“What happened? May I ask?” She lets go of my hand and lifts her wine from the counter to finish the last sip.
“Of course you can. The last woman I dated wasalways taking selfies with me at games, and kind of parading me around when we went out. Talking me up for my role on the team. Sort of made me feel like she wasn’t actually into me.” I feel a little foolish as I share the story. But that’s how I felt at the time. “There’s this fine line betweenare you using me for your business,anddo you just enjoy taking selfies?I worried I’d sound like a dick, so I probably stayed with her longer than I should have. And when I finally got out, there was a big scene. She yelled at me in the hallway of my building, and it was just…”
She frowns in sympathy as she sets the wineglass in the sink. “A hot mess?”
“Exactly. It happened during the off-season, and I sort of needed to escape for a while. Carter and I took off for New York and hung out with friends there just to get away. That probably sounds ridiculous.”
She shakes her head, her eyes thoughtful. “Not at all. That makes sense. Sometimes, we just need a break. I get it.” She takes a beat, tilts her head. “Is that another reason why you kept quiet about who you were at first?”
“Definitely,” I say, glad to be truthful with her. I only like games on the football field—and the good kind in the bedroom. “But I really enjoyed not talking football with you. I like that we can talk about anything.”
“Me too,” she says.
The clock on the wall ticks closer to eleven, interrupting us.
Or maybe giving me an opportunity. “Brooke,” I begin, gearing up to ask to stay.
Her shoulders tense. Her jaw tightens.
Oh, shit? Does she think I want to take off? “Honey, it’s not bad,” I say.
“I didn’t think it was,” she says, then she lifts her fingers to her temple and rubs.
“Are you okay?”
“Just a tiny start of a headache.”
“You get headaches? Sophie does. Those are brutal.”
“Migraines. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“What makes it feel better? A hot shower? A massage?”
“Both?” she says, a little excited.
I seize the chance to make her feel better. “Then let’s do it.”
A couple minutes later, we’re under the stream of water in her shower, and I’m rubbing her neck and her shoulders, and she’s murmuring then moaning as I rub.
I keep it up for as long as she needs. Until she says, “I think you scared it away. Maybe you do have superpowers.”
“Traffic cowers in the presence of your orgasms and migraines hide in the face of my hands,” I say as she turns off the shower, and we step out.
“I’m glad I don’t have to take a migraine pill. They make me dizzy and a little out of it,” she says, but then she yawns while drying off.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say wrapping a towel around my waist.
“Sleep with me.” She sounds more vulnerable than she has before.
She’s such a strong, tough woman, but she’s showing me tender sides tonight.
I want more of them.
“I will,” I say, and curl up under the covers with her.
In the morning, I’m still thinking about the off-season, wishing it were sooner.
Wondering what we can pull off.