activities begin, and then minicamps will start, and then we’ll be at training camp before we know it.

We chat about football and what we’re looking forward to about the upcoming season, and then our food arrives. By the time we’re done, Sophie has agreed to head to their place to ransack Desi’s closet for a club dress to wear tonight, and Asher has agreed to loan me something to wear as well…though I’ve seen Asher’s clothing choices, and I’m not sure I want to go through his closet.

“I promise, I have shirts that are more your style,” he assures me, and I laugh and shake my head as my eyes fall back to the western cat. “Though I can’t guarantee my pants will fit over your quads.”

We head toward their house with Desi and Sophie in the backseat, chatting away about books.

“I’m in a spicy book club with my best friends, and one of Asher’s teammates owns a bookstore with his wife, Victoria,” she says.

“Ooh, what spicy books do you like to read?” Sophie asks.

“All. The spicier, the better. Last week we did this hot doctor romance that was amazing.” She names off a few other authors and books, and then she says, “And last month we read the new one by Summer Love calledSecond Chances.”

Sophie gasps, and my ears perk up as I eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Have you heard of it?” Desi asks her.

“Uh, yeah,” Sophie says. “What did you think of it?”

I brace myself for the answer. It’s brave of her to ask. What if she didn’t like it? And why am I bracing myself? It’s not likeIwrote the damn book.

“The spice was—” Desi kisses her fingertips. “Chef’s kiss. She’s become one of my favorite authors, actually. I keep telling Victoria to get her into the bookstore for a signing, but Victoria said this author doesn’t make appearances.”

“She didn’t,” Sophie says. “She was a high school teacher and didn’t want her identity getting out. But she’s not teaching anymore, so maybe if your friend reaches out to ask again, she’d say yes.”

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” Desi asks. “So you know of her?”

Sophie clears her throat. “I do.” I wait for it because I have a feeling she’s ready to let the world know, and then she does it. “Actually, this is the really crazy thing, and, God, it’s such a small, small world. I’m actually, um…well, I’m Summer Love.”

My chest tightens for her as she reveals her identity for the first time.

Desi gasps. “What?”

I hear a zip, and when I glance back, I see Sophie handing Desi a business card.

“Tell Victoria to get in touch. I’d love to visit her bookstore.”

“Oh. My. God!” Desi yells, punctuating each word. “I can’t believe I just had lunch withSummer Love! You’re a freaking rock star! Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Victoria! I can tell her, right? Are you still keeping a secret?”

Sophie clears her throat. I know she still doesn’t want word getting back to her parents. It’s part of the reason why we’re getting married, after all.

But I also want this for her. She deserves the recognition for the incredible accomplishments she’s made, and if I can help with that in any way, I’d love to.

“You can tell her,” Sophie says.

I let out a tiny sigh of relief as I realize how Sophie just fits like a puzzle piece into yet another part of my life. She has her own identity, but she’s able to slide right in as if she were always a part of things. Because she is. She always has been. She’s a part of me, and I’m a part of her.

Now if I could just figure out how to admit the whole truth to her, maybe we really could have it all.

CHAPTER 27: Miller Banks

How the Hell am I Supposed to Pay Attention

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