Page 66 of Only Between Us

“I aspire to a thousand more coat closet encounters, so no.”

“Bet you do, you horn dog.”

Jax makes it to the front and accepts the football Brooks hands him.

“Are you going to catch my pass?” the little guy asks. His awe and excitement are so infectious I’m smiling, too.

“You better believe I am. Don’t you dare go easy on me.” Brooks waits until Jax lines up at the sideline, then gives me a pointed look. “Now, pay close attention, Siena. God knows you need the lesson.”

The smattering of laughter from the kids weaves with my own.

Jax throws the ball in a perfectly executed spiral, but the real beauty is the show Brooks puts on. He launches himself through the air in an exaggerated dive to make the easy catch; crashes to the ground and widens his eyes comically big as he juggles the ball, only to let it fall a foot from where he lies.

“Fumble!”

With that, they all race toward him. Brooks’s hands fly up to shield himself from their clumsy feet as they fight for the loose ball.

He’s so sweet.

Once they take off down the field, Brooks reappears at my side. “And that’s what I call a perfectly executeddivert and distract.”

“Evil genius.” I stare at his profile, the scar across his cheekbone. “You’re really good with kids. You dancing with those junior cheerleaders was real?”

Brooks digs into his pocket for two lollipops. He offers me one before sticking the other in his mouth. “Of course it was real. They’re some of my favorite humans.”

“Kids or cheerleaders?” I tease.

He pretends to think. “Were you ever a cheerleader?”

“God, no. That pyramid wouldn’t stand a chance. Have you seen my hips?”

We’re standing so close together, side by side, staring out at the field, that when he reaches for his lollipop, his arm grazes mine. “They’re burned into my mind, Pip. All I ever think about.”

A whistle goes off nearby. One of the camp volunteers calls for attention as she shuffles the kids between the sets of drills laid out on the field.

“So, you want to be a literal football daddy one day? Driving your own little team to practice in a minivan.”

“F—heckno. The kids aren’t setting foot on a football field unless there’s confetti raining down on us and the Lombardi in my hands. I couldn’t stomach watching them take a tackle. Getting hurt.”

“Says the guy who played on a knee injury.”

“Not my smartest move in hindsight.” Brooks holds my gaze seven seconds past friendly, and a whole five past appropriate for a children’s camp. “It’s what happens when I want to impress a pretty girl. I start doing stupid things.”

A warm summer breeze ruffles strands of thick waves on top of his head and causes the surface of my skin to tingle. Or maybe that’s simply the combined effect of his words and the way he looks at me like I’m his favorite toy.

I don’t think he’s playing it up for the legions of parents behind us, who can’t hear a single word of this.

Goddamn it, Brooks. This wasn’t the deal.

“You were trying to impress the Tigers,” I remind him.

“And you. Did it work?”

I almost melt into a puddle of overactive hormones then and there. Forward and confident is my catnip.

I eat it up. Would let him wine and dine me, work to impress me before eatinghimup, under better circumstances.

That breeze has done a number on his hair, throwing it forward over his forehead to skim his dark brows. He pushes it back carelessly. And he still hasn’t looked away.