“In a relationship?”
Another shake.
“Gay?”
“Nope.”
Lucy rubs her chin. “Give me a hint.”
“Let’s say ... I didn’t just meet the dudes at yoga. We came together ’cause ... they’re teammates.”
“Teammates of what?”
I shake my head again, biting back a grin. “Guess.”
Lucy narrows her eyes, studying me to solve the puzzle. I cannot believe she hasn’t sussed this out yet, but I’m not going to judge her for believing my story from the jump.
“I hate guessing games. I’m no good at them.” Her brows draw together. “Teammates, teammates ...” she muses, wheels in her brain turning. “You’re not married, not in a relationship, not gay, and they’re your teammates. Of what, Harris? What am I missing?”
I rub the back of my neck, my grin fading a little. “I’m a professional football player.”
For a second, Lucy just stares at me. Not a word. Not even a blink. Like she’s been frozen in place.
Then her eyes go wide, her mouth falling open. “Wait—what? You?”
“Yeah.”
“And Miles and Dex and Elijah—”
“Yep.”
“Miles and Dex and Elijah arefootballplayers?”
Uh-huh. “All of us.”
Her jaw drops even lower, and I’m convinced she’s about to burst out laughing. Instead, she just blinks at me as if I’ve told her I’m actually an alien from another planet.
“You’re a football player?” She shakes her head, eyes darting around the room like she’s trying to piece together the last few days of knowing me. “You told me you were a lumberjack.”
“False,” I correct her. “You assumed I was because of my size. I told you I was here for work, and I am, but not to roll logs.”
“But ...” Lucy rubs her temples. “Why would you let me believe you were alumberjackthis whole time? Now I feel like a dumbass!”
I scratch the back of my neck, already bracing myself. “Honestly? I thought it was funny.”
Her mouth falls open. “Funny?You’ve been out here chopping wood for a mock survival competition as ajoke? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Lucy smacks me on the arm.
“Hold up now,” I say, raising a finger. “In my defense, I thought I’d be good at chopping wood.”
She bursts out laughing at my stupidity. “You thought you’d be good at it?”
“I figured it couldn’t bethathard!” I grin. “You swing the axe, the log splits. End of story.”
Lucy leans forward, still giggling. “And you didn’t think maybe you should tell me the truthsooner?”
Obviously I could have. But where’s the fun in that?
