Page 9 of Married to the Scottish Player
She raises a brow.
“The one staying across the lake.”
Still nothing.
I can’t tell if she’s this unimpressed or has zero clue what I’m talking about. Either way I find it incredibly annoying.
“Jesus,” I mutter. “I play for Arizona. Defensive line. You might’ve heard of Harris Bennett?”
That gets her attention. “Harris? As inLucy’sHarris?”
Bingo.
“That Harris.” I clear my throat. “Technically this is a recovery week. Harris and the rest of the team were here for the preseason retreat—and when they were all raving about the solitude, well ... my knee is jacked up, and I needed somewhere to recuperate.”
She lifts both brows. “And instead you got me.”
“I got you,” I agree, deadpan.
We stare at each other for a beat too long. One of her earrings is twisted backward. Her hair looks like it was attacked by the hammock gods. And she’s annoyingly cute as hell.
“Well,” she says after a beat, “I too was promised tranquility and good Wi-Fi, and so far, I’ve got neither.”
Is she trying to one-up me? Can’t decide.
“We’re stuck here until someone decides to call you back—if they call you back. Which is probably never.”
Annabelle huffs. “There’s only one bed, so one of us has to leave.”
I gesture toward the door, relishing the way her eyes linger on my bicep. “Feel free.”
“Look,sir—I’m not thrilled about the idea either. But we’re both here. Neither of us is moving. And unless we want to alternate nights in the world’s worst futon, we should probably act like adults and—God, I don’t know—create a chart or something.”
A chart? So we know who gets the bed and when?
I don’t fucking think so.
“Absolutely not. I’m literally six-five and one bad night’s sleep away from permanent physical therapy.”
She hums, pretending to consider. “Rock paper scissors?”
“No.”
“Arm wrestle?”
I deadpan. “What part ofjacked up from a torn ligamentare you not understanding?”
“So that’s it?” Annabelle throws her arms up. “You’reclaimingthe bed?”
“Correct.”
“Rude! You can’t do that!”
“Says who?” I glance around. “Last time I checked, we were the only two here.”
“You, sir, are no gentleman!”
“No shit.” I laugh. “What gave it away?”
