Then another thought came to her, and she got even angrier. Because…what if he wasn’t alone?
Finally, Tank opened the door, giving her that signature cocky smirk of his. He was shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist, and it was obvious she’d caught him in the middle of a shower, as water droplets slid down his very lickable skin.
Nope. Not lickable.
“Mouse,” he said.
“McKenna,” she said, correcting him for the thousandth time, not that she expected it to work.
Now, as always, his gaze slid down as he took in her outfit, and she felt oddly self-conscious. She wasn’t a girlie-girl. While she owned one pair of high heels, the same couldn’t be said of a curling iron or a blow dryer. Her makeup bag consisted of mascara, tinted Chapstick, and a tube of cover-up for the occasional zit concealing. Her wardrobe was basic at best—jeans, work pants, plain blouses, sweaters, and a huge pile of cute graphic tees because what was life without a little whimsy.
Since today was destined to try her patience, she’d worn her most comfortable pair of jeans with a T-shirt that said, “I’m silently creating a spreadsheet for that,” and her favorite cardigan.
“Nice shirt.” His lips quirked at the edges, as if he was amused by what he was seeing. Then he opened the door wider so she could walk in. “Sorry for making you wait. Lost track of time during my workout.”
“That’s okay,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide her expression as she took in his apartment. “Oh. Wow.”
Tank shut the door behind him, chuckling at her horrified look. “I have a housekeeper who comes in every other day to put the place back together. She missed yesterday due to a doctor’s appointment.”
“You did all this in just three days?”
Tank crossed his arms, completely unoffended. “It’s not that bad.”
McKenna took in the dishes with caked-on food on the coffee table, the trails of dirty clothing leading in countless directions, empty bottles of Bodyarmor scattered around, and the pile of shoes by the front door.
“I’m not great at keeping the place tidy.”
“Not great would be one way to describe it,” she said, picking up a sweatshirt from the couch and tossing it to the side to clear a spot for her to sit. “Another way would be to admit you’re a slob.”
Tank laughed at her comment, which she hated to admit strangely pleased her. She wasn’t typically considered the funny one in any group, always the serious one. Making Tank laugh felt better than it should. Especially because Tank—who drove her crazy with his smug, swaggering ways—had the sexiest smile she’d ever seen in her entire life.
Everything about the man was hot, charming, breathtakingly attractive. No doubt he had women throwing themselves in his direction left and right. McKenna was proud to say she had no intention of ever tossing her panties in his ring—she had too much self-respect for that—but she had to admit he was good-looking.
“You’re not the first to make that observation,” he said. “Blake Mills and I tried the roommate thing when he was transferred to the Rays. It didn’t last long.”
She was sure it didn’t. Since the holidays, she’d been invited to Blake’s apartment a couple times for game nights, and his place always looked immaculate.
McKenna had recently been adopted into what she called the “Girlfriends Club” by Blake’s significant other, Erika. The other women included in the group were goalie Coulton’s girlfriend, Ainsley, and Chelsea, who was co-parenting the most adorable little boy with left winger, Preston. Chelsea’s best friend, Allyson, was also part of the newly formed social group, and like McKenna, she wasn’t dating a player.
McKenna had been delighted to be included in the occasional happy hour and shopping excursions, because all the women were super nice and a lot of fun. She hadn’t had a lot of girlfriends in her life. She was the type of girl who only seemed to manage one friend at a time. She’d had a high school bestie, and then a college one, but both those friendships faded after they graduated and moved on with their lives, taking jobs in different cities.
Tank picked up the sweatshirt she’d just moved, as well as several other articles of clothing, tucking them under his arm. The man was seriously built and no stranger to the gym. McKenna had never seen honest-to-God six-pack abs in real life. Then she counted again…
Tank had an eight-pack.
“Well, I guess I should go get dressed. Unless you prefer me in the towel.”
McKenna quickly averted her eyes, aware she’d been staring. “You should get dressed. We have a lot to go over.” She reached into her bag to pull out the schedule she’d just finished finalizing this morning. “It’s going to be a busy couple of weeks.”
Tank growled low in his throat, but that was the only sign he gave that he wasn’t looking forward to his penance.
She watched as he walked down the hall to his bedroom, admiring his bare back. McKenna was a big fan of a muscular back, finding it just as sexy as a man’s chest, and damn if Tank didn’t look as good going as he did coming.
She quickly erased the word “coming” from her mind because it sent her thoughts down very inappropriate paths.
Tank turned, catching her in the act of ogling his ass. He gestured to the towel. “You sure?”
She shot him a dirty look and flipped open her notebook, pretending to read something, breathing a sigh of relief when he entered his bedroom and shut the door.
