Canyoutake care of them?
I moan into the pleasure of the hand rub as he kneads my palm. “Are you ready for Monday?” he asks.
My head is still in such a fog from sex, but I do my best to clear it. “Yes. I worked on the script today at Maddox’s house. Made a few final tweaks. I kind of can’t wait for the table read,” I say.
He digs his thumb into the center of my palm, pressing hard. “Makes sense. That’s how I always feel about training camp too. It’s exhausting, but I love it too.”
“Yes. Exactly. I know I’ll be working crazy hours—probably round the clock—but this is something I’ve wanted for a long time now. I’m lucky to even have the chance to produce a show at all.”
He scoffs. “It’s not luck. It’s talent, skill, hard work.”
He’s not wrong. But Hollywood relies a lot on luck too. “True, but making it in this business definitely takes some stardust and magic. When you find it, you can’t let anything get in the way. This is a huge chance for me to prove to the whole damn world that I have what it takes to jump from being onscreen to being behind the cameras.”
He brings my palm to his soft mouth. “And you will,” he says, then his gaze drifts to my necklace. “That’s cute. Very you.”
I finger the typewriter charm. “Thanks. I do like jewelry. I picked it up at Rachel’s jewelry boutique tonight,” I say, feeling better than I did when I last saw her. I can tell her about tonight, and I won’t feel like I lied. Ididopen my heart to Gabe. “Oh! And I have dinner with her Sunday night at this place right near her shop. I basically commandeered her into being my new best friend.”
He laughs. “I’m sure it was so hard for her to say yes to spending time with you,” he says, then studies the charm a bit more. “Hold on, just a sec.”
He rises, retreats to the bedroom, and returns with his fist closed, wrapped around something. When he sits back next to me on the couch, he opens it.
I squeal. “It’s gorgeous! How can you not wear this every day? I would never take it off.”
He laughs, then kisses my hair as I fondle his Super Bowl ring. Diamonds and sapphires gleam on the massive piece of jewelry. “It’s like something a mafia boss would wear.”
“Yeah, only it probably won’t fit on your pinkie,” he says.
“I’ll stuff it with cotton or string or whatever and make it fit,” I say, running my fingers along the etching with the number of the game, the name of his team. It’s both gaudy and breathtaking. “I remember seeing you play in this game on TV,” I say, flashing back to a few years ago. “That catch you made.”
“Which one, sweetheart?” he asks, deservedly cocky. “I made a lot of catches in that game.”
I gawk at the ring. “All of them.”
Then, he takes it from my hand, like playtime is over. Except, it’s not. Gently, he wiggles it onto my thumb.
It fits perfectly. My grin is bigger than the sky. “I love it.”
“Looks good on you,” he says, then his gaze travels down to my rear. “Are you sore?”
“Only in the best of ways.”
He lifts up the hem of my shirt, whistling in admiration at the marks he left. “Glad we abandoned the picnic,” he says, with a sly smile. “But are you still hungry?”
“I think that hummus might be calling my name. Maybe the pie. We didn’t even break it open.”
Like it’s such a damn shame we took off early for our version ofchurch.
“And the pie looked damn good,” he says.
“I got it at this cute little bakery near me earlier today. When I was out walking—” I bolt up upright. I can’t believe I forgot my love. “Shoot. I need to go.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, a line digging into his forehead.
“Gigi has been alone for a few hours now,” I say, then hustle around his living room, hunting for my clothes, my canvas bag, my purse. “How could I have nearly forgotten her? I mean, she can hold it for a long time—she’s trained and everything. I just meant I can’t stay the night.”
He moves swiftly into action, jumping up from the couch to join me. “I’ll get her,” he says, setting a hand on my arm as I’m grabbing my phone from the table.
I jerk my gaze toward him, my hand freezing on the device. “What?”