He shakes with laughter, and I love it. I love making him laugh like that, like he can’t help himself. “I knew I shouldn’t have divulged my dirty secret to you.”
“What else?”
He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “I don’t know, Jordan. It’s hard. I have a kid. She needs to be my everything, right now.”
I study him, tapping my chin and narrowing my eyes.
“Are you trying to be me right now?” he asks, amused.
“Is it working?”
“You’re a brat, you know that?”
My stomach does a pleasant roll. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”
He’s so handsome, in the low firelight, all dark hair and eyes and strong nose. Watching and listening to me like I’m important to him, too.
“Aren’t you worth having some fun?” I ask softly. “Aren’t you worth taking care of?”
“I’ve had enough fun,” he says like it’scase closed.
He’s so tightly controlled. He has everything held together, but I think deep down, he’s tired. Tate takes care of everyone, watches out for everyone, but who takes care of him?
I think about the other night, the indulgent noise he made when we cuddled, like he was finally letting himself have something.
Wishful thinking, I remind myself, even if it doesn’t seem like it. I’m trying to see something where there’s nothing. He said it himself—his daughter is everything.
“My turn,” he says abruptly. “Would you ever finish your master’s?”
His question jars me and I blink, gathering my thoughts. “Um. I don’t know.” He waits while I think. “I don’t think so. There isn’t really a point. I’m going back to the bar after this.”
He studies me like this makes him unhappy. “Still set on that, huh?”
“Yes.” Leave them before they leave you. Do not get attached to a group of people who only value you for what you can do for them.
They don’t loveme. They love what I can do for them. And the second I’m no longer useful, I’m on the outs.
My old mantras gnaw at me, though. The things I’ve been telling myself for a decade. They don’t feel so true anymore. Why would the team try to set me up with Tate if they didn’t care about me? Why would they go to all this trouble for something that doesn’t benefit them?
“I wish you’d reconsider,” Tate says quietly. “I think you’re great in this role.”
It’s so easy to keep the world at arm’s length, and then Tate looks at me likethat,so soft and gentle, and says things likeI wish you’d reconsider,and I do. I can’t help it. I picture myself stayingwith the team and get that fluttery, longing feeling in my stomach. I picture more lunches with my dad, which aren’t as bad as I would have thought. We stick to safe topics like the team and the league, but I always return to work feeling lighter.
And now I’m thinking about waking up with Tate again, and how handsome he looked. How handsome he looks right now, so close I could reach out and run my fingers through his hair.
I want to kiss him.
“I have theamatriciana,” the server says, and we break eye contact as she places the plate of pasta in front of me, “and themargherita.”
We thank her, she disappears, and Tate picks up a slice of pizza and takes a big bite. I can’t help but stare at the way his eyelids dip with pleasure. The noise that comes out of his throat is pure sin and sex.
“Say it,” I prompt, my mouth tipping into a smile.
He smiles. “Fuck, that’s good.”
I grin down at my plate, my face going warm with pleasure. Something about Tate Ward enjoying himself is so gratifying.
“How’s yours?” he asks after I take a bite.
