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CHAPTER NINE

SCRITCHY SCRATCHY

PENN

On Monday morning, I can’t be still. I’m antsy, restless…wired. I’m not a nervous person, dammit, but my skin prickles with tension. It’s ridiculous. I roll my shoulders, crack my knuckles, anything to shake it off as I walk into the training center.

I’ve been this way since leaving Addy at her door on Saturday night.

The buzz hits me before I even make it to the conference room. Adeline Evans, the new registered dietitian. Her name floats in the air, passing from one conversation to another.

Great. This tension isn’t going anywhere.

There’s talk about how hot she is, while I struggle not to lose it on my teammates.

I do not understand what’s happened to me.

First, kissing her. Then, thinking about her nonstop. And now? She’s in my work environment, where I’m supposed to focus. Those flirty eyes and that mouth—God, that mouth. How the hell am I supposed to do my job with her right here, stirring shit up inside my head?

She’s a constant itch under my skin, and I can’t scratch her out.

I push open the conference room door, and she’s the first one I see.

She looks stunning in a skirt that hits her knees, her long legs perfectly shaped, and a red blouse that highlights her amazing body.

Her hair catches the light and it’s so shiny.

I curse under my breath. This is going to be impossible.

Coach Evans introduces her to the team, for all those who missed the announcement at the picnic on Saturday, and she stands there, professional and polished. Everyone’s watching her, nodding along as she explains her approach. I should be listening, but I’m trying to get my damn thoughts in order.

Later, she meets with each of us one-on-one to discuss food preferences, goals, and needs. When it’s my turn, the air in the room shifts. She’s not the same Addy from the restaurant the other night. Adeline is quieter, more reserved…distant.

I hate it.

But then she closes her door and her whole body relaxes. “Hey,” she says, smiling warmly.

“Hey.” My shoulders loosen as she motions for me to sit across from her. “How’s it going so far?”

“Everyone’s being really great…willing to try new things and open about hearing my ideas.”

“I’m glad.”

She smiles, and for a second, we just stare at each other. Damn, when will this feeling of wanting to kiss her senseless go away? My leg starts bouncing.

She glances at her clipboard, smiling down at it. “Okay, let’s start with the basics. Any dietary restrictions?”

“No.”

She nods, jotting it down. “Food preferences? Things you don’t like?”

“I eat what’s put in front of me. Not picky. Except I do love a gas station run every now and then.”

Her pen pauses mid-note, and her eyes lift to mine, her expression playful. “That’s fine if it really is just once in a while.”

I exhale through my nose, shifting in my seat when her teeth slide over her bottom lip. I don’t think she even realizes she’s doing it, but it’s making me hard as a rock.

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, Addy.” My voice is raspy and she sits up straighter. “I’ll do my job, I’ll train hard, and I’ll eat whatever you want.”

Her grip tightens on the pen, her mouth parting. “So agreeable.” Her lips twitch as she tries to hold back her smile and fails. “I’m glad. Because fueling your body properly is very important.”

“Teach me your ways,” I say, and not gonna lie, the flirtation is as thick as my dick in here.

“Oh, I intend to.”

There it is. That flash of sass that is seriously addictive.

She clears her throat. “Well, I’ll show you the tentative plan I’d drawn up for you, and we can change anything you’d rather not do. But I’m glad you’re trusting me…because we’ll be in each other’s space all the time. It’ll really help if we’re…on the same page with all this.”

Does she not know that the thought of her in my space all the time is all I want?

I want to argue with her and make up and kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

What is this obsession with her mouth? I want to talk to her for hours and hear everything she has to say.

She has turned me into someone I don’t recognize and I don’t know up from down at the moment.

My eyes are fixated on the way she moves her lips so perfectly.

“Penn?” she says, tilting her head.

“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“Would you like to see the plan?”

I nod, and when she motions for me to move around to her side of the desk to see her screen, I realize I’m in trouble. The tent in my athletic shorts is not messing around. “Uh…”

She pauses and waits for me to say something.

Not a single useful word comes out of my mouth. I’m like a mass void, except for the very visible, very unfortunate problem bobbing against my shorts, begging to be let out.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, grabbing one of her folders and trying to move discreetly around to her side of the desk.

