“Have fun with the…dog,” Axel says with a wink.
Flipping him the bird, I head inside, cups in hand. Ellie’s pacing the kitchen, her phone pressed to her ear. Brightly, she waves at me. Evidently, she’s excited to see me and the dog.
My pulse skitters. I smile back at her as I unhook Gigi’s leash from her harness, careful not to spill the drinks.
The dog scampers over to Ellie, whimpering happily as she dances on her back legs like it’s been thirty years, and not thirty minutes since she’s seen her person.
It’s seriously the cutest thing. Especially when Ellie bends down to pet her. My woman’s wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, and I like that outfit a lot.
So much it’s scrambling my brain.
“Yes, Mom,” she says into the phone, then pauses. “No, they haven’t called again yet.”
Another pause.
“I still don’t know what to say if they want to interview me,” she says with a sigh as I head into the kitchen and put the drinks on the counter, curious who she’s talking about.
“Yes. I’ll be there this weekend.With Gabe,” she adds with a hint of a smile in her voice.
Ah, I like the sound of that. There’s a shriek on the other end of the line.
“Yes, Mom.That Gabe.”
I straighten my shoulders, pride surging through me. Yeah, I’mthat Gabe. I’m that guy who’s taking her to the party this weekend. No one else is taking her.
“Are we dating?” She arches a brow at me in question.
I growl, then give the only answer. I nod a clear and firmyes.
“We’ll be on a date at your party,” she says into the phone. “Love you too, Mom.” Then she hangs up.
She doesn’t say anything more to me about the dating comment. I’m not sure why, but I’m relieved. If she did, I might be tempted to tell her the truth—this sure as hell feels like real dating.
But real dating doesn’t have an expiration date.
We do. We agreed to about a week. One week, one party, then we’re done. Doesn’t matter if I like her more and more each time we hang out.
I have training camp out of town starting in a few more days, and my final football season to focus on. I need to stay healthy and injury-free. That means no distractions.
She has her new gig writing and producing her show.
Case closed.
I wipe away thoughts ofmore, andnext week, andreal dates.
Ellie gestures to Gigi, who’s trotting into the living room now. “You walked my dog.” She says it like I’ve fought off lions.
Maybe that’s what dog care is to her. The ultimate sign of devotion.
“And she really is a good girl,” I say. I want to ask what she and her mom were talking about, but I don’t know if we’re at a “pry in your personal business” place.
But Ellie saves me from wondering, and shares, “My mom wanted to know if I’m going to do the interview.” At my questioning look, she explains, “For the showFabio’s List.” I’m still drawing a blank, but she goes on with the story of how she dated a guy who conned women and now LGO is doing a documentary about him.
Anger flares in my chest, hot and fast. “Did he hurt you?”
“Oh, no. Not like that. Not physically.”
“Good. But I meant in any way. Did he hurt you in any way?” I bite out. “Because I will fucking destroy him if he did.”