I expect a look of sympathy, or even a somewhat fake answer about how she’d never do that to me. Instead, Audrey surprises me again. “I totally get that. I have that issue too. It’s even worse with friendships because a lot of time, they’ll be so excited about our bond, and then they suddenly rip it away. It’s like friendship love bombing.”
Stunned, I stare at her incredulously. Who the hell is this woman? “I’ve never heard of love bombing.”
“A friend has experienced it. I haven’t.” She snorts. “No one would ever love bomb me. But it’s basically where someone showers you with gifts, words of affirmation, and anything else that makes you believe you’ve foundthe one.”
“Fascinating,” I murmur. “Why don’t you think anyone would love bomb you?”
“Oh,” she replies with a nervous giggle. “I’m too analytical. I have questions. Why all the gifts? Where are they coming from? Did you do something you feel the need to apologize for? Are you trying to buy affection, or cover up something dastardly?”
“Dastardly is such an underused word,” I muse, tapping my forefinger to my chin. “I love using old words that need to be revived again.”
“I have a word-a-day calendar. Two, actually. One at home and one at work,” Audrey says shyly.
“Nice! What were today’s words?” I ask.
“Jovial, which means good-humored, and fugacious, which means lasting a short time.”
“Huh. I’d never be called jovial.”
“Me neither. My best friend told me I’d be the grump in one of the romance books she reads,” Audrey tells me.
“There are romance books specifically about grumps?”
She nods. “Evidently, there’s an entire category about grumps falling for jovial people. I don’t read many romance books, so I’m taking her word for it.”
“So basically, it’s an opposites attract scenario.”
“I guess. She tries to get me to read some, but it’s not my cup of tea.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Audrey sighs, her eyes drifting off to look over my left shoulder. “Because I’m a realist, probably to a fault. Romancebooks aren’t realistic. The men are over-the-top. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground instead of living in the clouds.”
“I can understand that,” I tell her with an emphatic nod. “I’d say I’m also a realist, but anyone who knows me would probably say I’m a pessimist.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I can see a tentative layer of trust simmering in her gorgeous hazel eyes. It makes me wonder if certain colors bring out the green tones, and when she gets excited, if the speckles of gold I see might shine a little brighter. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. I understand. I’m pretty calculated in everything I do. A lot of football is a game of numbers. Plays. Go where you’re supposed to go. Don’t overthink things, and don’t deviate from the plan. Granted, there are tons of times I make split-second decisions on the field, but the foundation of football is pretty black and white.”
Audrey clears her throat. “Speaking of black and white, that was the color palette for last year’s gala. I don’t recall seeing you there.”
I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly as I feel heat creep onto my cheeks. “I, uh, try to keep a low profile. A black tie gala isn’t a good fit for me.”
“I don’t understand. Why found a charity if you don’t want to show your face?” Audrey asks quietly.
“Because I want people to donate because they’re good people, not because they want to get near me. This is about the animals, not the quarterback.”
“When did you establish the charity?” she asks.
“Ten years ago, but it’s been on my mind since I was a kid.”
Audrey hums, and I wait for the inevitable question. Why? Why did I want to have a charity for animals? I don’t want to get into that, and I see the moment Audrey realizes it. “You don’t want to tell me why. And that’s absolutely your right.”
“Seriously?” I blurt out.
She giggles as she nods. “It’s perfectly acceptable to establish boundaries, Jameson. People aren’t entitled to every piece of you.”
“Thank you. Most people don’t understand that. They seem to think since they cheer for me on the field, they’re entitled to all the details about me off the field too.”
