Page 41 of Defending her Heart

More reminders. Have a wonderful weekend.

It takes me a moment to figure out his coded message, then heat fills my face. I drank a strawberry daiquiri that Riley ordered for me before Nash kissed me.

I’m too flustered to respond, which is unlike me—thanks for the advice, Rowan—and don’t send a thank you text. I haven’t thanked him for any of the gifts. My weekend is busy with errands for Mom and my sister, and on Sunday, Rowan picks me up for the Revs game. Riley’s hitching a ride with Jackson and Taylor and we meet her at the friends and family gate an hour before the game starts.

Riley likes to watch Walker warm up, and it’s not painful for the rest of us watching fifty plus guys in tight pants get limber. She runs down as close as she can get to the field and Walker spots her instantly, hustling over to the stands and leaping up to give her a kiss.

There are hundreds of other fans as eager as we are to stare at all the beautiful bodies, and a collectiveawwfills the stands nearby.

“Get a room, you two,” I yell. “Seriously, you just saw each other two hours ago.”

Rowan covers my mouth with her palm. “You two are an inspiration to romantics. Keep at it, Walker!”

I pretend to be focused on my friend and her handsome husband, but I sneak a peek to the right and find Nash glaring at me. It’s probably because I haven’t called to thank him for the gifts he’s been spoiling me with. But they’re apology gifts. He’s buying my forgiveness. I don’thaveto say anything to him.

After Friday’s fruit bouquet, I reached out to Rowan and asked for her opinion. She said it would be nice to at least acknowledge receipt of his gifts, but I’ve been chickening out. To be fair, I spent most of Saturday at the walk-in clinic because my sister wasn’t feeling well. She’s unable to communicateeffectively what’s wrong, so it managed to take up most of my day.

All we got out of her was that her head hurt and she was tired and wanted to go home. When she’s sick, it’s hard for her to function, and she reverts back to her toddler ways. There was lots of crying, lots of comforting, and she didn’t want me out of her sight.

I planned on skipping tonight’s game, especially since it’s a late game and won’t be over until elevenish, and it’ll be closer to midnight before I get home. With an early morning meeting—my favorite way to start the work week...not—I told Rowan I may leave before the fourth quarter starts. Since her shift starts at nine, she’s on board with bailing early.

I bring my water bottle to my lips and peer over it in Nash’s direction. He’s still staring my way, and from the looks of it, he’s not happy.

Good. I’ve been less than happy dealing with my yo-yoing feelings toward him. And by feelings, I mean pure, unadulterated lust. Nothing more. I don’t know Nash well enough to feel anything beyond carnal lust.

Just because he’s an amazing father and his daughter lights up like a freaking Christmas tree when she sees him, and maybe he gives the best ass-kissing gifts. And who cares that he’s close with his parents and would rather stay in and have family time than go out and party? I still don'tknowhim.

What music he listens to or the kind of movies he watches. What his favorite food is or if he has any allergies. I know nothing of importance.

When the game finally starts, Nash doesn’t ever look up here again. Walker gives Riley a wave at halftime when he jogs off the field, but Nash doesn’t even bother turning our way. Not that I mind the view.

I’ve mentioned his fabulous ass, right?

When we’re up by two touchdowns and there’s ten minutes left in the game, Rowan and I peace out.

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Rowan asks once she pulls out of the lot.

“What?”

“Nash Humphries is what.”

“I didn’t even talk to him.”

“Exactly.”

“What, am I supposed to call out his name like a star-crossed lover? Bend myself over the railing and beg him to come fuck me from behind?”

Oh. Wow. Now I can’t get that image out of my head. Not that I want him to bang me in front of thousands of people. But bending me over and railing me from behind? Um. Yeah.

“He stared at you. No.” She shakes her head. “Heglaredat you for a solid five minutes before the game, and then never looked your way again.”

So she noticed that too. Great. Maybe the cameraman put that up on the jumbotron with the caption,Bitchy slut pisses off sexy defensive end by blowing him off after he sends her daily thoughtful gifts.

“Let me guess.” Rowan sighs. “You still haven’t thanked him or acknowledged the gifts.”

“It’s getting embarrassing. I’m the talk of every staff member during lunch break. They’re speculating that I have a secret lover. On Friday, Abby joked that he must be married, which is why I’m being so close-mouthed about his identity.”

“I’m sorry, Ken.” She reaches over and squeezes my arm.

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