the teasing and asked for more of the gory details.
“You’d be surprised how many penalties fit an over-handsy date.” She ticked them off on her fingers, trying to keep a straight face. “Illegal use of hands, encroaching, neutral zone infraction, illegal touching, illegal man downfield…”
College Boy #1 howled laughter, drawing curious looks from other tables. “He should have pulled out some opposing flags. Pass interference comes to mind.”
“Sounds more like roughing the passer.” College Boy #2 snickered. “What a riot.”
Jack merely grinned as the penalty flags got more ridiculous. How on earth had he formed the impression that she was shy? Had her sister suggested it? He didn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
She was lively and entertaining. And adventurous. She tried his eel appetizer without complaint and admitted that it was pretty good. She used chopsticks with ease. She chatted easily with strangers and passing acquaintances alike. She even chatted with him, gently nudging him into the conversation when he’d been quiet for too long. She talked about her friends and about Mike, though she didn’t mention any other family. And she talked about football.
She really did know her stuff, there. It wasn’t just the surface dressing some girls adopted to fit in with the guys. College Boy #2 led most of the conversation, but she held her own, topping his Pittsburgh stats with impressive Kansas City feats almost every time. However, she graciously admitted when her team was beaten, especially when it came to their end-of-season win total. Pittsburgh had finished ahead by a good four games, not counting their two post-season match-ups.
He ate and she talked, and she didn’t seem to mind when he slipped his arm around her shoulders as she chattered. He pretended not to notice when she casually placed a hand on his thigh while laughing at College Boy #3’s protest that everything they’d said was negated by the fact that professional football players were paid too much. And when all the food was eaten, the chef thanked and tipped and the last drink partaken, neither he nor she complained when they stood and joined hands to walk out of the restaurant.
It didn’t matter that it was all pretend. It didn’t matter that she removed her hand from his as soon as they reached the parking lot. For a moment, he felt like a real person again—something he hadn’t realized he missed.
There would likely be more sex. There would definitely be sleeping and cuddling. And in the morning, there would probably be breakfast. Then, there would be a very final goodbye.
Frowning as he unlocked the passenger door of his SUV for her, he decided that he’d do well to remember that.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
They both fidgeted at the end of her sidewalk, the glaring morning sunlight refusing to hide their discomfort. His smile was obviously forced, but Gabe overlooked it. For some reason, her smile was forced, too.
“No problem.” She shifted and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Thanks for Japanese last night.”
“My pleasure.”
Were they supposed to kiss? Hug? Shake hands? Exchange phone numbers? She didn’t know, and the quiet stretched out entirely too long.
She shouldn’t have agreed to dinner with him last night. She knew that now. That had made it too much like a date, which made this the Morning After. The whole reason she’d agreed to letting him do his thing in the first place was because it wouldn’t be awkward later. Well, she had totally bollixed that one.
“I’d better go.” His hands twitched at his sides as if they wanted to do something he wouldn’t allow them to do. “Goodbye, Gabe.”
“Yeah. ’Bye, Jack. Or Blade, if you prefer.”
He smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s been sweet, and I don’t say that to everyone.”
“Get outta here already.”
He did, climbing into his ridiculously swank SUV and driving away without so much as a wave. He obviously
“You’d be surprised how many penalties fit an over-handsy date.” She ticked them off on her fingers, trying to keep a straight face. “Illegal use of hands, encroaching, neutral zone infraction, illegal touching, illegal man downfield…”
College Boy #1 howled laughter, drawing curious looks from other tables. “He should have pulled out some opposing flags. Pass interference comes to mind.”
“Sounds more like roughing the passer.” College Boy #2 snickered. “What a riot.”
Jack merely grinned as the penalty flags got more ridiculous. How on earth had he formed the impression that she was shy? Had her sister suggested it? He didn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
She was lively and entertaining. And adventurous. She tried his eel appetizer without complaint and admitted that it was pretty good. She used chopsticks with ease. She chatted easily with strangers and passing acquaintances alike. She even chatted with him, gently nudging him into the conversation when he’d been quiet for too long. She talked about her friends and about Mike, though she didn’t mention any other family. And she talked about football.
She really did know her stuff, there. It wasn’t just the surface dressing some girls adopted to fit in with the guys. College Boy #2 led most of the conversation, but she held her own, topping his Pittsburgh stats with impressive Kansas City feats almost every time. However, she graciously admitted when her team was beaten, especially when it came to their end-of-season win total. Pittsburgh had finished ahead by a good four games, not counting their two post-season match-ups.
He ate and she talked, and she didn’t seem to mind when he slipped his arm around her shoulders as she chattered. He pretended not to notice when she casually placed a hand on his thigh while laughing at College Boy #3’s protest that everything they’d said was negated by the fact that professional football players were paid too much. And when all the food was eaten, the chef thanked and tipped and the last drink partaken, neither he nor she complained when they stood and joined hands to walk out of the restaurant.
It didn’t matter that it was all pretend. It didn’t matter that she removed her hand from his as soon as they reached the parking lot. For a moment, he felt like a real person again—something he hadn’t realized he missed.
There would likely be more sex. There would definitely be sleeping and cuddling. And in the morning, there would probably be breakfast. Then, there would be a very final goodbye.
Frowning as he unlocked the passenger door of his SUV for her, he decided that he’d do well to remember that.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
They both fidgeted at the end of her sidewalk, the glaring morning sunlight refusing to hide their discomfort. His smile was obviously forced, but Gabe overlooked it. For some reason, her smile was forced, too.
“No problem.” She shifted and stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Thanks for Japanese last night.”
“My pleasure.”
Were they supposed to kiss? Hug? Shake hands? Exchange phone numbers? She didn’t know, and the quiet stretched out entirely too long.
She shouldn’t have agreed to dinner with him last night. She knew that now. That had made it too much like a date, which made this the Morning After. The whole reason she’d agreed to letting him do his thing in the first place was because it wouldn’t be awkward later. Well, she had totally bollixed that one.
“I’d better go.” His hands twitched at his sides as if they wanted to do something he wouldn’t allow them to do. “Goodbye, Gabe.”
“Yeah. ’Bye, Jack. Or Blade, if you prefer.”
He smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “It’s been sweet, and I don’t say that to everyone.”
“Get outta here already.”
He did, climbing into his ridiculously swank SUV and driving away without so much as a wave. He obviously
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