Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t see it. Yes, you should love someone for more than their looks, but are they really being honest about who they are? And what about attraction? You can care about someone deeply but not be attracted to them.”
She shrugs, a huge smile lighting up her face. “I guess we should start season one and see for ourselves. What do you say, Coach? Are you in?”
She’s different here. More relaxed, more herself, and I love it.
“Give me that,” I say. Reaching over, I take the remote from her hand, and she chuckles as I hit Play.
“Oh, we should turn out the lights. There’s always a glare. I keep saying I’m going to rearrange the furniture, but I just turn out the lights once Mia goes down anyway. Do you mind?”
Do I mind sitting next to you in the dark? “No, I don’t mind,” I say, my voice raspy.
She hands me her glass of wine, tosses the cover off her lap, which ends up on my thigh, and bounces across the room to turn out the light. When she makes her way back to the couch, she sits down, but this time she’s closer. I wait for her to cover up before handing her the glass of wine.
We make it through the first two episodes, and I hit Pause. “Well?”
“They’re really just talking to a wall,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “And they’re supposed to find true love? I’m not sure,” she says, finishing off her wine. “You want something else to drink? Popcorn?”
“I’m good. Here.” I take the glass from her. “I’ll get you a refill.” Standing, I move to the kitchen and pour her another glass of wine. It’s her third glass of the night, and she’s definitely relaxed.
“I don’t know about this, but there are so many seasons. Maybe we’re just not to the good parts yet,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Maybe,” I say, walking back to the living room. I hand over the glass of wine. I could use this as an opportunity to move to a different seat, but nope, I plop my ass back on the couch, where she’s sitting on the middle cushion, and she leans into me.
“I think it’s all fake,” she whispers, then quickly covers her mouth as if she’s doing something wrong.
“You’re probably right, but who knows, crazier things have happened,” I tell her.
“Okay, we need to see more to make a full determination.” She nods toward the TV, snuggles under the blanket, and I hit Play.
Not fifteen minutes in, her head lands on my shoulder. I take her wine, and she mumbles, “Thank you,” as she snuggles closer to me. She wraps her hands around my arm and uses me as a pillow. Unable to help myself, I place my hand over her legs, but I don’t take things further than that. Instead, I keep my eyes on the screen and enjoy the moment.
I’ve never been one for lots of random hookups. There have been women in my life since my divorce, but they were all casual—something we both agreed on. Tonight, sitting here with Amanda, it doesn’t feel casual. It feels big and overwhelming and forbidden.
So damn forbidden, that I know it’s a risk.
As a coach, I’ve told my players many times that you have to risk the play sometimes to move forward. This, sitting here with her like this, is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken. I know what’s on the line, yet here I sit, my arm draped over her lap, while she snuggles up to me. I know it’s the wine, but I still don’t stop it.
I need to stop this.
I can’t think about her this way.
I can’t crave her time and attention.
I can’t wonder if her lips are as soft as they look.
I have to stop, and I will. After tonight.
By the time this episode ends, Amanda is sound asleep. I battle with watching more—not that I’m really paying any attention—or leaving, but I can’t just leave her down here like this. So, I turn off the television and carefully pull her onto my lap before standing with her in my arms and carrying her upstairs. She snuggles her head into my neck. She doesn’t fight me. Instead, she settles her body against mine, perfectly comfortable in my arms.
She fits perfectly.
Shoving those thoughts out of my mind, I peek into the first room and immediately know that it’s Mia’s. Turning to my right, I push open the door. With the glow of the moonlight shining through the blinds, I place her on the bed. I manage to help her under the covers, without waking her.
I stare down at her for far longer than I should. Finally, I know I need to make myself leave. Bending, I place a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet Mandy,” I breathe. When I go to move, she reaches out and grabs me.