Me: Needs-3 bed/3 bath, outside of downtown preferred, large yard w/ privacy, space for home gym, pool is a plus but not a requirement. I’d like to stay under 1.5M
Molly Ward: You got it.
I took a deep breath and sent another one.
Me: Thank you. I appreciate your help.
Molly Ward: Careful, Noah, I'll mistake that for being friendly…
I shook my head slowly, but as I tucked my phone away and stared at the stars again, I had to force away the smile that threatened.
Chapter Nine
Molly
"You are a badass, and you can do this," I whispered fiercely. Her lips were petal pink. Her hair was pulled back into a braided ponytail, and the white shirt made her eyes pop. She was me, and she was about to slay her first production planning meeting with Amazon and the big, scary football player who hated her.
I groaned. Not the kind of thought I wanted in my subconscious before I channeled my inner boss bitch.
Honestly, it was time to revise that statement anyway. The text thread on my phone proved that maybe Noah didn't hate me after all. Spending a couple of hours of my night at home searching for a house for him was bizarro but also nice … in a twisted way.
The search history on my laptop, now inundated with three-bedroom, three-bathroom houses, had kept him at the forefront of my mind.
When my alarm went off, a gentle chiming of bells, I woke from my dream with a start, searching the bed for the warmth of someone else's body because it had been so vivid in my mind that he'd been lying next to me in bed.
Not doing anything, mind you. Just … there.
Big and warm and solid. If I closed my eyes hard enough, making my own reflection disappear, I'd still be able to feel what I felt.
The complete absence of him in a tangible way.
My forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. Dreams about warm, sleepy Noah were not what I needed in my life, but at least it had been on the platonic side. Like I could have been sharing a bed with a golden retriever and achieved the same thing, if I thought about it critically.
Perfect. I nodded resolutely. Noah was a golden retriever, and he needed a home, and I was helping him because for the time being, my ship was tied to his.
Then I burst out laughing.
Noah as a cuddly, shaggy, sweet dog was just about the worst comparison in the entire universe of comparisons.
There was nothing unassuming or average about him.
The thing I noticed most, as he towered in the corner of Beatrice's office and as he moved through practice earlier, was that he never relaxed. Never allowed the tension to leave that massive body. His eyes were alert and searching, picking apart weaknesses in his opponents, whether that opponent was a teammate he was lining up against or little ole me.
An alert went off on my phone, the reminder I'd set for our meeting, and I took a deep breath.
It didn't matter how I tried to lessen the impact of Noah, he'd always take up more space—physical, mental, and emotional—than the average man.
I left the bathroom with a renewed sense of purpose because if he could reach out with an olive branch, then I could train my brain to view him with the necessary sense of detachment.
He was just a regular football player.
I didn't actually know him, no matter what happened between us.
And because of that, I'd be able to do with my job without any interference.
The small conference room across from my office was empty, so I flipped the lights on and set the stack of folders down, one in front of each empty chair. Beatrice was off-site for the day working on media stuff, so I didn't need to worry about her lurking in the hallway to judge my performance. Which was good because my pep talk was waning a little bit as the hands on the clock ticked closer, and no one had shown up yet.
The watch on my wrist showed the same time as my phone, as did the digital clock on the wall of the conference room.
Didn't these men know that ten minutes early was on time? Being on time was as good as being late.
Taking a seat, I impatiently crossed my legs. Then crossed them again. My feet already hurt because I'd decided that a couple of extra inches wouldn't hurt for one day. Inner badass and all.
I glared at those inches, encased in shiny black patent, innocently pinching and creating pain and suffering as it wrapped around a foot that'd never done anything to deserve such treatment.
"Screw this," I muttered. I sent a text to Paige to make sure I wasn’t crazy for wanting to chuck my shoes across the hall into my office.
Me: A boss bitch can be a boss bitch while wearing sedate ballet flats, right?
Paige: Abso-effing-lutely.
"Abso-effing-lutely," I repeated and stood resolutely. The heels were off in the next instant, and even though I shrank, my entire body sighed in relief.