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The Crush(17)

Author:Karla Sorensen

“I don’t freak out easily,” Adaline continued. “My eldest brother used to play for Washington, and one of my younger brothers plays for Ft. Lauderdale. Or he used to. He just transferred to the new team here in Portland. There will be no swooning, fainting, or high-pitched screaming if that is true.”

I smiled slightly. “So no matter what, it seems I won’t impress you.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh. “I don’t know about that. But I’m not a girl who’s impressed by fame, if that’s your angle.”

It was the kind of thing I expected Adaline to say. Something to purposely knock me off my pedestal.

And she’d just done that—quite effectively too.

But the night wasn’t over, and until she looked me in the eye, fully aware of who I was, then I still had a chance.

“Can I guess what would impress you?” I said, maintaining the slightly lower pitch to my voice.

The hand settled on her back slid higher, until the edge of my thumb danced along the line of her dress. Warm skin met the tip of my finger, and I risked the ghost of a touch for another, rewarded by a slight shiver in her frame.

“Go for it.”

If she recognized my voice, I could imagine the hourglass in my mind, tipped over and the time slowly running out on this dance.

I tilted my head down, aiming my words closer to her ear. “Honesty,” I said. “For starters.”

“The sexiest of all the virtues, to be sure.”

I smiled, settling my cheek against the top of her hair. Finally, her fingertips moved from the collar of my shirt and whispered along the back of my neck. I closed my eyes at the way she tickled the ends of my hair. The only thing saving me from being a complete jackass pressing his hard-on against her was the absolute mass of her skirt.

She had no idea—how I’d been thinking of her, how I’d forced myself to be patient for moments exactly like this. In that waiting, I found something bigger than any of the nerves I’d experienced before my first game.

Patience, I reminded myself.

The music swelled, I tugged on her hand, turning her in a gentle spin out and then back in. It made her laugh, and I felt an awful lot like I’d just hit a Hail Mary into the end zone at the end of a big game. The perfect landing.

Adaline settled naturally back into my arms, and we swayed like that, even though the music changed to a different pace. With the spin and the turn, I’d maneuvered us closer to a dark corner, and when I glanced around, no one seemed to be paying us much attention. It felt important to reveal myself before she pieced it together.

“What else impresses me, mystery man?”

I could’ve listed off a dozen things. A giant cup of coffee first thing in the morning. Through an IV if someone had it available for her.

Brightly colored sneakers. She had dozens of pairs.

Baked goods in all shapes and sizes. She had a bigger sweet tooth than anyone I’d ever met.

Clear organization bins. It was a whole thing, apparently, but once I learned how to watch the daily little videos that she posted, I discovered Adaline had a deep, abiding love for transferring her food from the packaging to more packaging, and for some reason, that brought her joy.

Who was I to judge, though? I thought football leather was one of the best smells in the world.

Tonight, however, mango shampoo was climbing up the list at a pretty rapid pace.

“Romance,” I told her quietly.

Her movements slowed, and her chest rose and fell on rapid breaths.

“No woman should accept a life free of big romantic gestures,” I said. “Especially you, Adaline.”

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