Brock’s gaze flicked to Logan’s arm over my shoulders for a second, and he tightened his jaw. It was slight, but I caught it. He cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow while still only looking at me. “Yes.”
“Fine, I’ll accept it. But, you brought clothes to go out, right?” Logan asked and made no effort to remove his arm. “We tend to hit some clubs if we win.”
“Hell to the no.” I frowned and felt Brock’s gaze on my face. “I don’tclub.”
Logan looked at Brock for a second before grinning sheepishly at me. “Well, you’re missing a huge part of being on the team. It’s all about the experience.”
“She doesn’t need to experience all that,” Brock fired back, showing me a new side from him. I wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, a power statement, or arrogance. I liked it, though. My grin widened.
“What? The partying? The women?” Logan laughed. “You were quite the ladies’ man, weren’t you, Anderson? Throwing touchdowns, breaking records and hearts.”
Brock’s expression tightened, and he dismissed Logan with nothing more than a wave of his hand. “Grace, you ready?”
He’d changed subjects so quickly I bit back a laugh.Someonedidn’t want to go down memory lane.
“See you later, Logan.” I wiggled my eyebrows at Brock, who looked way too serious for this early in the morning. “Everything good?”
“Don’t listen to him,” he said, his words harsh. “He’s making my past into a bigger deal than what it was.” He put his hand on my lower back, his signature gesture. I went up the stairs to the bus and felt a tug on my long braid.
“What was that for?” I asked as we took our normal seats in the front area of the bus. “You pulled my braid, right?”
“I like this. It’s…what’s the word? Cute?” He reached over, tugging it again. His use of the word cute stirred some emotions in me. Unwelcome emotions. I nodded at him, not looking up but rather fidgeting with my hands. I sensed his eyes on me and stiffened when he stood closer to me. “Hey, look at me.”
I did, tilting my head. His tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes searching for something on my face. I made a face, sticking out my tongue. That broke his façade, and a smile cracked out.
“You know, Logan made me sound like a dog out there. I wasn’t, not really.” He frowned, taking the seat next to me. He was defending his prior life to me. It was endearing. “I’ve always respected women. Always.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, big guy.” I chuckled, ignoring the inappropriate sour feeling in my stomach imagining him with another woman. “You were a hot, young, starting QB for a major university.” I cringed for dramatic flair. “I cannot fathom how easy it was for you.”
He sucked in one of his cheeks, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared at me. I had never realized how intense eye contact could be until I met him. “I don’t want you to think of me like Logan or the players on the team.”
I heard the words, saw the torment on his face, and the need for me to accept his truth in his eyes. For whatever reason, my response mattered to him. I smiled, patting his forearm. He might’ve been a playboy type back when he played, but life had a funny way of changing parts about ourselves that we may not have liked. Or, the opposite could happen. But with him, his maturity, he chose to focus on areas that mattered, and there was no shame in that. I cleared my throat. “Brock, do you think you are remotely the same person with the same wants, desires, needs as you were seven, six years ago?”
“No.”
“Then, why would it be fair to judge you or associate you now with that Brock? I don’t hold you in the same category as I do with Logan or any of the players on the team.”
“Good.” He gave me a stiff nod, tilting his head to the side. “You sure know a lot about life sometimes.”
“We both have had things happen to us that most people don’t go through. That changes and shapes you in a different way.” I patted his arm again, pinching it at the end. “Also, Logan is pretty. You aren’t pretty.”
“I don’t know if that’s insulting or not.” He frowned, giving me a hard look.
“Ah, now you know how I feel most of the time.” I chuckled, fluffing up my pillow to get ready for a long, peaceful nap. I splurged and bought better headphones that would hopefully block out the shitty music.
“I don’t insult you. Do you really think that?”
“Brock, you told me I look like I’m in high school.” I tilted my head to the side and widened my eyes. “That is an insult.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked worried. “You have a fresh face.”
“Hmm.” I eyed him, deciding if I accepted his words or not. “Once again,freshis not a compliment or an insult. It’s confusing, actually.”
“It’s a compliment. Damn it, woman. You’re beautiful,” he said, jaw tensing as his eyes widened. I blushed, the admittance causing an awkward giggle to escape my throat.
“Thank you. However, you look like that was the hardest thing you’ve ever said.”
“You are,” he paused and shook his head. “I’m watching something funny.” He dismissed me, pulling out an iPad.
