He snorted. “Really? You’re the one that brought it up.”
“Well, I thought I could make you squirm. Most guys don’t like to hear about the red tide.”
He blinked. “Isn’t that Alabama’s slogan?”
“That’s the crimson tide.”
“Ah.” He paused. Then he put everything down, manhandled her to sit across the couch with her head propped up, laid the hot towel across her abdomen and handed her two pills. He left and returned with water.
“Drink them down.”
She did. Then he handed her some cocoa and a new term paper to grade.
“Thanks?”
He grunted and settled on the floor to play with the kittens. Feeling better with the heat seeping into her from the warm towel and the pills and cocoa taking effect, she focused on grading once more.
After a bit, Damon joined her on the sofa, sliding under her feet, since she laid across the entire couch. He had earbuds in and propped his phone on the table. Then he started rubbing her feet.
She blinked in surprise, feeling warm and cared for. And wow, he was hitting all the right spots in her feet to relax her.
“Get back to work, slacker,” he barked then returned to watching his phone while the kittens climbed on the couch on top of her legs.
The little fuzzballs fell asleep. She graded more papers, sipped more cocoa, and smiled as her domestic “bad boy” rubbed her feet in silence, so as not to disturb her.
And the calm, domestic scene unlocked something inside her from falling for the guy getting ready to leave all too soon.
He felt her regard and glanced over at her.
Don’t you dare smile at me, Damon.
His sweet grin charmed her before he turned back to his phone and her feet.
Damn it.
CHAPTER 31
At her basketball game Thursday, the team had been acing every play and hitting every basket. They could do no wrong. Considering they were playing last year’s most obnoxious team away from home, Marlie was more than ready for this win.
She’d driven over with Damon, appreciating his winterized truck with snow tires. They’d finally gotten a dusting of the white stuff, though it probably wouldn’t stick.
“That’s it, Melly. Nice one, girls.”
The last ten seconds ticked down. Her team had resisted the urge to mouth off, ignored the refs’ terrible calls, and paid no attention to the rowdy crowd calling them names. Because yeah, it was that kind of school, a small gathering of parents who cared more about winning than sportsmanship.
She hated the coach as well, an irritating guy who was trying to live through his players and who considered any win a good win. Whether his team played fair or not.
She would make sure to let the high school know she refused to play this group again. Enough was enough.
Damon sat up in the stands in the back, once again trying to be inconspicuous by slouching a lot and covering up in a ballcap—this one a Portland Trailblazers black and red—and a thick coat. He’d been respectful when cheering for their team, not saying a word when the parents mouthed off.
She’d warned him beforehand what to expect. Fortunately, he’d taken her guidance to be discreet.
Not so easy to do, because she wanted badly to flip off one of the opposing players’ fathers—Scott Dorson—a jackass with a reputation among all the girls’ basketball coaches in their district and father to several girls who played at various ages.
With the buzzer sounding, Marlie was glad to finally get the hell out of the jerky town. She hated the entire place, including the dumbass vice-principal who encouraged poor attitudes. The old bat added to the boisterous cheering and booing as she next to the coach.
Really, Barbara?
