Page 75 of Let You Love Me

“Once football season is over, I’ll have a lot more time to help,” he says.

My eyes return to his. He says it like it’s a given. But I won’t hold my breath. After the season ends, he’ll be exhausted and ready to just be a normal college student.

By then, he’ll want to cut loose. Party and start dating. Do all the things other guys like him do in their spare time that he can’t do right now because of his commitment to football, and none of those things include helping a single mother remodel her house.

I hum a noncommittal sound under my breath. We might be “friends,” but friendship also has boundaries. What will it be like once he’s dating someone and he brings her around? How will I feel when I see him with a girl on his arm?

My stomach sours at the thought.

“Did you guys have dinner yet?” he asks.

I run a hand through my hair, ignoring the wave of nausea my train of thought has brought on. Food is the last thing on my mind but I know Sophie is probably hungry, and she’s already turned her nose up at the snacks I brought.

“Um, no. We came straight here from the field. I was too worried the contractor might get here early and not wait. What about you? If you’re hungry, maybe we could pick something up or order . . .” I trail off when he holds up a finger and turns,bending into his car to retrieve something before he straightens, a large, insulated bag in hand.

He holds it out like a trophy and gives it a little shake. “Figured as much, so I hurried like hell back to the dorms. Hope you like what is probably now lukewarm mac and cheese.”

My heart flutters. “You made mac and cheese?” I say, dumbly staring at the bag.

He nods, digging inside to reveal a couple plastic forks. “Brought some plasticware and paper plates, too. Figured you didn’t have anything here yet.”

I stare at him completely immobile. Dumbfounded. If I don’t say something soon, he’ll start to wonder what’s wrong with me. Maybe there is something wrong, because it’s beyond ridiculous that I’m getting heart palpitations over a little box of carbohydrates covered in powdered cheese sauce. But I am. My heart totally does a backflip behind my ribs while butterflies erupt in my chest.

How many times has anyone ever taken the time to think about us—meandSophie?

Never.

But it’s not the first time Teagan’s done it, either.

My gaze lifts to meet his again while I tread in a pool of emotions so over my head, I fear I might drown in them. If I’ve learned one thing about the man in front of me in the weeks I’ve known him, it’s that Teagan Nichols is a man of action, not just a man of words. He doesn’t just talk a good game. He says one thing and then follows through, and I have no doubt he’s like this. Every. Single. Time.

A few weeks ago, when I turned down his advances and my father warned the team off me, he told me he was going to be the best damn friend I’ve ever had. And ever since, it seems he’s dedicated to the cause, completely determined to make good on that promise.

He takes care of the people in his life.

He thinks about them.

And that’s more than I can say about most people.

I glance away from him for a moment, trying to get a rein on my emotions. I’m on the verge of tears over something as silly as macaroni.

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only moments, I’m confident I can speak without my voice wobbling. “I’m sure we’ll love it. Come on.” I nod toward the house, then call out for Sophie. “The contractor should be here soon.”

I scrawl my signature on the job bid before me as Jason from Redd’s Roofing explains they’ll start on the roof at the end of next week with a full crew, which means it will take them about three days to finish the work. I nod, more than a little thrilled they’ll be starting so soon and thank him as he takes the contract in hand. After he removes the top sheet and hands me the yellow copy, I walk him to the door.

A burst of warm autumn air hits me when I open the door. It’s the perfect night for porch sitting, an idea I file away for later as I return to the kitchen where I find Teagan and Sophie still perched in the same spot since our meager meal of mac and cheese.

I watch Teagan help Sophie slide a brightly colored plastic bead on the string of elastic from the bracelet kit I brought to keep her occupied while we’re here. They’ve been at it for almost an hour, and his patience astounds me. I think they’ve made about a dozen bracelets already, and if I know Soph, she could make a dozen more.

Though Sophie has always been an easy-going child, I have to admit, it was nice knowing she was taken care of while I spokewith the roofer instead of having to split my focus. The freedom allowed me to get his opinion on a couple of other things the house needs.

Sophie instructs Teagan to putonlyheart beads on this one in a bossy tone only a four-year-old can master, and I smile as I slide out my phone to check the time. Almost eight o’clock, just past Sophie’s bedtime.

“Hey, baby, the contractor just left, and it’s past your bedtime. We should probably go get your bed ready.”

“But I’m not tired,” Sophie insists in a tone I recognize is perilously close to morphing into meltdown territory.

I grimace inwardly. The last thing I want is to deal with a tantrum in front of Teagan.