Page 92 of Hard to Score

He loves me.

He’s in love with me.

He drops to his knees in front of me. As I sit there stunned, he frames my face with his hands and whispers, “I’m in love with you, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like maybe I have been my whole life.”

And when his lips meet mine, it’s the softest, most innocent of kisses, but it means more than any other kiss I’ve received in my lifetime.

He leans back to meet my eyes as if to make sure I’m okay with everything he’s just said, and it’s only then that I realize I haven’t responded to him with words.

Right as I start to speak, Charley’s little voice speaks up beside us. “Uncle Drew,” she murmurs in a groggy voice. “Can you not kiss her? That’s gross.” We both chuckle. “And can I go to my bed now?”

“Of course,” he says as he leans over and presses a kiss to her temple before carrying her up the stairs.

I startle and then smile when I hear them on a baby monitor I never even noticed on the kitchen counter. Her murmured good nights, his sleep tights.

What man has a baby monitor for when his niece decides to spend the night? Come to think of it, a room for her too? But now that I think back to how Charley talked about her Drew and Charley date, this seems like a pretty regular thing.

God, what a good man.

And in case everything Drew just said to me didn’t make me love him, the way he is with Charley did.

I’ve almost drifted off on the couch when he comes down the stairs. He stands there and stares at me, his expression one of disbelief.

Is he regretting what he told me? Is he going to make excuses and take it back?

“I don’t have much to give you, Brexton,” he says as he makes his way across the room and sits down on the couch beside me. “I have a family who’s fucked up. I have a career that is mediocre if not embarrassing at best. I have a shit ton of baggage that I can’t unpack any more than I already have. And I have parents who might never accept the fact that I’m in love with you. I’m so . . . torn. To have worked my whole life to try and make him happy and finally the first time I feel happy, it’s with you. A Kincade.” He laughs, but it’s self-deprecating at best.

I cringe. There is so much in that last statement, how he thinks his career is mediocre, embarrassing. That’s rough enough. But that bit about his parents? They used to think of me as one of their own kids. That was how our families were together. Would they really think of me like that? With disdain? That his choice of me is a poor one? Do I deserve that?

I crawl into his lap, rest my head against his chest, and simply hold him tight.

“I’d never ask you to pick between me and your family,” I murmur knowing I never could either.

“I know. I just . . . I know how I feel and it’s the scariest, most fucking real thing I’ve ever felt, and it’s overwhelming. I thought if I held all of this back from you, it would let me keep my distance, it would keep this a little less everything . . . but I can’t. This is me, Brexton. Warts and all.”

I lift my face so he can see me, so he can hear me. “I’ve fallen for you too, Drew Bowman. I think I’ve been falling for you my whole life. It’s only now I realize that I’ve compared everyone I’ve dated to the man I thought you’d grow up to be. Little did I know, that man was even more incredible than I’d imagined.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

DREW

“I HAVE TO GO,” BREXTON whispers as I hold her tightly against me.

“No,” I groan.

“Yes. Little Miss Charley is going to get up soon and wonder why Uncle Drew’s friend Brexton is sleeping in his bed.” She chuckles and fuck that sound makes me harder than I already am. “Remember, boys and girls aren’t supposed to have sleepovers together.”

But she has a point. One I’d like to ignore but a good one nonetheless.

I sigh. “Don’t go yet. It’s still dark out. Just five more minutes?”

She snuggles into me, her hand on my chest. “Okay, but no funny business.”

“Promise,” I murmur against the crown of her head as my finger traces letters on her hand.

It takes her a few seconds to catch on to what I’m doing. To try and figure the letters out.

“ILYB?” she says, looking up at me with her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed in the most adorable of ways. But I see the minute she gets it. The four words. Her expression softens and a smile crawls onto those gorgeous lips of hers.