Page 58 of Delay of Game
“You, little lady, were on the TV last night. They showed you in your box seat.”
“Seriously?” I asked, opening the fridge and searching for breakfast food. What the hell did NFL linebackers eat, anyway? I pulled out a carton of eggs and a block of cheese. “Why?”
“You were next to the quarterback’s girlfriend.”
“Cassie?”
“Oh, you’re on a first name basis with Diego Salazar’s girlfriend? Fancy.”
“She’s really nice. She and Mila showed me the ropes.” I raided the pantry and found a can of Spam that hadn’t expired, but I certainly hadn’t purchased.
“Showed you the ropes? So, you’ll be attending more games?”
I worried my bottom lip. “Um, I’m not sure, actually. Maybe.”
Sure, the invitation hadn’t come from Rob, but whatever unnamed thing was happening between Rob and me felt right. I just didn’t want to jinx it.
“He’s sleeping at your house, Gracie. He’s clearly smitten.”
“He’s exhausted.” I tamped down the soft swell of optimism. I doubted anyone had used the word “smitten” and Rob in the same sentence. But there was something between us. Something new and unsteady and exciting. Something I didn’t dare upset by naming it. “He came over to help with more house stuff.”
“Sure he did.” I could sense Lily’s eye roll from her tone. “He played a grueling game of football and then just waltzed over to your place with the sole purpose of doing some home repairs. That makes perfect sense.”
“His mom?—”
“You don’t need to pull out the ‘mom’ card on me. I know what’s going on…mingling.”
My cheeks burned at the insinuation, and my eyes flew back to the closed kitchen door. I lowered my voice. “I’m hanging up now and making breakfast. Thanks for letting me know about my TV debut.”
“You looked so cute, wearing his jersey and all. No wonder he ended up at your place!”
I hung up the phone, but the smile from the conversation stayed on my face as I cracked eggs into a bowl and dug out my toaster from under the cabinets. For a few moments, I let myself live in Lily’s optimism, in the belief that Rob might walk through that door and tell me he wanted to take me out. Date me. Be with me.
And then I tamped it back down again. As much as I liked Rob and thought he liked me, something had changed since having Mila. And I wasn’t naïve enough to think that a hand job in the pottery studio and a night on the couch would change Robinto a brand-new person who wanted a girlfriend. But, with time and patience, we might get there.
By the time I had the Spam frying, he wandered into the kitchen.
He rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I smiled as I pulled the meat off the pan and poured in the eggs. “Are you hungry? I made breakfast.”
He nodded, hovering at the threshold.
“Do you want to start the coffee? It has a grinder, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
He nodded again, walking across the room to the coffeemaker. He paused behind me, and I could almost feel the heat of his hand hovering behind the small of my back. But in a breath, he kept walking.
“Sorry about last night,” he muttered as he pulled out the carafe and filled it with water.
I ignored the apology. “Did you sleep okay?”
His eyes skittered toward mine and then back to the carafe again. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
“How about you?”
I rolled my shoulders. “Fine.”
