Tank chuckled at her sudden embarrassment, then ran the back of his fingers over her soft cheek. “You blush real easy, Mouse.”
“We’ve already discussed that, as well as the fact that I hate it. Yet you seem to go out of your way to make me blush.”
He chuckled. “Because it’s cute.” Then he cupped her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, when he merely held her gaze.
“Honestly?” he said. “I have no idea.”
“This isn’t part of the plan.”
Tank lifted one shoulder casually. “I’m shit at following rules, Mouse, but I’ve done everything you told me to. I haven’t strayed, haven’t done anything that would bring bad press.”
“I know that,” she whispered. “So don’t ruin it.”
He wanted to pull those glasses off and kiss her. Wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. But she was right. Kissing her in front of the cameras would be a step backward, and he wasn’t going to risk his career for an ill-advised kiss.
Protecting his contract was why he’d gone the extra mile at every single one of the promo ops, why he’d remained secluded in his condo, alone, night after night. Why he hadn’t replied to any of the countless texts—sexts—from Lara, who was now convinced that viral video was some sort of sign they should change their status from booty calls to proper dating.
Regardless of all that, he kept thinking about how things between him and McKenna were going to return to normal. After spending so much time with her, he hated that, with the suspension over, their time together would be limited. He’d gotten used to having her around, and he genuinely enjoyed her company.
“I’ll behave on one condition.”
McKenna attempted to give him a stern look, but she was too flustered by their close proximity to sell it. “You remember that I’m the one calling the shots.”
He merely chuckled in response, then waited her out. Because if he’d learned anything about McKenna, her curiosity always got the better of her.
“What condition?” she asked, just as he knew she would.
“You have dinner with me before the Tampa Bay game on Friday.”
She gave him a funny look. “You always eat with your teammates when we’re on the road.”
“Yeah, well, on Friday, I want to eat with you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to you. Going to be weird not talking to you every day.”
Mercifully, she accepted that answer. “Yeah. As much as it pains me to admit, I’ve gotten used to you, too. I should probably consider starting my therapy again.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, messing up her hair playfully. “Minx,” he teased, while she laughed and tried to bat his hand away.
Tank couldn’t recall exactly when the two of them started touching each other so much, but somewhere in the midst of the past two weeks, the personal space between them shrank as he frequently pulled her ponytail or tickled her, while she touched his hand as she talked or punched his arm whenever he made a smart-ass comment.
“I really am cold,” she said, as she finally broke free, turning away from him and heading back in the direction of her car.
Tank caught up to her in three long strides, amused by her low growl when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders again.
Now though, like before, she didn’t push him away.
They returned to the car and the ride back to his place was made in silence, though it wasn’t awkward. Instead, they listened to the radio, lost in their own thoughts.
When they got to his place, she pulled in front of the entrance and put the car in park. She didn’t turn it off, so he figured it was pointless to see if she wanted to come in for a nightcap.
“If I don’t see you before tomorrow night’s game, good luck,” she said.
He bopped her nose playfully. “Thanks. Night, Mouse.”
