Page 19 of Falling for the Quarterback
There’s something about this woman that has me falling all over myself, stumbling as I attempt to navigate things with her. I’ve liked her too much from the moment I mether, and it shows. I’ve never been the type of guy to question everything. Especially myself, let alone my worth, where another person is concerned. My mother taught me to answer to myself in the mirror every day, not anyone else. Yet, somehow, Kinsley bypasses everything ingrained in me.
I take in the stunning woman before me; she’s got hot pink framed glasses on, and her hair wrapped up in a bun on top of her head. Pair it with the fresh pink-faced, and flamingo short pajama set she’s got on, and she’s not just beautiful, she’s adorable. However, I don’t think she’d take it the same way as I mean it if I tell her she’s adorable. She’s perfect in the mussed-up bed look. She’s sleepy but still somehow manages to pull off being attractive in the same boat.
My dick is instantly stiff, which is a no-go in these loose-fitting basketball shorts. They have a way of advertising everything going on down south. I usually wear them from the stadium to my house, so it’s not a big deal, but here I am free balling it, and my dick likes what I’m seeing right now. It’s silently begging me to snuggle up next to her in bed and then eat her pussy until she can’t remember her own name anymore.
“I promise this isn’t a booty call,” I start with, as soon as I’m close enough to touch her. Her brows skyrocket, and I immediately try to backtrack. “Not that I’m thinking of booty calls or anything, I just had to put that out there. Of course I want to, but I know it’s too soon and I’m not here to put pressure on you. Jesus, you look so damn cute in the pink frames and pajamas. I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?”
She grins, a quiet laugh leaving her, making my belly flip with the warm-fuzzies that being around her always seems to give me. Fuck, she’s beautiful. I already said that and thought it many times over, but I’m stunned. Caught off guard, I don’t know what I was expecting by coming here unannounced. Maybe my subconscious thought she’d be in bed and I’d be forced to wait until tomorrow or something, but here we are, face to face, and I’m being a goober, rambling on and on.
“Want to come in? You’re not scared of dogs, are you?”
I shake my head. “I mean, yes. Or no. Scratch that,” I release a sigh of frustration. “Yes, I want to come in. No, I’m not afraid of big dogs. Love them, in fact.”
Her smile is wider this time as she reaches for my hand. I tug her with me to the open truck door, reaching in for my wallet and keys. Once I stuff the wallet in my pocket, I shut the door, hit the lock button so the truck beeps and the headlights flash, then she’s opening the privacy fence again. She widens it enough so we can both slide through by turning sideways. She slips a lock in place, then pulls me along.
“Sorry, my dogs are out here. They have to be nosy every time I come outside.”
“That’s good, at least they’re around to help keep you safe,” I murmur and am met with a pleased nod.
One barks, backing up as it takes me in, while the other notices I’m holding on to her mom, and her little nub begins wagging a million miles an hour. Kinsley’s yard is set up with lighting all over the place, so there are no dark corners, and frankly, it’s a relief to know she’s smart about keeping things well-lit and locked while living alone. I wish my mom would listen to me when I try to get her on board like this.
“Nice setup,” I compliment, staring at her garden as we pass by.
She’s a busy woman; the garden alone rivals mine, and I have help maintaining mine. She’s turned this place into her own little slice of heaven, and I like it a lot. Looks like she’s got watermelon and pumpkins growing along her fence lines, and then toward the back, some sort of bushes. Roses, maybe?
“Thanks, come inside so we can sit in the airconditioning.”
The dogs follow us to the door, which Kinsley holds open for them to go inside first. I follow her up the stairs, and I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. The place is beyond charming, and it makes me want to hook it up to my truck. I could drive us around to explore the coastline together and just enjoy the peacefulness of the time alone with her.
“Did you do all this yourself?” I ask instead of offering to take her around the world, gesturing in a circle with my fingers. One day, I’ll breach the subject if she lets me off the hook with what I have to tell her.
Her cheeks tint as a bout of shyness plays over her, but she nods, and I can see the pride shining in her rich chocolate depths. “It was nice when I bought it, but I upgraded a lot of stuff. The fridge is full-sized now; the one before was way too tiny. I’ve painted a lot and added backsplash to the kitchen area and bathroom. The lush rugs are all new, the couch, of course, and a bunch of other stuff. I’m decent at decorating.” She shrugs it off as no big deal.
It’s a big deal to me, and only shows how much more talented she is than she realizes. “Are you kidding? You’ve managed to make this place feel homey and upscale. I’d chill here any day, and my buddies would be jealous. I never would’ve guessed you could fit a TV that big in here either.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “It’s way too girly to be a mancave, sorry. As for the big television, I only watch sports or movies. So, of course, it needed to be larger than average. The rest of the time, I’m more of a music person.”
“No mancave?” My hand flies to my heart, shooting her a wounded look, making her laugh even more. I love the sound of it. And she’s a music person? A woman after my own heart. It seems the more I manage to squirrel out of her, the more I find I like, and we have in common.
Itake a seat and watch as she pops over to the fridge. She grabs a pitcher and then reaches for two glasses, filling them generously before making her way to the couch. She offers me a cup and I can’t stop from taking a sip immediately. The flavor of icy sweetness explodes over my tongue.
“Mm, that’s some good sweet tea. Thank you. I’m sorry I pulled you out of bed. I got to thinking earlier that I wanted to see you. I felt like talking over text wouldn’t be good enough, so here I am.”
She shrugs, “I’m glad you’re here, even if it is late. Good news is, I write books, so I don’t consider myself a morning person. I’m generally a night owl. Besides, I wanted to talk to you, too.”
“That sounds serious,” I reply a bit glumly, worried she’s ready to call things off. Not gonna lie, it would hurt if she did. Maybe I should’ve waited until tomorrow to show up to prolong the break off, if that’s what this is for her tonight.
“I mean, there are a few things we should discuss.” She sips her tea, then sets the cup down on the coffee table.
I do the same and then lean in, grabbing her hand in mine again. I need to touch her in some way. I want her to know she has my complete attention as she continues.
“For starters, I found an article online from the local station.”
My gut drops with fear of what she’s going to say next about my press conference earlier. I wait on baited breath for her to tell me she already knows all about me, and she doesn’t want to see me again. How my fame is too much of a headache to deal with. I wouldn’t blame her; it would suck, but I’d understand why.
“They posted on social media that they’re looking for sources that can provide them with details of what happened at the lumber store. They posted our names in the article, which is bullshit and has to be against some sort of privacy act or something.” She pauses long enough to pull up the post on her tablet, handing the device to me. “Ithreatened to contact my lawyer, so hopefully it scares them enough to take it down.”
“So, they posted my name, no other details?” I clarify, quickly reading the brief article. She nods, not adding anything else to it, which tells me there’s still a possibility of her not knowing who I am and what I do for a living. “Okay. Well, they’re going to talk. Especially when a crime is involved, so no biggie.”
