“Yeah, I’m hooking up with a gorgeous, tatted-up goalie. And it’s amazing, in every single possible way.”
“As long as you keep using the present tense.” I slide my hands down her sides and slip them up under the jersey to rest them on her hips. “Then I’m good with that.”
She nods, still smiling like a fucking sex goddess. “Present tense. Got it.”
“Speaking of present tense,” I slide my hands down to her ass, palming both cheeks and squeezing. Hard. “Let’s take this party back upstairs.”
She melts against me and makes another of those noises that I’ve become addicted to hearing. But then she pulls back again reluctantly.
“I’m sorry. I need to get April.” She glances at the clock on the microwave. “God, what time is it? I told Margo I’d pick her up by one.”
I look at the clock too and realize that it’s already after twelve. “Shit. Okay.”
She steps out of my arms, and I already miss the warmth of her body. “I need to shower. And eat something for lunch that isn’t cold eggs. And do something to cover up all these hickeys.”
“Good luck with that last one.” All I can offer is a sheepish grin. “You might need a scarf.”
She groans and touches her neck self-consciously. “Damn. Margo is going to know.”
“Margo probably already knows. Your sister isn’t an idiot.”
“Great. That’s just great.” But she’s smiling as she says it.
I move to the fridge and start pulling out ingredients for sandwiches, since that’s something quick and easy that we can both have before she leaves. While I work, she disappears upstairs, and I can hear the shower turn on a few minutes later.
By the time she comes back down, cleaned up and dressed in her own clothes, I have two turkey and provolone sandwiches waiting on plates.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she says, sliding onto a barstool and immediately taking a bite. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
We eat quickly, with neither of us saying much. There’s a comfortable quiet between us now, but also an undercurrent of something else. Maybe an awareness that this weekend is ending and we’re about to go back to the real world.
A world where we’re keeping this, whatever this is, to ourselves.
When she finishes eating, she grabs her purse and keys, then hesitates near the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two. With April.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“So we should probably, um…” She gestures vaguely between us. “You know. Act normal.”
“Normal.” I grin, because I’m not sure anything has been normal between us. Ever. But this obviously isn’t the time to say that out loud. “Got it.”
She nibbles at her bottom lip. “This is weird, isn’t it? Pretending nothing has changed.”
“Yeah. A little weird. But I get it. We have to do it for all the reasons you brought up earlier, and then some.”
“Exactly.” She nods, seemingly reassured, then stands on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “You’re right. This is the right thing for us. For all of us. I’ll see you soon.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in my kitchen trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to go back to acting like she’s just my house guest and not the woman I can’t stop thinking about.
Chapter 30
Heather
I pull into Margo’s driveway and take a moment to check myself in the rearview mirror one more time. My hair is down and curled so that it falls over my shoulders—working double-time with the collared shirt I’m wearing to cover most of the evidence from my weekend escapades.
The hair, the shirt, and about a pound of concealer.
