Of course, none of his past relationships had been deeper than those kiddie pools they sold at Target, but this revealed a lot about what was happening between them. He felt . . . comfortable with Taylor. More comfortable than he’d felt with anyone else in so long.
“Anyway,” Jamar continued. “Big Silas—that’s what everyone calls Silas’s grandfather—he needs round-the-clock care, but he’s stubborn as hell. Silas’s sister, Andrea, is looking into hiring a full-time nurse.” He caught her gaze and did his best to communicate how important this was to him. “I want to make sure Big Silas gets the best care possible, not just right now, but for the rest of his life.”
Jamar could tell the exact moment she caught the meaning behind his words. She nodded, then reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
To anyone looking at them, they would appear to be a normal couple on a date, sharing a relaxed smile as they held hands. He rubbed his thumb back and forth across her wrist, sending a silent message of gratitude for the way she just sat and listened as he talked about people she didn’t even know. It meant so damn much to him.
After several more moments passed, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go.
“So this game we’re watching, what’s so important about it?” she asked in a voice that was meant for others to hear.
“Texas versus Texas Tech? The honor of winning the Chancellor’s Spurs trophy? You’re kidding me, right? Even if you don’t follow college football, you can’t live in Austin and not understand the importance of this game.”
She hunched her shoulders. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Twenty-Three. I’ve been here almost two years and I have no idea what any of it means.”
Jamar ran a hand down his face. “I still have so, so much to teach you.”
The server came around with a second round of drinks for them. Jamar started to order more wings, but Taylor stopped him.
“I can’t eat any more.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She looked up at the server and said, “Thanks. We’re good with the drinks.” Once the guy had left the table, she looked over at Jamar with a sly smile. “You think you’re slick. I know you were just trying to prolong your splurge meal.”
He pointed at his chest. “Me? Never.”
She rolled her eyes as she lifted the laminated menu from the condiment holder in the center of the table.
“I’ll agree to dessert, but only if we split it.”
Jamar observed the way her lips moved as she read over the menu, even though she wasn’t speaking loud enough for him to hear. This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed her doing that.
“Hey, have you—”
“Looks like we got ourselves a star in the house,” a brash, inebriated voice called from somewhere nearby. “None other than Diesel Dixon. That is you, isn’t it, Diesel?”
He glanced in the direction of where the voice had come from. There was a group of guys sitting two tables over, dressed head to toe in Texas Tech red and black.
Shit.
He was hoping this would be a case of quickly appeasing a couple of tipsy fans with an autograph or two, maybe a couple of selfies. But these guys didn’t want his autograph.
“You here living out your glory days, Diesel?”
Taylor hooked a thumb toward the table of four. “Who’s that?”
Jamar made a cutting gesture with his hands. “Nobody. Don’t worry about them.”
Several of the other fans in the sports bar had turned their attention from the TV screens. Jamar knew he needed to defuse the situation before this got out of hand.
“Don’t worry about these guys,” he said loud enough for those at the surrounding tables to hear. He infused amusement into his voice in an attempt to convey an air of joviality he wasn’t really feeling.
“Yeah, Diesel was all big and bad when he played for those Longhorns,” the guy continued, his words slurred. “The boys in the NFL showed you whatrealfootball is about, ain’t that right? How’s that knee treating you?”
Taylor twisted around in her seat.
“Taylor,” Jamar warned, but it was too late. Poor bastards.
