Page 26

26

MORGAN

“You never told me what happened with your mom.” I lift my head and rest my chin on Dane’s chest to see his face.

“Hm?” He plays with my hair, staring at the strands as he winds them between his fingers.

I swat his chest playfully. “Focus.”

His eyes shift to meet mine. “That’s hard to do when you just sexed me into a coma.”

“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“And you.” I squeal as he rolls me over and hovers above me. The sheet that had been covering us slips down to rest at his hips, giving me an unobstructed view of his muscular torso. “Are the sexiest woman alive.”

He captures my lips in a kiss that makes me want to call in sick and stay in bed all day, but I can’t. It’s the morning after the Ranchers lost the second playoff game, and I can’t deny the urge to do some damage control.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a short make-out session with my hot boyfriend.

I arch my back so my chest presses into his, dragging my nails over his scalp. I tilt my head to the side to deepen the kiss. He growls with approval, and I feel the vibration all the way to my core.

I pull back, breathless. “You haven’t answered my question.”

He kisses my chin, trailing down to my neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin on my shoulder. “What question?”

I bite my lip to hold in my pleased sigh. Dane Larson knows what he’s doing. That’s for sure.

“How’s your mom? Is she okay?”

Dane lifts his head. His expression tightens. “She’s all right. Not good, but not as bad as Eli and I feared.”

I run a hand over his shoulder. “That’s good.”

He nods.

“How about your dad?” From Eli, I know the brothers are currently estranged from the man who raised them. I never asked why, but I’ve gleaned through conversations with Eli that their father doesn’t approve of Eli’s life choices. And Dane stood up for him.

Yet another reason I find myself helplessly falling for this man.

“He’s the same as always. Stubborn. Incapable of apologizing.” Dane shakes his head. “But enough about my family. There are some very particular things I’d like to do with you this morning, Morgan Caldwell, and thinking about my family is a mood killer.”

I laugh as he dives back down for a kiss, letting him succeed for a single second before I push his chest and attempt to slide out from underneath him. “As tempting as that sounds, you know I have to get to work.”

He groans but rolls on his side to let me go. “And here I thought you liked me.”

I more than like you.

I swallow the words and shoot him a wink. “I’ve got to keep you on your toes. Otherwise, you might lose interest.”

“Trust me.” His gaze turns serious. “There’s no risk of that happening.”

My heartbeat stutters. I turn to walk into my closet to prevent him from seeing my blush. Dane isn’t shy about saying how much he likes me, and I’m not used to a guy being so open.

Aaron withheld affection depending on whether he was happy with me, and guys in the dating game were always hesitant to come off as too eager out of fear of rejection.

Dane has absolutely no fear of rejection. Or maybe he does, but he’s one of those evolved humans who go after what he wants, regardless of risk.

I pick out a pair of black slacks and a baby blue blouse. I walk back into my bedroom and see Dane standing in front of my dresser, looking like a Calvin Klein model in a pair of black boxer briefs.

“Is this your mom?”

I lift my eyes from his ass. He smirks when I meet his gaze. I smile back and then look at the framed photo he’s pointing at. It’s me and Mom in front of the Dallas Ballet’s poster for The Nutcracker when I was sixteen.

Aside from losing my baby face, I looked the same. I’d already reached my full height, and I’d been training as a volleyball player for years, which gave me an athletic build I still have.

“Yeah, that’s her.” I walk over to stand next to him.

“You two look alike.”

My smile is weak. “Yeah, we get that a lot.”

Mom and I have the same wavy brown hair and wide eyes. I inherited her delicate nose, smooth jawline, and height.

The main difference between us is that while my physique is toned and firm, hers is lithe and slender. She’s maintained her dancer’s body even after all these years, but she would disagree.

“What’s that face for?”

I blink and wince when I realize Dane’s watching me. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

I sigh. “My mom is a victim of her generation’s diet culture. We look alike, but our bodies are so different. Growing up, she couldn’t help but make comparisons.” I shrug. “It took me a long time to accept that I’d never be as skinny or graceful as her.”

“Are you crazy? Your body is incredible.”

I huff a weak chuckle. “Of course you’d say that.”

Dane turns and wraps an arm around my waist. I squeal as he lifts me with one arm, pressing me into his chest. I grip his shoulders and laugh. “What are you doing?”

He guides one of my legs over his hips. His arousal presses against my center. I bite back my moan. “You’re an absolute smoke show, Morgan. I don’t like hearing you talk bad about yourself. I won’t allow it.”

My heart melts.

“Trust me, I love my body.” My body is strong and healthy, and it allowed me to play the game I loved throughout college. My entire career path is based on the desire to help others love their bodies, too. I want to show people how to provide their bodies with the proper fuel and nutrition for peak performance.

“Then what is it?” He lifts me higher. I wrap my legs around his waist and lean back to meet his gaze as he holds my weight effortlessly.

I contemplate how honest I should be. It’s a little early for a deep conversation like this. Dane’s open expression prompts me to trust his words. He cares about me. He wants to know this part of me.

I let him in. “I wish my mom loved her body, too. I wish a lot of women and girls loved their bodies. Men are much more likely to hire nutritionists because they aim to increase their muscle density or athletic performance, even if they aren’t professional athletes.”

