Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Yep. Yes,” I say again, flustered. “Clean up. Got it.”
Her laughter trails behind her as she leaves the room, and then it’s just us. The sudden quiet feels louder than the noise ever did. I start to pull away, bracing my hands against the floor to stand, but Foster’s grip tightens, steady and sure.
“Not yet,” he breathes, his voice low against my ear.
And just like that, I melt back into him. There’s no resisting it—not with the way I’m falling for him, not with his arms strong around me, solid and warm, holding me like this is the safest place in the world. If he asked me to stay right here on the floor with him, I would. For hours. Maybe forever.
I shut down that line of thinking, close my eyes, and focus on breathing evenly. Somewhere in the distance, a door closes, and the last thing I want to do is pull away from him, but I also don’t want someone walking back into the rec room to see us cuddled up on the floor like this. They’d kick us both out, telling us never to return.
Okay, that might be a little dramatic, but still, it’s bad enough Macie saw. I think the kids assumed it was just the aftermath of the game, but Macie knew it was something altogether different.
“We should go,” I tell him.
“Yeah.” He sighs. Lifting his head, he presses his lips to my temple before climbing to his feet with ease and offering me his hand.
There’s a tremor in my hand that I can’t quite control as I slide my palm into his and let him pull me to my feet. “Thanks,” I murmur, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
His hand settles at the small of my back, warm and steady, as if it belongs there. “You’re welcome,” he says, shifting slightly, and I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye, my pulse jumping for reasons I refuse to examine too closely.
“You good?” I ask, trying to sound casual, when we both know I’m being anything but.
He chuckles, low and easy. “Yeah, babe, I’m good. You ready to head home?”
Home.
The word lands heavier than it should, pulling my thoughts somewhere dangerous. Somewhere warm and imagined, where home isn’t just a place but a life we share. The thought sends my heart into a quicker rhythm, and suddenly, breathing feels like something I have to remember to do.
Danger.
I can’t do this to myself. I’ve gone twenty-five years without an attachment to a man, and I decide that this one, the one with a high-profile career, a massive condo, and a smile that sets me at ease, is the one my heart latches on to.
He’s not a bad choice, just not the right one for me. He’s already told me about the love of his life that he lost, and he’s gone this long without looking for love. I know that I’m only setting myself up for heartbreak. If only my head and my heart had gotten the same memo.
Do not fall for Foster Vaughn.
Yeah, that ship has sailed.
“Eden?”
“Sorry.” I shake out of my thoughts. “Yes, let’s head home. We need to go say goodbye to everyone,” I remind him. That’s something we’re both sticklers about. These kids have been abandoned and left behind, just like we were as kids. It’s important to say those goodbyes and the see ya soons. If anyone understands that, it’s Foster and me.
Foster leads us to the dining room, his hand still pressing against my lower back. We say our goodbyes and promise to visit again soon before making our way outside. As he always does, Foster opens my door for me and waits for me to be buckled in before he closes it.
What would it feel like to have this kind of protection? No, not protection, but courtesy. To have someone in my life to worry about me and my well-being? Someone other than my best friend?
“Hungry?” he asks, once he’s settled behind the wheel.
“Yes, and we’re grabbing tacos,” I tell him, and he laughs.
“Well, all right, then. The lady wants tacos. She shall get tacos. Are you thinking drive-thru Mexican, sit-down Mexican, or a taco truck that’s always set up near the stadium? What are you feeling like?”
“I’m thinking the taco truck.” I grin. “Unless you’re worried about being noticed?”
“Got it.” Turning on his signal, he pulls out of the lot and heads toward the stadium. “Nah, for the most part, people leave us be. Besides, I’ll pull my hat down over my eyes, and maybe we’ll get lucky, and I won’t get noticed. I can just be a man, having dinner with a pretty lady.”
I nod, ignoring the butterflies taking flight at him referring to me as pretty. “Do you have to report at all during the offseason?” I ask him, changing the subject to something safer. Something that won’t make me think about his hands all over my body. I just hope it works.