“We’re good for now. I’ve got everything I need.” I wink at the woman behind the desk before I drop a kiss on Lucy’s head, nuzzling my nose into her hair for good measure. I hold her firmly against my side, keeping us moving in the direction of the exit. I want her all to myself. There’s nowhere in this retirement community that doesn’t have eyes and ears. My best bet for some privacy is my truck.
The desk lady flicks her gaze from me to Lucy, her brow taking the shape of a V. I don’t think there’s any way she could figure out who I’ve got tucked into my chest, but to make sure she doesn’t try, I continue with my fib.
“Some of the chili is messing with her stomach,” I tell the woman, who, according to the name placard in front of her, is named Summer. “Couldn’t handle the heat.”
I jump when I feel fingers digging in below my rib cage. Lucy’s found a sensitive spot, and I tug her closer to me, trying to cut off her access to tickling me.
“Anyway, I’m going to get her home.” I grin at Summer.
“Of course.” She flips her hair behind her shoulder. “Let me know if you ever need anything while you’re visiting your grandparents. I work the evening shift on weekdays, and I’m always up for some company.” She wags her brows suggestively at me before dropping her voice. “I can definitely handle the heat.”
I have to fight back a grimace. Having women throw themselves at me because of my profession has never bothered me. I’ve always considered it a perk of the job. But maybe my teammates are right. Tonight, with Lucy tucked under my arm, I can’t get away from Summer fast enough.
I paste on a smile. Lucy tries to take a step away from me, but I don’t want to let her go until we’re out from under Summer’s watchful gaze, so I keep her close.
“See you around,” I tell Summer noncommittally as I push open the exterior door.
Chapter 19
Lucy
TJ’s truck is parked near the front entrance, and he holds the door open for me to climb inside. By the time he seats himself behind the wheel, I have fully recovered from my momentary lapse in judgment wherein I was about to blab to TJ who I was and what I write.
I’m claiming temporary insanity and thanking the dear Lord I came to my senses before I spilled my guts. I’m also thanking Summer for reminding me that TJ—social butterfly, outgoing, big personality, flirty-with-everyone-and-their-sister TJ—is not a guy I can confide in or trust with something as major as my pen name and secret author career. This is for the best.
“So, where were we?” TJ turns in his seat and wags his brows. “Oh yes, you admitted you had a secret.”
The cab of the truck is dim and only lit by the overhead lights outside in the parking lot. Still, his blue eyes glint with mischief. On the dance floor, they had me ready to tell him anything. But not anymore.
I’ve gotten good at keeping my author career to myself. TJ is another in a long line of people whose charms and forces of persuasion I have to remain impassive to.
“Hardly,” I tell him, brushing a stray thread from the hem of my shirt. “You’re reading into what I said.”
“So you don’t have a secret?” TJ crosses his impressive arms. “Why’d you get all antsy when you were watchingTiti and Arnold?”
“I was merely commenting on how a pair like that would make for an excellent story.”
“Uh huh.” His voice is laced with skepticism. “You saidyoucould write a story about them.”
“I’m sure I could,” I say easily. “So could you. You’ve been around them more than I have. I’ve known Titi for one night, and I can already tell that she’s got a personality that could carry an entire movie franchise. Arnold was so cute being bulldozed by her.” I smile now, thinking about them. It gives me something to focus on that’s not TJ’s penetrating gaze.
I have an entire idea for Monica’s grandparents based on the pair. I can work it into a subplot about her family history, and it’ll add some levity to an otherwise difficult past she’s been working to overcome.
TJ squints at me, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly, like he’s trying to make out my sincerity. I sit up straighter. I don’t owe him anything.
Even as I think it, that hint of guilt returns, pricking at the base of my neck. Ihavebeen using TJ as inspiration for the story. He’s an unwitting accomplice. Does that mean I owe him the truth? Inside, on the dance floor, with his body pulling mine to his with confidence and ease, feeling his hand splayed on my back and against my palm, catching the scent of his shampoo and having his smile aimed at me, I would have said yeah, I’ll tell him. He wore down my defenses with his fleetness of foot and sweetness of smile.
But Summer was a good reality check. I’m nothing special to TJ. Just another girl in a long line of girls whom he’s crossed paths with. He can be my friend, and that’s all well and good, but I don’t owe him the truth. Even if he’s given me a lot of material for the next phase of my current work in progress.
“How are you feeling about your game this weekend?” I ask, breaking the silent stare-down we’re in and putting my thoughts in much more neutral territory. Thinking about my story and mymain character, who is based on TJ, in the presence of the man himself is making me trippy. What’s real? What’s fake? I don’t need another slip-up.
He blinks slowly and then eases back into his seat, as if deciding to let me off the hook. Crisis averted. “Good,” he says. “We leave tomorrow. Quick flight, and then we’ll have a day and a half to acclimate and relax before Sunday afternoon’s game.”
I’ve been trying to read up on football to learn at least the bare minimum to write a pro-football character, but I still feel woefully uneducated when it comes to TJ’s livelihood. “Are you guys, um, being picked to win?”
He shoots me a sly grin. “If people are smart, they’ll never pick against me … or the River Foxes.”
He’s laying his cockiness on thick, and usually I’d consider that an off-putting trait, but I can tell with TJ that he’s doing it in good fun. He knows he’s good. He knows his team is good. He owns that. It’s got to be a burden to carry the pressure that comes with talent and a record like the River Foxes have. I would hate to be in the spotlight and under the microscope. He doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, it almost seems to energize him.
