Which leaves one person.
My heart somersaults in my chest. “Antonio,” I whisper.
“Mr. Knight, yes.” Ms. Amber’s tone is cautious, her brows creasing the fine lines in her chocolate skin. “But he asked to remain anonymous.”
How did he not think I wouldn’t piece it together? He’s always doing things he assumes will go unnoticed, like the stash of Twizzlers that popped up in my mailbox. Even in his absence, he makes his presence known.
“I won’t tell. He’s my—my—”
The warmth of Ms. Amber’s smile echoes in her voice. “He mentioned a friend when the Steel were here in January. Someone in engineering, whom he spoke fondly of. That was you?”
“Yes.”
Her grin spreads. “He seems like a fine young man. Handsome too.”
“The best,” I say, my voice thick and unsteady.
Antonio never ceases to amaze. His attention to detail and care for my needs render me speechless. The simplest gestures—the non-Valentine’s Day gifts from the Houston Space Center, ordering me a phone charger from a different country—are reminders he’s thinking of me. He’s very thoughtful, but this is love. Not just for me, but for the community center and the kids who fulfill me every week.
“I have to go,” I say, already on my feet.
It’s a fight to not break down in front of my boss with big, messy tears and Florida Evans theatrics. My emotions and I don’t do PDA, but this man has me ready to be a spokesperson on its behalf.
I hug Ms. Amber, her price to enter and leave the premises, grab my bag and coat off the rack, and rush out the door. My boot buckles clink over worn linoleum. I want to sprint to my car, which is under the spell of never-ending winter, and drive to Steel House. But Antonio isn’t there. He left for Utah with the team yesterday to acclimate to the higher elevation before Saturday’s game.
One day together wasn’t enough. By the time I made it to him after work, he’d fallen asleep with a granola bar dangling from his mouth. Sleep knocked him out for the rest of the night. I stayed in his arms on the couch, studying the shadows of his profile, which was softened from hard-earned rest.
Antonio and the rest of the Steel are getting national attention. The recent media blitz and their undefeated record are bringing more fans into the world of rugby. I don’t like him being away for so long, but the videos of him online keep me company. They’re slo-mo shots of the team’s forearms and wide thighs. I’m not ashamed to say that I saved a few of Antonio’s ass in rugbyshorts, and a well-timed video of the deep cut of his abs clinging to his drenched jersey.
To them, I say, thank you for your service.
My pulse leaps when my phone rings until I realize it’s the factory-setting jingle and not the dial-up modem that’s sent me diving over the sofa on an occasion or two. Okay, six.
“Hey.” My attempt to chamber the flat greeting fails.
“Don’t sound so excited.” Kieran’s chuckle travels down the line.
“Sorry. Long day and a lot on my mind.”Like a man who isn’t you. I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder to zip my coat. “Did you need something?”
“I wanted to see about dinner, if you’re up for it.”
“Tonight?” I scrub my brow and think of my date with the DVR and a pint of ice cream.
“I haven’t seen you since our first date. We can go back to my office, and you can use the lab again.”
Damn him and that beautiful space.
A man in a trench coat could lure me into a sketchy van if he promised a computer with finite element analysis software.
I spent hours in the Maple King lab, skipping down a long rabbit hole and into a wonderland of ideas for my job. Everything I needed was at my fingertips. My mind was on technology I hadn’t accessed since I graduated. Not romance.
Kieran stayed in his office most of the night. He never tried to kiss me, and I showed no signs of interest. There were a few sidelong glances from my eyes to my lips, but nothing to suggest a future proposal.
Marcela always told me people set too-high expectations on first dates, and that leads to delusion or a misdemeanor. The allure of access to material properties applications and visualizing stress conditions is what drew me back to the state-of-the-art facility. I sent no calls or texts since then for Kieran to be inquiring about a same-day dinner almost two weeks later.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The chill in the air latches on to my breath on my way out the door. No spring in sight. Only Mother Nature’s freezer.
Kieran stays silent as I open my car door and start the engine. A puff of frost billows from the vent. “Okay,” he says in a clipped tone. “How about tomorrow?”
