Page 54 of First Down Promise

“No.” Her face falls, and she deserves to know why. “You were only eighteen, and I was twenty-six and distracted as fuck. When you showed up two years later, I noticed you changed. Matured. Even now, you’re different from that girl at twenty,” I say, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear and running my thumb along her jaw.

“I get it.”

Her foot brushes my ankle over my jeans again, and the motion sends a jolt straight to my groin. “You know, the first time I saw you in your cheer uniform, I was a total goner.”

“Really? What was it about the uniform?”

“Well, obviously, they’re way too revealing, but you looked good in it. Shy and maybe a little embarrassed, but seeing you like that just made me realize you had grown up.” I can still picture her coming down Pete’s stairs in black and gold, trying to cover herself with that robe the second she saw me.

“And that’s when I got to you?”

“Maybe,” I tease.

I gently cup the back of her head and brush my lips over hers. I might go to hell for getting so much closer with her this week, but after years of being the handyman on the field, it’s my turn to be a little selfish and indulge in my one.

Chapter Twenty

Josh

The next evening, I find myself back in Abby’s room. It feels like I woke up in her bed, only to go home, get a workout in, freshen up, and come back a couple of hours before my annual bash starts. I brought my truck over, and if Pete notices my truck in his driveway, I can bluff my way out of an interrogation.

“What should I wear?” Abby calls from her walk-in closet. She’s standing there in a strapless bra and thong, but I just lie back on her bed on her fluffy duvet and stare at the modern, gray ceiling fan while she gets dressed.

Thoughts of what we did last night want to come back, but I huff out a breath instead. “Something tight and short,” I reply, and I can feel her eye roll from here.

“I’m not trying to make headlines, and I don’t want Pete to be pissed if I wear something a little too risque.” I drag my hands down my face. Pete. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s just a party at a bar, Ab. Jeans and a shirt some designer gave me for tonight.”

Every bye week, I host a massive party at a locally owned bar and brewery, but it’s evolved from a casual party I hosted there my second year on the team into quite the event, with party planners involved now. A few Stallions players and a few other players from around the league will be there tonight, but out of our group, only Dane will be attending.

Usually, I’d bring a girl home afterward. It even became a joke, and it’s nauseating to think about what I’m going to do this year. I can’t publicly bring Abby home because she’s Pete’s sister and on the squad, but I’ll find a way.

“Oof,” I breathe out as Abby suddenly straddles me. She plants her knees on each side of my hips and leans down to hover her face above mine.

“I didn’t find anything.” She smirks. “Guess I can’t go.” My hands come down on her ass with a loud smack, and I give her cheeks a quick rub to dissipate the sting in case my hands landed harder than I meant. Then, I give them a quick squeeze.

“Bet. I’ll find you something.”

She sits up and rests her ass on my lap. My dick wants to stir in my pants, but I tell him he needs to wait till later. Though I can’t resist caressing her thighs.

“You won’t. My wardrobe is so boring.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say.

She sighs loudly as she gets off my lap, and as I sit up, my back screams at me. I ignore the shooting pains, mentally noting to find some ibuprofen before the party, and head into her closet. Abby’s outfit from last night is halfway in the hamper, hanging off the side. I just chuckle under my breath and focus on the hangers. She has her clothes organized in rainbow order by category, which is more type A of her than I expected. I flick through her dresses until I land on a little black dress.

Abby walks into the doorway as I lift the hanger off the rack, but her face falls. “Um, that was my mom’s dress from when she was single in the nineties. It’s vintage.” Her eyes soften, and she giggles then. “She used to call it her single girl Friday night dress. Pretty sure she met my dad wearing it in college.”

“Does it fit you?”

“I don’t know. I guess I should find out.” She carefully takes the dress from me and slips the thin straps from the velvet hanger. She drops her clothes to the floor and pulls the smooth fabric up her thighs. “Zip me?” Abby asks, slipping the straps up her shoulders.

“Yep.” The zipper glides up easily as the dress closes around her. She steps toward her full-length mirror, and I follow her, gathering her hair behind her shoulders. “It’s a perfect fit.” The dress stops just above her knees and molds to her figure. It’s a classic style with a high, straight neckline and small straps, and no other girl would be wearing anything similar tonight. The black contrasts against her creamy skin perfectly, too. My hands trail down her sides, running my fingertips along the slick fabric. “You look gorgeous. Holy shit.” She laughs and brushes her hands over mine as she turns to face me.

“And shoes?”

“Well, I’m almost a foot taller than you, so the higher, the better.”