“Shush up, Mills. I wanted to get him a present, and I couldn’t do that with some rando assistant that might tell him.”
I lift my chin, still searching, but to no avail.
“Umm,” Millie draws out. “Are we worried about getting surprise gifts for your fake husband who you don’t want as your real boyfriend?”
I hop down, fully focused on her.
“We are. But only ‘ish.’ Listen, we’ve got four more days together. I’m not throwing it all away for him. You know what I mean? We can relax. It’s a goodbye gift.”
The only part of that sentence that’s true is the fact that we’ve got four more days together. Because I’m starting to worry that Crew could make me do dumb shit I’d regret later.
Millie starts in with some therapy-grade overanalyzing when some dude I’ve never seen in my life waves at me, calling me by name. So I interrupt her.
“Mills, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
Mr. Enthusiasm jogs up, smiling as he greets me.
“Hi, Eleanor, right? I’m Matt.” I nod as he continues. “Crew’s been waiting for you to get here. But since you didn’t come with the driver, I wasn’t sure which way you came in. I’m happy I found you.”
I smile. “Me too.” I glance around again, but Matt shakes his head, motioning toward a golf cart.
“They’re not here. This is reserved for the players’ practice sessions. Crew, TJ, and Nate are on one of the outdoor fields. How about a ride?”
I follow my new friend to my chariot and try not to feel what I’m feeling…which is giddy. It’s impossible not to feel that way, being here where Crew practically lives. It just feels special somehow. We only drive for a few minutes before we’re heading down a tunnel.
I’m already laughing because outside of the tunnel sounds like recess in a schoolyard.
“Are there kids out there…” I say, surprised.
I thought he wanted me to come to an exhibition match or something like that.
Matt glances over at me, nodding.
“Yeah, this is what field day is. Crew started it a few years back. He invites kids from low-income neighborhoods through places like the Y—”
My heart stops in my chest. He’s shared a lot about how he grew up, and places like that saved him more times than he should have needed.
“These are kids that wouldn’t necessarily get the opportunity to do the camps we offer. Anyway, it’s really grown over the years and become very popular, so we were really pleased that he pushed for the organization to let him do it one last time before he left.”
He pushed. The other night, he played it off like it was just something he had to do. Oh, man. Hot, charming, big dick, and kinky, and now I have to add humble.
Dear Universe, what happened to being a girl’s girl? Why are you doing this to me?
The cart slows at the entrance, which is nice because I can already feel the damn heat, and it’s 7:00 a.m.
Matt turns toward me. “Between you and me, it’s a real shame this organization didn’t treat him better. He’s a pretty stellar guy.”
Yep. Try being married to him, Matt. You’d be an even bigger fan.
I exit the cart, and as soon as we walk out onto the field, my ovaries fucking explode.
Crew is running around shirtless, with a kid tucked under one arm and a ball held above his head in the other. A band of what looks like ten-year-olds are right on his heels, screaming and yelling before he spikes the ball and yells, “Touchdown.”
I laugh.
He’s adorable. This whole thing is fucking adorable. Maybe I really do just throw it all away. Who needs dreams and accomplishments? Why am I being so this century?
There might be something to the whole barefoot and pregnant road. I laugh to myself because I swear in another life… God.
I’m halfway to the grass when I hear TJ yell, “Crew, your girl is here.”
Your girl? Yeah, I’m gonna dine out on that one for weeks.
But all of a sudden, my feet falter, and I stop in my place because tiny head after tiny head turns in my direction. A hundred little sets of eyes on me. It would be a horror movie if it wasn’t so cute. All these little people, staring at me like they’re so excited I’m here.
Crew lifts both arms in the air and bellows, “Wild Card.”
And like a slow clap in an eighties film, my nickname is chanted, loudly, making the smile on my face permanent and my laughter never-ending.
He strolls over to me and smiles down.
“I’d kiss you, but they’d all cringe to death, and the papers would say I did inappropriate things in front of children.”
“You already did that…”
His forehead wrinkles in question, so I finish off my joke. “We let TJ and Nate watch.”
He chuckles, lifting my hand and pressing a kiss to the top before stepping away, letting his voice carry as he leaves, step by step, his eyes on me.
“Thanks for coming…I put you over in the shade because I know how you feel about the sun.” I’m smiling, watching him walk backward and biting my lip. “If you need anything, ask Matt, and make sure you stay out of the splash zone.”
“The splash zone?” I yell back, but it’s too late.
Before I can duck, water balloons begin flying through the air.
Holy shit.
I squeal, not knowing where to run and somehow, by the grace of god, actually catch one that was launched at me.
I’m staring at it, looking around as Crew yells, “Throw it.”
So, I do. And before I know it, I’m running around a football field, laughing and screaming, occasionally being hoisted up and manhandled by my husband as pandemonium erupts around us.
It’s perfect. And that scares me to death. Because I’m not ready for perfect. I don’t have room in my life. It’s still a mess over here…a work in progress. I’m not ready for company.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m falling for him, for real, at the wrong time. And I need to let the right guy get away.
I’ve been watching for about an hour, drying off. Even though that took about thirteen seconds in this heat. But either way, I’ve been sitting in my designated seat, watching them play. Sometimes they run routes, and other times, Nate gathers a bunch of kids to show them how to position themselves on the field.
From the looks of it, TJ’s job is just to pick people up and throw them around, making prepubescent shrieks sound off around the field, accompanied by “Me next.”
“This is a good thing he does,” I breathe out, really watching and letting it all sink in.
Before that thought can get any deeper, someone sits down next to me, nabbing my attention. I look to my side, a dark-haired woman with a friendly face staring back, albeit one I don’t know.
“Hi,” I offer, wondering who the fuck she is.
“Hi, Eleanor.” Knows my name, has to be press. “Rosanna Marquez. I work for the Review-Journal, a newspaper here in Las Vegas. I was just here asking some questions about the kids’ annual field day. We like to get the kids’ take on what they like and what they don’t, and we grab some quotes from the guys. I saw you sitting up here and—”