Page 46 of Playing for Keeps
I glance at her.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “What? Are you suggesting I should’ve said yes?”
“Absolutely not. I’m just trying to figure out when I’d stand a chance.” I flash her a grin. “Guess I’ll have to wait until you’re not officially my realtor anymore.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Wyatt. Stop teasing me.”
“Who says I’m teasing?”
I know I’m walking a fine line, especially when I vowed to keep my feelings in check, but maybe I’m planting the beginnings of something that could make her see me differently the more time we spend together. I hope so.
“Iknowyou’re teasing,” she says, waving me off. “You’re as bad as Ash.”
I chuckle. “If you say so.”
We finish the journey in a comfortable silence, and when I park in the underground parking garage, I kill the engine and climb out, stretching my aching legs and back. The Ferrari’s comfortable for my six-foot-two frame on short journeys, but it’s not great for a long drive. I only brought it home because I knew Ivy loved it. I think I’ll take something more comfortable back.
“You okay?” Ivy asks as she rounds the hood, seeing me stretching.
“Yep, just a bit achy after the drive.”
“Sounds like you could use a massage.”
“You offering?” I tease.
A blush creeps across her cheeks. “I—uh… that’s not what I meant…”
I laugh. “Take it easy, Ivy. I’m just teasing.”
She shoots me a playful glare. “You’ve been full of jokes today, Wyatt Brookes. Don’t forget, I’m doing you a favor here.”
I grin. “And I’m eternally grateful. Come on. Let’s head inside.”
I grab our bags, along with Ivy’s dress, and head toward the elevator.
“You sure you’re good with my bag?” Ivy calls after me. “I’m taking the stairs. Came prepared this time,” she adds, lifting her sneakered foot with a grin.
“Not happening,” I say, shifting everything into one arm and reaching out to take her hand with the other. “If you’re going to be showing my place to potential buyers, you can’t avoid the elevator forever. We’re starting your practice run this weekend.”
“Practice?” She scrunches her nose skeptically.
“Yep.” I give her hand a squeeze. “I don’t want to be worrying about you every time you’re here on your own.”
Not that I won’t still worry.
“You do realize I’ll just take the stairs when you’re not around?” she teases.
I lean closer, my voice low. “Then I guess I’ll just have to be here for every viewing.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Every single one?”
I flash her a grin. “Why not? I’ve got time. Off-season means no games, no travel. Lucky for you.”
She groans. “Shouldn’t you be off on some luxury vacation or something? Isn’t that what NFL guys do during the break?”
I laugh. “Only the ones who like their faces plastered all over every magazine.”
“Not your thing, then?”
