Page 70 of Forever Offsides

Coffee is brewing, and I get going on the eggs when there’s a knock at the door. My heart takes flight. She didn’t cancel.

“It’s open,” I call out, and a second later, I hear the door open and shut behind her. “I’m in the kitchen.”

“Some date,” she quips. “You don’t even open the door for me.”

I chuckle lightly. “I would have burned our eggs.” I turn my head over my shoulder to her and nearly swallow my tongue. She’s in blue scrubs, but her hair is wet and down, and she’s even wearing a light smattering of makeup. I haven’t seen her in scrubs yet, and it’s a fantastic look on her.

“Damn.”

She glances down and laughs. “This is hardly my date look but thanks.”

“It works for you.”

“Can I help?”

“You can sit your adorable ass down, and I’ll make you coffee. Cream, no sugar, right?”

“You remember.”

She sounds surprised, but I pretty much remember everything we texted about. “I remember.” I stir the eggs around in the pan before I make her a cup. “You know, I never got a chance to really talk to you about your work. Do you like what you do? I know you’re ambitious and enjoy being the best at it, but do you like it? Or did you pick your specialty because of your mother?”

“I love what I do. The hours are long, and the stress is real, and frankly, I find hanging around a football field boring, but other than that, I love it.”

I smile. “Nothing boring about football, baby girl.”

“If you say so. What about you? Do you prefer playing or coaching?”

I plate up our eggs and toast and set everything down on the counter for us. Then I take the seat beside her because we’re eating in here instead of in my dining room, which is a place I doubt I’ll ever use as long as I live here. I wish I could sit across from her, but we’re doing this so I can’t complain.

“I loved playing ball. If I never earned a dime doing it, I still would have. My regret is that I never won a championship, but I was also lucky in that I was able to stay on the same team my entire career, and that kept me closer to Russel. Coaching is great too. I love working with the players, especially the young ones. I love helping them develop and become men on the field.”

“And your charity? You work with kids there too.”

“Like I said, it’s the best.”

She coughs out a laugh. “So old, Coach.”

“So young, Doctor.”

She scoops up a bite of eggs and hums around them, nodding and pointing at her plate with her fork. “These are good.”

“I told you I knew how to cook.”

We fall quiet for a minute because isn’t that what I said to her? That I didn’t expect her to tend to me because I’m a grown man who can do it for myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve been single as long as I have been and subsequently always took care of myself. Or maybe it’s because I don’t have the expectation of a wife at home raising children while I’m off at work. I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what both parties choose, but I’d never demand that of my wife unless it was what she wanted.

Russel certainly had that expectation for her, though, and didn’t like how many hours she was working and away from home.

I clear my throat. “So when you’re done with football, what then?”

We morph into an easier conversation, and it flows effortlessly. We have more coffee and linger over our empty plates. At some point we shifted until our stools were facing each other, our bodies leaned in, and we were inches apart. I make her shake with laughter and I’m not sure a minute goes by that we’re not both smiling.

She’s so easy to talk to. To be with.

And looking at her is easily my favorite thing in the world to do. She’s so goddamn smart and has me hanging on her every word.

All too soon, she gets up and heads for the door, needing to get to work, and I follow her, not wanting her to go, wanting just one last second before this bubble bursts and I’m thrust back to reality.

I haven’t kissed her in a long time. The last time I was near her like this, I was in her kitchen, but I didn’t kiss her mouth. Right now, I’m struggling to think about anything else.