I shake my head and continue, “Most women aren’t wired the same way. It’s hard to see toxic health trends on social media that promote being skinny over healthy. I witnessed the same with my mom growing up, and I’m so lucky I had sports to teach me that way of thinking wasn’t good. But so many women don’t have that positive influence. And I hate it.”

“Hm,” Dane hums thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought of being that influence?”

I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

He lifts a shoulder and adjusts his grip on my thighs. “You’re a registered dietician and an athlete. You’re also young. Have you ever considered creating a business that serves women in their health and fitness journey?”

“You mean become an influencer?” I snort.

“Maybe. Or maybe just a professional specializing in creating nutritional plans for women, both athletes and non-athletes. I’m not a business-minded guy, but I’m sure there’s a need for someone like that. And with your knowledge and credentials, you could fill that need.”

My lips part in surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone believe in me so much. Sure, my family is supportive and encouraging, but the way Dane speaks with such confidence makes me feel incredible. He makes me feel like anything is possible.

His forehead furrows. “What’s that look for?”

I smile softly. “I just like you,” I admit, taking a page from his book about not hiding my feelings. “I like you a lot.”

His lips curl. “Good. Because I hate to break it to you, Caldwell, but you’re stuck with me.”

God, I hope so.

I run my hands in his hair and dip my head to kiss him. “I’m counting on it.”

“Do you have the latest macro plans for incoming rookies trying out for the team next season?” My coworker, Nate, asks me from the cubicle behind me.

I spin in my rolling chair to see him leaning over the gray half-wall separating our desks. “Yes, I emailed it out this morning.”

“Weird.” He frowns. “I didn’t get it.”

“Let me check that I included you in the recipients.” I turn back to my computer and open my email.

“Ugh, the internet is down.” I refresh the page and see that the email I sent this morning is sitting in my outbox.

“Try restarting your computer?” Nate suggests.

I’m not IT, but I don’t have any other ideas. I power off my computer and wait for it to come back on.

Nate hovers over the cubicle wall. “So… that was a crappy game last night, huh?”

My lips flatten. “Yeah, it was.”

“Think Larson will be able to play in two days in North Carolina?”

“I hope so.”

A loaded silence follows. My computer dings when it powers back on.

“Do you think the team will push his trade request through after this mess? I hope not. Last night proved we’d be screwed without him.”

I type in my credentials. “What makes you think Dane put in a trade request?

“Oh, shit. You didn’t know?”

I straighten and face my coworker. I tell myself to keep my composure, but my emotions are running high. I’ve been on edge all day, waiting for someone to ask about Dane punching Aaron. Part of me even expected Dr. Gaines to call me into his office to discuss the matter.

But nothing could have prepared me to hear Dane could be traded.

Calmly, I ask, “What have you heard?”

Nate’s features tighten. “I’m sorry, Morgan. I thought you’d know, seeing as you’re dating Larson.”

“What trade request, Nate?” I press. “What are you talking about?”

To Nate’s credit, he looks visibly uncomfortable. He wasn’t looking to cause trouble. Too bad for him; I’m not letting him off without telling me everything he knows.

“Before playoffs, there was a rumor that Dane’s agent told the Ranchers he wanted to explore trade options,” Nate reveals.

My stomach twists. “What else?”

The way Nate avoids my gaze tells me there’s more.

“Uh. Well.” He runs a hand over his short hair. “I heard he only put in the request after he heard he was being given a team nutritionist. Apparently, he wasn’t happy about it.”

That’s not news.

Dane was polite enough when I gave him his first modified meal plan, but it was obvious he didn’t see the need to change his diet.

I don’t know if Dane made the trade request after learning I was the new nutritionist assigned to him, but even if he did, he and I were hardly on good terms. Through my coworkers, I’ve learned Dane wasn’t the only player unhappy with the organization’s shake-up in training and nutrition plans. I’m sure Dane isn’t the only one who questioned whether the team would still be a good fit.

But that was weeks ago, and things have been going well for Dane and the team, barring the last two games.

Does Dane still want to be traded?

He’s not from Texas. Both he and Eli told me Minnesota was their favorite team growing up. And his family lives there. I couldn’t blame him if he wanted to move to be closer to them, especially given his mom’s health.

But what would that mean for us?

It’s a selfish thought, but I can’t imagine doing long distance, not even with someone as incredible as Dane. We’ve only been dating for a short time, and I’m already struggling to imagine my days without him.

I’d squashed the insecure thoughts that tried to rear their ugly heads when I saw that picture of him and his friends. I knew he was coming home to me. I trusted he wouldn’t do something to ruin what’s between us.

But what would happen if we lived in separate states?

Would I be mature enough to see my long-distance boyfriend out on the town with beautiful women after weeks, or even months, since we last saw each other?

I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I would.

If Dane decides to push for a trade or the team opts to do it themselves, it will only be a matter of time before we’re over.

I want to ask Dane about it, but I remember the drama we’re in. He has enough on his plate with his family and now the problems with the team—problems I feel responsible for.

I don’t know what our future holds, but I know I can’t create more drama for Dane by asking about it—not now.

Then when?

I don’t know.

I really don’t know.