He doesn’t need to know that what I mean ishewas entertaining. Because he was the only player I could focus on.
His smile is broad. “We aim to entertain.”
“I could tell,” I say, letting myself smile.
“I didn’t figure you’d actually tune in.”
I shrug. “Didn’t have much else to do.”
“Come on, a woman like you with no social life? I don’t believe it.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug again. “I burned every bridge I’ve ever had, and it’s not like I’m flying home to see my family regularly. My friends who haven’t disowned me live in different corners of the country; I talk to them often, but not in person. I’m kind of a lone wolf. Or whatever the female version of a lone wolf is. Jane Wolf? Wolfette?”
I snap my mouth shut.What am I even saying?
TJ laughs, and I steel myself. I’m used to people making fun of me, but when I meet his gaze, his expression is open and kind, and my shoulders relax.
“I’ve never thought about the name of a female wolf,” he says, like he’s actually considering what I was saying as a valid point and not something ridiculous my frazzled brain blabbed on about.
“I think maybe girl wolves are just called wolves.” I splay my hands out in aI have no clue what I’m talking about, so ignore megesture.
“Either way. I like Wolfette. You’ll be a wolfette in my eyes from now on.” He winks, and something snaps and sizzles behind my ribcage. “Let me go get our dinner.”
TJ serves me a plate full of delicious-smelling chicken, a heaping portion of Caesar salad, and, as promised, a bunch of juicy green grapes. He stops to pray before we eat, which is unexpected, but sweet, and then he raises his wine glass. “To finding my Cinderella.”
I dip my head, but clink my glass with his before adding a toast of my own. “To a River Foxes victory.”
“Cheers.” TJ holds my gaze, and if I were writing this scene into a story, I’d have included candles on the table so I could comment on the way his blue eyes sparkled in the flickering light of the dancing flames. Instead, we’re seated at his tiny kitchen table beneath a chandelier from the nineties that casts the room in an orange glow. I don’t mind it one bit. We sip our wine and dig in. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I had food in front of me.
“Can I get you anything else?” TJ asks when I polish off my last bite of chicken.
“No. I’m good. Thank you.” I dab my mouth with my napkin. “I ate like a pig. Or a wolf … ette, I guess.”
He chuckles. “I’m glad. Proves that I know my way around my grill.”
“I didn’t eat much today. I was nervous about meeting you.”
He swirls his wine around in his glass. “Why?”
I may as well be honest.
“Because you’re you, and I’m me. I didn’t know how you’d react.”
He keeps his gaze on me. “I’m surprised, but in a good way.”
Even without the candlelight, the air in the kitchen takes on a different type of charge. Like the electrons are winning out and all the molecules between us are crackling.
“I still don’t want anything more from you,” I hurry to clarify, because this feels dangerous, and I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.
“I don’t recall offering you anything more than dinner.” He smirks.
I press my lips together. “Right. Of course.”
Why am I assuming TJ Wilson would want anything to do with me romantically? Hello, Lu. Have youseenthe women he dates? They’re usually blonde and gregarious and gorgeous.
“That doesn’t mean—”
The back door to TJ’s house swings open with a bang.
