“That’s what these days are about,” he agrees. “And I’m going to Montana to see my cousins soon. Brayden’s the only one who still lives there, a few towns over from where I grew up, and it’s his birthday.”
We eat for a bit, and I enjoy the food and the company. I’m starting to realize that Dylan seems to enjoy everything. Most people are so sarcastic and negative.
“What are you thinking?” he asks me.
I break my stare. “Only good things.” I suppress a yawn. “Sorry. I’m still waking up. Bill rousing me at the crack of dawn has me all thrown off.”
“Let’s lie down and rest together.” He’s already moving toward the top of the bed.
Against my better judgment, I agree. “Okay.”
I crawl up next to him, he hands me a pillow, and I fall asleep almost immediately.
* * *
Dylan
I wake up before Jasalie does. For a few minutes, I lie next to her and watch her sleep. She looks younger, more at peace. That whole “back off or I’ll make you” look is missing from her face when she’s asleep and relaxed. I swallow hard as I brush a stray hair off her flushed cheek. My heart’s in my throat suddenly.
I don’t know how the hell this is going to work between us. I wanted to get to know Jasalie so badly this weekend that I never stopped to think I could actually fall for her. The way she makes me feel—like I have no control over my desire to be with her—overwhelms me. I’ve dated too many women to count, and I’ve never come close to falling in love. I don’t know why, except that nobody I dated made me want to put her over football. The truth is, none of them even came close to meaning as much to me as football does. So every one of those relationships ended, some after a few hours, some a couple of weeks.
And except for one, all ended painlessly.
I suck in a breath, not wanting to go there right now.
I turn my attention back to happier things, specifically to the woman next to me. When I’m with Jasalie, I actually stop thinking about football. Not completely, and I can’t wait to get back onto the field this summer. It’s just that for the first time, I actually care about something—someone—other than the sport I’ve been obsessed with since I was five years old. And that fact is terrifying as much as it is exhilarating. This is uncharted territory for me, and for someone who’s used to making sure he always wins, I don’t want to screw this up.
Chapter Sixteen
Jasalie
“Jasalie.”
Someone is shaking my shoulder. I swat at him.
“Jasalie. Honey.” I force one eye open.
Dylan’s looking at me.
I smile at him, and in my sleepy state, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. “You’re hot,” I say without thinking.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “I just woke up, too. We should get going.”
“Let me just check my messages.” I grab my cell phone. “Oh, crap.”
“What’s up?”
“Bill’s been trying to reach me for the past hour. I don’t know where Lilla disappeared to, but he couldn’t reach her, either. And she never texted me back, so there’s still one thing left to do.”
This sucks. Getting an earful from Bill isn’t something I want to deal with.
“What does he need you to do?” Dylan asks me.
“I have to check in with the foster home.”
I force the sentence out, trying to make it sound natural. Hopefully, Dylan won’t notice my hot face and the way I can’t look at him when I say it.
“What are you thinking about?” He reaches over and takes my hand.
