“You make me want to smack you,” she confessed.
Progress just flew right out the window, damn it.
“You ready to go?” he asked grimly, already sliding out of the booth.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Grabbing her purse and coat, she followed after him, which was answer enough.
Disappointment crashed through him, and he pushed it back. They exited the restaurant without a word to each other, though he waved at the owner, who stood behind the cash register with his wife, the both of them enthusiastically encouraging him to come back soon.
Yeah, he doubted he would, unless he had Willow by his side. She’d tainted the place. His thoughts were tainted. Maybe he was being dramatic, but damn. The woman flat out wrecked him. His expectations had been way too high, and now he was dealing with the crash and burn.
It hurt.
He had a good life. Grew up in a small town with a good family. Life was simple. Uncomplicated. He’d played peewee football league and morphed into a decent player come junior high. By high school, he’d been amazing. Fast as hell and could catch a ball like no other. He knew some of it was dumb luck, part skill, and just part hey I want it, I’m gonna get it that led to his progression into the NFL.
That’s how it had always been for him. He wanted something, he went after it, and he got it. Easy.
Willow Cavanaugh was not easy. He thought she would be; he knew she still wanted him. But for whatever dumb as hell reason, she pushed him away. Constantly. Pretty much told him she wanted nothing to do with him. For months, they’d played this game.
And up until now, he’d liked the game he was playing with Willow. Deep down inside, he wanted more though. What they could be as a real couple didn’t feel like a game anymore. It was life. His life—and he wanted her in it.
No matter what it took.
There was no way in hell he was quitting his pursuit of Willow. He was just sick of the fight. Sick of the game.
Oh, he’d keep up the date pretense just to make her suffer. He’d rein it in though. Not lay on the charm so thick.
Hell. He didn’t know what to do.
But no more laying his feelings on the line, no more sweet-talking words and cocky assuredness on display. She didn’t want him, and she’d more than made that clear.
If she wanted a battle, he could give her one. He’d won plenty of wars in his past.
He remained silent the entire drive, and the moment he pulled up in front of her house, her hand was on the door, her body poised and ready to spring from the car. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from exiting.
She glanced over her shoulder, her irritation clear. “What?”
“Local game on Sunday, but if we win, I’ll most likely be going out of town for the next one. I’m hoping we can fit our second date in Monday or Tuesday night. Preferably Monday.” Her arm was slender. He could wrap his fingers completely around it, which made him feel like some sort of he-man.
“What if I have plans Monday?” Her voice was like ice. He knew she was mad at him.
Well, good. He was mad at her, too, since he was never one to hide his feelings. More than half the reason he got into messes like this.
“Cancel ‘em.” No more Mister Nice Guy. He could be as much of an asshole as he needed to be.
She pressed her lips together and gave a little tug, but he didn’t let her go. “Fine. Text me Monday morning and let me know what the plan is for our next date.”
“Will do.” He loosened his grip on her but still didn’t let go. Even through the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt, he could feel her. Soft, fragrant skin, arms he’d like to loop around his neck when he pulled her into his lap, so he could cradle her and kiss her until the both of them were moaning and begging each other for more.
Fuck it. Taking a deep breath, he pulled her into him and kissed her, pressing his mouth to hers. Her lips were unyielding, her body tense, and when he broke the kiss first, she cracked open her eyes, glaring as if she wanted to murder him where he sat.
&nb
sp; “What the hell was that?” she whispered harshly.
“A kiss, not that you seemed too into it. You’re making me insane, woman. I’m tired of it. You wanna go, let’s go.” He kissed her again, just to piss her off. She struggled against him, pulling away so she could stare at him.
“What do you mean, let’s go? And you promised there would be no kissing.”