Page 22 of Resisting the Running Back

She wrinkles her nose. “I thought you’d say, like, scrambled eggs and toast.”

I laugh. “I can do that. And a protein shake.”

“Why all the protein?”

“I just worked out. Replenishing energy.” I head toward the fridge to grab a bottled protein shake, and I take out the eggs while I’m in there.

“Hey, wait a minute. Wasn’t I supposed to be cooking for you?”

I laugh and set the eggs down. I point to them. “I’m pretty good at scrambled eggs, but be my guest if you’d like.”

“I’m actually right in the middle of a pivotal scene. Is it awful if I ask you whether I can finish typing while you cook?”

I laugh. “Not at all. I was planning to make food anyway.”

I chug down my protein shake, and I wonder what our daily routine will look like. I’m quiet as I listen to the rhythmic tapping of her keys, and when it stops, I glance over at her.

She’s staring at my abs.

I pretend like I don’t notice, but then she moves her attention back to her document. I hear the typing stop again, and this time when I look over, she’s staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought for a few seconds before she starts typing again.

It’s a whole process, and I’ve never seen this side of her work. It’s interesting to watch her stop and go, and ten minutes later, breakfast is ready.

She shuts the lid of her laptop as I set her plate beside her, and she grins at me. “This is awesome. Thank you so much.”

I dig into my own plate, and truth be told, itispretty damn awesome.

But I can’t help wondering what she was just writing. Was it another sex scene? Was it from the man’s point of view? Will I jerk off to it in a few months when it’s published and I get to finally read it?

“What do you want to do today?” I ask, shaking those thoughts off.

“Well, I already hit my word count goal, so the rest is just bonus. I guess I could unpack a bit. What about you?” she asks.

“I was thinking I could take you ring shopping.”

She sets her hand on her forehead. “Oh, God, I told those girls that, didn’t I?”

“And your mom,” I remind her.

She laughs. “Right. Look, I’ll chip in some money on it. We don’t have to do anything fancy, just something cheap to—”

I hold up a hand. “If you’re playing the part of my fiancée, you’ll wear a ring my fiancée would wear.”

Her brows rise at that, but she doesn’t challenge my words.

We each shower—separately—and I call Tanner to fill him in on what’s going on before I head downstairs to meet her for our excursion.

“Hey, bro, what’s going on with Sophie, and why did Mom call me asking me if you’re engaged?” he answers.

I blow out a breath. “Because weareengaged.”

“Holy shit. You did it?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, clearly confused.

I glance at the closed door and wonder if she can hear me. Likely not. She’s probably still in the shower, or maybe drying her hair, but I lower my voiceanyway.

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