Page 41 of Only Between Us

“Is that what you’re wearing to the scrimmage?”

Siena shimmies in her robe. “I figure if you turn into a lame duck out there, I can flash the other players to distract them.”

“You flash, I score?”

As if seeing Siena Pippen naked wouldn’t straight up turn me into football roadkill.

“That’s what I call teamwork, baby.” She heads for her bedroom. “I got caught up getting things done for work and then had to post a few pictures online wearing a dress for a brand deal. Take a seat, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Are you getting enough brand deals, then? To cover whatever you need the money for.”

She turns, tips her head to the side. She’s surprised I care enough to ask, and frankly, so am I.

“You mean you haven’t been stalking my account,WhatIsAFootballDaddy01?”

“Not since I made that account to find you.”

Her lips press together. Probably remembering the unhinged DMs I threw at her in the days after we met.

“In a totally unfortunate turn of events, all the bigger offers are from swimsuit companies, seeing as they’ve figured out I work on the bay. I’ve been turning those down.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who’d be shy in a swimsuit.”

“You’d be right. But I figured the Rebels wouldn’t like seeing your fake girlfriend’s ass all over social media.”

No, but nothing could get me to fire up that app faster.

“I’ve been sticking to cute clothes or makeup I’d buy for myself, that kind of thing,” she continues. “It’s not much, but it adds up if I do enough of them. And I figure it’s on the safe side for the Rebels.”

My chest floods with warmth, the same way it does every morning I watch her let her elderly neighbor’s dog out. “How much money have you turned down?”

“Oh—it’s insane. I told them allnoand one company upped their offer to ten grand per post, for a three-post deal. I thought they weremaking fun of me for a minute.” She laughs, heading for her bedroom. “Be right back. Have a cookie while you wait.”

She motions to the open box of fudge cookies she’d been snacking on before I showed up, and there’s no way I’m helping myself to one of those. I was raised on the best baked goods from my mom’s bakery.

Instead, I clench the edge of her kitchen counter, my throat burning with something hot and thick.

She’s turning down five-figure offers for my benefit.

Without being asked to.

Without even knowing this was something I’d struggled with before, or what it would mean to me if she did it. After she admitted she can’t afford a new car. When she’s resorted to fake-dating me for money in the first place.

Top that with the revelation about her ex-fuck-buddy, and Siena’s showing me more loyalty than Naomi ever did.

My head is a mess of guilt. Confusion. I wonder if I’m getting ahead of myself, being so naively hopeful that a woman would choose me over her own personal gain. Putting Siena on a pedestal where she doesn’t belong.

“So are you nervous for today?” Siena calls from her room.

I scrub my face with my hands. “I’m a four-time all-star and I’ve played in three Super Bowls. I’m not supposed to get nervous over an off-season scrimmage.”

“And I’ve been riding my bike for years. Still get nervous taking her out some days.”

I sort through her kitchen drawers until I find a knife and make my way back to her front door to get a look at this lock. It only takes a couple seconds of fiddling with my makeshift screwdriver to fix the sticking latch; you’d think the least that idiot Aidan could have done within theirarrangementwas fix the damn thing for her. Made sure she had a door that locked when she went out. While she slept.

Something claps down on what sounds like a wooden surface in her bedroom. “Well? Are you nervous, Brooks Attwood?”

I wander into the living room, taking a breath as I browse the wall of photos hanging behind her couch. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s the moment of truth in a way—I haven’t played at this level in years.”