Page 37 of The Linebacker

“Totally worth letting you invade my personal space,” she teased, savoring the combination of flavors and knowing full well she was going to finish every last bite. Hell, she might lick the plate clean.

Amil’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up here last night. I had no right?—”

She lifted her hand, palm facing out. “I just said this is worth it. You keep cooking breakfast like this and you can stay as long as you want.”

She didn’t mean to say it out loud, but in that moment, well, she kind of, sort of meant it. In fact, the only thing that would improve this unexpected situation was if the reason he came to her rather than anyone else—including the most obvious solution of a pet-friendly Airbnb—was because he didn’t actually want to sleep on her couch.

His plate empty, he took it to the kitchen, loading it as well as the rest of the dishes he’d dirtied into the dishwasher. He then plucked the coffee carafe off the warmer and topped off her cup before bringing her the bottle of creamer from the fridge.

“I managed to get in and out of the bathroom at six without waking you, but I decided not to press my luck when I got back from my run, so I haven’t showered yet.”

“You went running? At six a.m.?” She curled her lips and wrinkled her nose. She was not a six a.m. person.

But then she blinked and stared at her empty plate. “And made breakfast?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. The man was a professional athlete, after all. He no doubt had lots of routines that involved working out and then refueling.

But she’d never gotten to know anyone on the team well enough to have any idea what their morning routine was.

And she’d certainly never stuck around long enough after one of her one-night stands for breakfast, a jog, or a shower.

That must be why this whole experience felt so damn…comfortable. Nice. Cozy.

Homey.

She fought the wince. It probably would not be like this if they were sleeping together. Even though she’d mentally made the decision that she wanted to sleep with him again, she hadn’t let herself imagine the scenario beyond all the fabulous sex she’d get to have.

Because she knew damn well she’d spiral down that rabbit hole of the family curse so fast her head would spin.

Amil chuckled. “Yeah, and now I’m going to go shower—I mean, take a bath.”

“Oh. Right. Of course. Um, towels are in the basket between the tub and the wall.”

“Got it. I won’t be long.”

She waved him off as disappointment crashed into her. “Take your time,” she said feebly.

He disappeared around the corner. He would not take his time. Amil was far too polite, too considerate to dawdle in their shared bathroom. Even if she told him to do it.

She had been such a fool to push him away when he told her he wanted a replay of that fantastic night they’d shared two years ago.

Such. A. Fool.

Chapter

Thirteen

Amil’s first official game with the Mountain Lions was in the Sunday Night Football timeslot.

They were on the West Coast, so the game started at five o’clock local time, with a great deal of fanfare. He had to give a handful of pregame interviews, assuring reporters that yes, he really did want to be part of the Mountain Lions franchise. Did he think he could take the team to another Super Bowl?

He thought this team had a reasonable chance of making it to the Super Bowl again. But did he think he was the golden ticket that would get them there?

No.

“There’s no I in team,” he joked to the reporter, who would not stop asking the same question over and over, in ten different ways.

She was tall and blonde, with a tight, short skirt and breasts that were too perfect to be real. Attractive, although she gave off a mean girl vibe, which was pretty much an instant turnoff for him.