“Oh, good. That’s your folder. Take a look in there too, and make sure I’ve got everything right…your BMI, etcetera.”

I open the folder and nod. “Mm-hmm. Yes, helpful.”

“Penn, it’s upside down.”

I glance at the folder. Fuck. It is.

Now that I’m over here, it’s only getting worse. She smells citrusy, and the way she’s leaning forward, from this angle, I can see the tiniest hint of cleavage. Not enough because she’s buttoned too high, but?—

“You okay?” she asks.

I nod and flip the folder around and fuck me, it slips. I fumble to catch it, but it’s too late. It drops. Leaving my dick at her exact eye level.

Her gaze flicks down, her mouth dropping. And I swear on my entire career, time slows to a crawl.

Oh, hell.

She lets out a choked sound, like she’s trying to swallow a laugh, but it’s not working. I don’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, I’d be on the floor.

I hustle to get the folder off the floor, wincing, and hold up the barricade in front of me once again.

The room is silent for a few seconds.

And then…

“You good, Penn?” she asks, her voice a little too innocent.

“Fine,” I grit out, willing myself to look away, but I can’t. Instead I think about cold showers, tax season, and that time I got food poisoning at training camp. I even think of Martha, Bowie’s little scary-ass hairless dog.

She’s smiling now and it undoes any progress food poisoning has made. I sigh.

“You sure?” she asks.

Troublemaker.

“Addy.” My voice sounds strangled.

Her brows lift. “What?”

“You know what.”

She hums, tapping her keyboard, her eyes shining with amusement. “I don’t know, maybe I should redo this plan. Looks like you may have some…excess energy to burn.”

I groan and clench the folder for dear life. “Oh, if you only knew.” My jaw clenches. “Sorry, this is…inappropriate.”

“Don’t worry,” she says. “It happens to everyone. Probably.”

I give her the side-eye. “You’re enjoying this?”

“Oh, immensely.” Her cheeks bloom with color and she looks at her screen, pointing out what she’d like me to look at, and I’m grateful for the redirection.

We manage to get through the meeting without me embarrassing myself any further, and I bolt out of there, thanking her for her time.

I run a few exercises with the team before heading out. Tomorrow will be more intense and I need to sleep tonight. Ever since seeing Addy again, I haven’t gotten much.

The next night after practice and a day of staring longingly at Addy—she wears a turquoise jogger suit that makes my pulse skyrocket—I have a meeting with Mrs. Murphy, the social worker. She’s more sympathetic this time, but her words still don’t offer much in the way of a solution.

“Penn,” she says, her voice softer than before, “you have a lot in your favor, but the reality is, the court prefers a two-parent household. Without someone steady at home to help when you’re out of town, it doesn’t bode well.”

I grit my teeth. “I can provide stability. I’m paid very well and can provide Sam with anything.

My job is demanding, but I have a strong support system.

My friends have already offered their homes for Sam when I’m away.

I have a list of their names and references if you’d like to see.

My parents have offered to move to Silver Hills to help too. Sam knows and loves them already.”

She nods, taking the paper from me and jotting down a few notes. “This is good. Having a network of reliable people helps. But I want to be honest with you—judges tend to look for an environment where the child has someone consistently at home.”

I lean forward. “I get that. But there are plenty of single parents out there doing just fine.”

“Of course.” She offers a small smile. “And you might be one of them. But right now, you’re fighting against a system that prioritizes a certain kind of family structure. I’m not saying it’s always fair, but it’s what we have to work with.”

My chest tightens. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just accept that Sam might have to stay where he is forever? He’s miserable.”

She sighs, setting down her pen. “I’m saying don’t lose hope. Keep showing up. Keep proving that you’re the best option for Sam. These things take time and persistence. And you’ve proven you’re in it for the long haul. We still just have to wait for the agency to approve.”

I nod, the weight in my chest not lifting. I’m not sure it will until Sam is at my house full-time, safe and fed.

“Thanks for being straight with me,” I tell her.

“Always. We’ll keep pushing forward, Penn. I’m sorry these things take so much time.”

I leave the meeting feeling like I’m stuck in the same loop. No matter how much I want this, I can’t shake the feeling that it won’t be enough.

I won’t be enough.