Page 80 of Keeper
Our eyes met and her face brightened with a sparkling smile. It seemed like all her worries had left her in an instant.
“You have such a nice smile,” I said. I ran the tip of my finger over her pretty mouth. “I love to see it.”
“Good,” she whispered, “because youmake me smile.”
Steadying her jaw, I leaned in. But before our lips could touch, she stopped me. A sliver of sadness still lingered in her voice. “You’re so nice to me, Tanner.”
“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“I feel like I met you at the lowest point of my life,” she said, bowing her head.
I lifted her chin. “That’s how I felt when I met you, too.”
She shrugged. “You were in a slump. It happens.”
“And you’ve got a couple of toxic people in your life. That happens, too.” I held her hand. “You’ll get through it, though, I promise.”
Her smile returned. “Thank you,” she said softly.
I leaned in again. This time, she didn’t pull away; instead, her sweet lips waited for my embrace. Our mouths met and, on a sleepy Sunday afternoon, everything finally seemed right with the world. The only sound in my condo was the gentlesmackof tender kisses and the steady rise-and-fall of Cujo’s sleepy breaths.
Speaking of sleepy?
I broke off our kiss and covered my mouth, hiding a long and tired yawn.
“Oh nooo,” she joked. “Is kissing me really that boring?”
“No, it’s not you,” I reassured her, even though I knew she wasn’t serious. “But it is almost time for my pre-game nap.”
She cocked her head at me. “Pre-game? But I thought you said you have the day off?”
“I do have the day off,” I said. “But guys like me are creatures of habit.”
“So pro athletes take mid-day naps like babies? Aw, that’s cute.”
I laughed. “Yep.”
“Well, I’ll let you nap, then.” She looked at the front door. “Maybe I should leave?”
“No. Don’t go.” I clasped my hand on her thigh. “After last time, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“You’re sweet, Tanner.” She smiled and patted me on the cheek. “But you don’t have to worry. I won’t run off on you again.”
“Good.”
“So what should I do while you nap?” she asked innocently, turning her attention to Cujo. “Keep Mr. Cujo company?”
“You could do that,” I said. Glancing in the direction of my bedroom, I lowered my voice. “Or … you could keep mecompany.”
Her knowing eyes narrowed with interest. “Isthatpart of your pre-game routine, too?”
“No, actually. Coach says it makes the legs weak.”
She laughed. “Does he, now?”
“He does.”
“I guess you’re lucky since it’s an off-day,” she flirted.
