Page 107 of Hard to Score

She holds up a six-pack of beer and a bag of takeout food. “You need to eat, right?” Her smile is soft as she pushes herself up and angles her head to the side to stare at me.

“I’m afraid I’m not much company tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Hey,” she says. “We celebrate losses as much as we celebrate wins.”

“Are you crazy?” I laugh.

“For you, yes.” She gives me another smile before stepping onto her tiptoes and kissing me.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs. “And maybe it’s just what the doctor ordered.”

I stare at her standing under the porchlight and smile, despite feeling sorry for myself.

How did I ever deserve this? Deserve her?

“Are you going to let me in?” she asks and bats her lashes.

I chuckle and shake my head as I take the pizza box and bag of other items from her and unlock the front door.

“You really are something,” I say, walking toward the kitchen as she shuts the door behind us.

“Hey Drew, will this help take your mind off the game?” she asks, prompting me to turn around.

And when I do, the game and thoughts of it disappear completely. Brexton is standing in my foyer with her dress pooled around her ankles and nothing on but a black negligée.

I drop the pizza without seeing where it lands and cross the room to her. “I think that might be a very good start.”

* * *

“If that’s what I get when we lose . . .” I blow out a whistle as her finger traces absent lines on my chest.

“Funny.” She presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw, and I close my eyes and let it soak in.

Her being here.

Me wanting her here.

Because as much as I wanted to be left alone tonight, as much as I wanted to wallow in my thoughts over what those assholes said, Brexton showing up only served to show me I was wrong.

Her lips pressed to mine is what I wanted. Knowing she is here for me, win or lose, is what I needed. That she knew what I needed . . . knew how to love me . . . blows my mind.

She validates me.

Believes in me.

As it seems she always has.

The lingerie and incredible sex were just the cherry on the top of it.

“You want to tell me why you were so upset about a game that you had no hand in losing?” she asks. “The 49ers are a good team and they had your numbers tonight. Fair and square. Sometimes that just happens.”

I don’t respond.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“There were just some assholes after the game. Same shit, different day.”