Page 13 of Falling for the Quarterback
We get in line, glancing over the menu and topping options, then order our food, and I pay. She doesn’t offer to half the bill or any of that nonsense, and it only solidifies another reason why I enjoy dating older women. They don’t try to fight me on something as small as paying for our meal. I feel like they appreciate a man who can provide for them a little more than showing me they can be independent. Not that I don’t respect a woman who can take care of herself, I absolutely do. I admire it in fact, but it’s frustrating when I ask a woman out, planning on treating her to whatever we’re doing, and it turns into bickering back and forth. It’s an instant turn-off, and I typically don’t request a follow-up date.
We end up sitting at a picnic table outside, the area lit up under small Edison bulb-style outdoor lights, and I think it’s pretty great. I hope she does too. It’s warm, but not sweltering, since the sun has gone down and the nights around here are starting to get a little darker earlier, unlike the beginning of summer.
“You sure this is okay? We can go back inside if it’s too hot.” I’m used to it, but I understand many others aren’t, and her comfort is important to me. I feel like she’s given me a chance, and she’s not the type to generally offer one, so it’s special.
“Normally, I’d be all for the cool air, but the breeze tonight is literally making this the perfect weather to eat outside in. The mosquitoes are even leaving me alone so far, which is a miracle.”
We eat our food straight out of the pizza box, with napkins in hand, and it takes everything in me not to simply stare at her. I was instantly attracted to her in the hardware store. Her grumpy black cat personality was the extra kicker drawing me to her, because it was so refreshing that she wasn’t instantly trying to jump on my dick due to my fame. I rarely find someone who doesn’t know who I am, or if they do, they don’t truly care about it. I’m not trying to be sneaky with heror anything, but it’s one reason why I chose this place and wanted to sit outside, so I can simply spend time with her and not have to deal with fans and the million questions that come from them when they realize I’m me.
She groans, declaring, “I swear I could eat this every week.”
“Yeah? Let’s make it a date then.”
My nutritionist won’t be thrilled, but I’ll figure it out. It’s not like all I eat is my meal plan. I have a cheat meal every once in a while. It’s all about moderation, and once a week with Kinsley isn’t something I’m going to stress over. In fact, it’s the opposite; once a week with her isn’t going to be nearly enough.
“Every single week?” Her brows are almost in her hairline as she stares at me like she thinks I’m kidding.
I’m not.
I nod, having already fallen under her spell. I’m a goner for her, and I was right in my earlier guess that I wouldn’t want to leave her tonight once I got a chance to be around her more. “Yep, but we also have to come up with someplace new to try each week, too.”
“Two dates, every single week, hmm? You seem confident.”
I nod again, probably looking like a douche from the outside with how many times I move my head, but I don’t care. My smile’s wide, as my heart pounds a little too fast in my chest. I’ve just gotten started with this woman, yet it seems like I’ve known her much longer, and I can’t seem to get enough. Nor do I want to, and I pride myself on thinking rationally. Hell, I have to in my position, or I will literally get creamed by the opposing team.
“You seem to think you’re going to be spending a lot of time with me.” She points out and then shrugs, “Maybe.Ifyou’re lucky.”
I laugh because she has no idea I’m one of the luckiest guys in pro football, and now in life, having her come into my path. As for thechallenge she’s unknowingly throwing down, Game on. I’m one of the most intense competitors out there; I have been for most of my life. The fact she keeps calling me out and charming me with her dry humor makes this entire evening feel like we’ve been flirting and smiling nonstop. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself with a woman this much.
An older couple passes by, and the man does a double-take the moment he notices me. I quickly duck my head, hoping to hide my face enough he doesn’t recognize me and make a big deal over me being here. Kinsley must believe it’s because of what she said because in the next moment, she reaches for me, laying her hand on mine. She squeezes it affectionately.
“I didn’t mean for that to come out rude; I was teasing.”
“I hope so, because I plan on seeing you every chance you’ll allow it.”
A laugh escapes her, and she squeezes my hand once more before letting go. Her touch has everything inside me standing up and taking notice, wishing she’d run those hands all over my body. I have a feeling things would be explosive between us in the bedroom, and once my mind heads in that direction, I can’t seem to shake it off. Every time she laughs or shifts a certain way, her breasts bounce, they’re full, and look like they’ll almost fill my big, quarterback-sized hands. God, I want to touch her badly. I need us to be on a third date already, so it wouldn’t seem strange for me to lean in and kiss her every time I feel like it. Maybe even make it to second, or third base without being too pushy. I was never good at baseball, but I know how to touch a woman to bring her pleasure.
We’re interrupted by the husband I caught looking at me a moment before. “Hey, JJ! Mind if I get you to sign this, hero?”
He obviously saw the article somewhere in the news or on a social media post. I swear, doing a random good deed to others is going to end up haunting me forever at this rate. “Of course.” I quicklyscribble my signature, saying, “First date, trying to make a good impression.”
Thankfully, he takes the hint and doesn’t ask for a picture or anything else to give away my profession. He offers Kinsley a friendly smile and nod, then walks toward the door where his wife is waiting. I’m sweating bullets over here, grateful he didn’t have the nerve to ask Kinsley if she’s the one from the article. I assume that wouldn’t go over well, and this would end up being our last date.
“Do you know that guy?” she asks.
This is the perfect opportunity to come clean about who I am and what I do, but instead, I keep it to myself. I don’t know why. Perhaps, because I’m enjoying having her treat me like a normal person a little too much to ruin it this soon.
Shaking my head, I say, “Credit card receipt. Guess it didn’t work on their screen.” The lie has my gut twisting, instantly putting a bad taste in my mouth, but I ignore it, chasing it down with a drink of my sweet tea. She’ll find out eventually, hopefully by then I’ll know if she’s for me or not. Right now, I’m leaning toward the keep her forever side. Taking the last bite of my pizza, I swallow it and ask, “Tell me about these dogs you had to run off to take care of.”
Her eyes light up, sparkling with warmth. “Oh, you’ve done it now. I hope you’re ready to hear all about my precious baby dogs.”
“Baby dogs? You have puppies?”
She grins, shaking her head. “No, but I have Dobermans and that’s pretty much the same thing.”
Yep, my new woman is a badass. I knew it already, and she just keeps proving me right.
Later, we’re walking back to my truck, holding hands, when she lifts mine and gives the blue plastic band around my wrist a little tug. “Tell me about this,” she sweetly demands, and I open the truck door, helping her inside.
