Page 43 of Let You Love Me

“Three times a week!” Sophie nearly screams, eyes flying wide.

Teagan grimaces. “Is that too much?”

“I don’t know, but it sure sounds like it.”

I chuckle, glancing between them. “Three times a week is crazy,” I say, and even I can hear the humor in my voice.

“Ugh. You’re probably right.” He pats a hand over his flat stomach. “Does it show?”

Sophie tilts her head, eyes narrowing in consideration. “I don’t know. I can’t tell.” Then even more seriously: “Let me see your belly.”

I pinch my lips together to stifle a laugh. “Sophie, he doesn’t—”

Teagan lifts the hem of his T-shirt and the words die in my throat.

It’s only enough to expose his navel, nothing indecent, but the ripple of abdominals leaves me speechless.

I have no idea if he’s clenching his stomach or not.

I have no idea if I even blink while I’m soaking him in.

I don’t know much about abs because I have none.

All I know is I can’t tear my gaze away from the hard expanse of skin.

It’s not until Sophie speaks up that I manage to wrench my eyes away. “I don’t know,” Sophie says, her tone wary. “You have those weird lines and bumps all over. I’ve never seen those before." She scrunches her nose and glances up at me in question. "Is that normal, or is it from too much pizza?”

Teagan laughs at the same time I do, and our eyes meet across the table.

My cheeks flush as I cover my face with my hands for a moment, willing the blush away as I give my head a little shake. “Nope, Soph. That’s not from pizza,” I mumble through my hands. “Those are muscles.”

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m endeared by Teagan Nichols.

It’s not just his chiseled abdominals—though, my God, the image of them is seared into my brain—nor is it his persistence. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone my age, let alone one of the opposite sex, who talks to Sophie like she’s on their level. Mostpeople either talk down to her, ignore her entirely, or use baby talk when speaking to her, but not him. Instead, he treats her like she’s just another person, even stooping to eye level to greet her like he did today and the day we first met in the park. If I’m being honest, this one gesture alone makes me wish I were girlfriend material.

Because if circumstances were different . . . if we were both older . . . if Teagan were in a different place in his life . . . if he wasn’t one of my father’s tight ends . . . if I had more time and fewer responsibilities . . . then, maybe dating me would be easier. Maybe it could work.

He leans over the table, his long arms easily reaching Sophie’s menu where she colors the pepperoni slices on the cartoon pizza while he shades in the other toppings, and for the first time in a long time, I feel myself relax.

I wasn’t sure what I expected when he asked us to grab pizza with him. Awkward conversation? For him to ignore Sophie? Get annoyed with her when she spilled her milk?

Whatever I’d anticipated when I walked through the doors of Slice, so far, the evening has been none of those things. As it turns out, Teagan continues to surprise me at every turn. I might not have a ton of dating experience—okay,anyexperience—but he’s different from any guy I’ve ever met.

It makes me wonder how the hell some unattached, single college girl with zero stretch marks or a need for a babysitter hasn’t snatched him up.

“So, this must be a late night for her, huh?” Teagan asks, glancing up at me while I sip on my Coke, oddly content as we wait for our pizza.

I nod. “Yeah, later than I’d like, if I’m being honest.” I glance over at Sophie with familiar fondness. “But it’s not all bad. This job has its perks.”And giving Sophie a better life while letting my own folks finally live theirs is one of them.

“Like seeing me nearly every day?” He winks, and my stomach dips like the freefall of a roller coaster.

“Of course.” I huff, trying to shake the effect he has on me. “Can’t forget that. But there’s also the fact that I don’t start each day until after one o’clock. Or that it’s basically part-time hours with more pay than I can get anywhere else.” I shrug. “I could do worse.”

“Did you work before this?” Teagan asks.

“Yeah. Mostly just data entry stuff from home. It was super flexible, which was why I did it, but for those reasons, it also didn’t pay much. And right now, I need the money.”

Shit. Why am I telling him this?