Page 28 of The Path to Loving Him
This guy . . . he has no freaking clue about my level of self-control.
“Because I have a little girl I need to take care of, and I don’t need . . .” His jaw clenches as he leans forward, his face close to mine as he whispers, “I don’t need the fucking distraction.”
Something about the way his breath caught in his throat when he said that, like he’s truly worried, like this conversation actually means something to him, and it’s not some alpha dipshit way to get me to move out.
He truly means it . . . he doesn’t want to be distracted.
I pull away from him just enough to look him in the eyes. They’re such a beautiful green color. A mixture of seafoam and moss. Stunning despite the sadness I see in them.
“I won’t be a distraction,” I say as guilt starts to swarm me.
Does he know about the assistant coach job? He probably doesn’t given that he hasn’t mentioned it.
Is it something that I should mention?
Right now?
I hear his niece in the background, galloping away, and I realize it’s probably not the time. He’s already angry about this, so there’s no need to double down.
He takes a step back and nods. “Okay.” He glances over my shoulder again. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that night we spent together . . . to anyone.” That makes me frownwith annoyance. When he says it like that, he makes it seem like he’s ashamed. “I was drunk . . . and well, let’s just keep it between us.”
Wow.
Okay.
I press my lips together and nod. “Sure, not a problem.” Feeling my irritation ramp up, I say, “Is that all?”
“Yeah,” he answers.
“Good.” I move past him, my shoulder brushing against his. “Looking forward to being neighbors.”
Chapter Six
RYLAND
“When is closing?” Abel asks as he tosses the ball to me.
We’re out on the baseball field, fucking around after about three hours of intense landscaping and grooming. The school doesn’t have the budget for professional landscapers for the field—well, at least not the budget I need to hire the type of experts I want—so I tend to spend a great deal of time keeping the field in pristine condition myself. Today, I roped Abel into helping on his day off.
I’m rewarding him with a toss.
“In about two hours,” I say. “I can still back out.”
It’s been a whirlwind since I saw Gabby at the house a week ago. I’ve been gnawing on that information every night since, considering over and over again if I want to go through with the house purchase.
“Can you, though?” Abel asks as he catches the ball. “Mac is in love with the place. Didn’t you have to go to the backyard yesterday and watch her play under the big tree?”
“For an hour,” I grumble as Abel throws me the ball, the thud of leather hitting leather one of the best sounds ever. “She didn’t want to leave. I had to bribe her with horsey rides at the farm.”
“And what does that entail?”
“Me forcing Wyatt to get on his hands and knees so she can ride on his back.”
“And why weren’t you the horsey?” he asks with a brow raised.
“I was making a shitty dinner for everyone.”
“Ah, that checks.” He catches the ball and starts walking toward me. “Remind me why you want to back out? Because you never really got into that.”
