Page 14 of Hometown Touchdown
That earns me the tiniest smile.
“So what happens to him? Banished? Juiced? Sent to the fruit underworld?”
She giggles and pops it in her mouth like an executioner. “I ate him.”
I gasp. “Ruthless. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
She straightens in her seat, clearly pleased. “I have a good side too.”
“I can tell.” I lower my voice. “Let me guess. Your good side tells jokes and eats dessert before dinner?”
She nods. “And I can do a cartwheel.”
“Impressive. I peaked at somersaults in kindergarten.”
Kate returns just in time to catch the end of our conversation. “Are you recruiting her for a snack-fueled gymnastics cult?”
“Maybe,” I say, sipping my juice. “She passed the blueberry test.”
Evie grins and reaches for another berry, then picks up a crayon and slides it toward me.
“Draw something,” she says.
My heart folds in on itself a little.
Kate raises an eyebrow. “That’s a big deal. She doesn’t share crayons with just anyone.”
I pretend to dab a tear. “Truly honored. I’ve been granted access to the inner circle.”
Evie giggles. A peace offering, simple and quiet, from a child who sees more than she says.
I’m halfway through drawing a tragically bad cat—Evie kindly keeps her critiques to herself—when the bell above the door jingles.
Kate looks up, then freezes. Her eyes flick to me.
I already know.
Something in my stomach coils tight before I even turn. And when I do, I catch sight of Knox walking in.
Knox Dalton looks like sin wrapped in cotton. Six-foot-two, all muscle, his Cedar Falls Football shirt clinging like it was made to honor every inch of him. His jeans sit low, hugging thighs that should be illegal, and his ass—round, firm,rude—is the kind that inspires poor decisions and late-night confessions.
Brown curls peek from under his backwards cap. That scruffy beard of his shadows a jawline sharp enough to draw blood. He looks like a mistake I’d happily make again. Twice. Maybe more.
And then his eyes—warm, dark brown, the kind that know too much and say even more. Paired with that voice of his? Trouble. Always has been.
He doesn’t try to be hot. He just is. Effortless. Exasperating. Every woman within ten miles has probably imagined that t-shirt on her floor. I hate that I’m still one of them.
My traitorous heart stutters when his eyes land on me. For a second, neither of us moves. Then he nods. Not unfriendly. Just…controlled. That same damn nod he gave me at the game and at Gordy’s. Cool. Distant. Fine.
Cam, meanwhile, lights up. “Brynn!” He heads straight over. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I stand and hug him. “Hey, Cam. Are you keeping Knox in line?”
“Trying. It’s a full-time job.”
I glance at Knox. He hasn’t moved. Just standing there, jaw tight, arms crossed.
Kate clears her throat. “Cam, want to sit?”
