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Paisley was more than excited to hear Kendall would be watching her all weekend. Not that she minds Ella, I don’t think, but she adores Kendall. As do I.

I’m in a better mood at practice, and I finally got a decent night’s sleep, no longer stressed about who would look after Paisley while I’m away for two nights.

I’ve been concerned for my sister and tried to keep my panic at bay while figuring out babysitters for my daughter.

Preeclampsia and trying to care for a two and five year old is more stressful than my issues.

Especially since I knew I could call on Kendall and she’d help me out.

It sounds stupid now, not wanting to use her as a babysitter.

I blame the stress. Between worrying about my sister and the baby, the pressure for two more wins to clinch a playoff berth, and not knowing how Kendall feels about me, about us, I wasn’t thinking straight.

And being in a relationship is new to me. Not that she’ll admit we’re in a relationship. But we are. We so fucking are.

Ghosting her wasn’t the smartest idea. Not that I did it intentionally.

I had zero seconds in my day when I wasn’t either at practice, in meetings, or in my own head worried about Anna and Paisley.

Darius was with me when I got the call, and since Mindy’s sister was in town, she was able to pick up Paisley on Monday.

From there, everything fell in place. Sort of.

Mindy introduced her backup babysitter to Paisley and me.

Not having any other options, I agreed to her picking up Paisley after school.

When they both got along well and I heard no complaints from my daughter, I sighed with relief and checked one thing off my list.

After practice Thursday, we had a rare late-night meeting, and even though I skipped showering and rushed home, Paisley was already in bed. Ella said she’d clean up the kitchen, and I took five minutes to shower and change before scaring my sitter away with ten hours of stink.

I’d been so shocked and happy to see Kendall in my foyer, I hadn’t thought about what the scene looked like. Me, fresh from a shower. A woman in my house.

I’m pretty sure I cleared the air about what she thought she walked in on, but I’m still out of sorts and Walker and Miles called me on my shit. It’s not like I was having women problems. Everything between Kendall and me has been great. Had been great.

She sensed the change in me this past week and I don’t think she’s in the same place I am. But I’m tired of just fooling around. I’m ready for more. Kendall, however, is fighting the connection we have.

It’s more than sexual. So much more. There’s no denying it. While pressing the brakes to our sex life is impossible—my dick and her mouth won’t allow it—I have slowed things down. I want Kendall to like me, to want more than sex from me.

I know she likes my daughter, but I want to be the reason her smile lights up a room.

When I got home last night, she was already packed up and ready to go and refused to have dinner with Paisley and me, despite Paisley's whining.

I’m not an idiot. She’s mad at me for ignoring her and booking a stranger to watch my daughter. I don’t blame her for being upset, but it’s more than that. She was jealous at first, thinking Ella and I were together.

“Can I have more pancakes, Daddy?” Paisley holds out her plate for me, her mouth smeared with chocolate chips and syrup.

“Kendall’s not going to be thrilled that you have a sugar rush so early in the morning.”

“Miss Kendall loves my sugar rushes.” She darts her tongue out, missing the glob of chocolate on her cheek. “What’s a sugar rush?”

I chuckle and add another chocolate chip pancake to her plate. “It’s when you get super crazy after loading up on sweets.”

“Pancakes aren’t sweets. They’re breakfast.”

“Not the way you eat them.” I point my spatula at her. “Chocolate chips and maple syrup are disgusting together.”

“They’re my favorite because Miss Kendall made them for me when she babysatted me once.” She dives into her pancake and asks with her mouth full, “I’m not a baby anymore so why is she babysitting me?”

“It’s just an expression.”

“But I’m not a baby. I’m six.” She sticks out her lower lip in a pout she’s recently perfected.

“That you are.” I turn off the stove and lean my hip against the counter. “Miss Kendall is coming over to hang out with you this weekend while I’m away. Does that sound better?”

Paisley grins. “I like hanging out with Miss Kendall.”

Me too, kid. Me too.

Right on time, the doorbell rings. Paisley hops off the stool and runs to the front door. “Miss Kendall is here!”

I wipe my hands on a dish towel and follow her through the house.

“You smell like a sugar factory,” Kendall chuckles. She’s on her knees, hugging Paisley, not caring about her messy face or sticky hands.

“Daddy says I’m going to have a sugar mush.”

Kendall fights a grin then glances up at me. I hate the way her grin fades.

“Sugar rush,” I correct, giving Kendall an innocent smile.

Too quickly, she looks away, focusing on Paisley instead. “I brought a bag of games and craft projects for us to work on this weekend. My sister would like you to come over tomorrow to make Christmas cookies. Would you like to do that?”

“I love cookies!” Paisley claps her hands and jumps up and down.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you about her sugar rush.”

“If I can handle a classroom of kindergartners, I can handle one adorable six year old,” Kendall says with a tone I’m not thrilled about.

Like I insulted her with my comment. I suppose I deserve to be on the receiving end of her death stare for another day or two.

But when I come back from the west coast, we’re going to have a serious talk.

I leave Kendall and Paisley and clean up the kitchen.

I should have told Kendall to come over earlier, but mistakenly told her what time I needed to leave for the stadium.

Coming over ten minutes before I need to leave sends me a message, loud and clear.

She’s pissed. She doesn’t want to talk to me. She’s making me eat my mistake.

Thursday night, she was upset about more than me not calling her to watch Paisley.

I saw how she glared at Ella. The accusations she shot at me with her eyes.

The male ego in me can’t help but like her jealousy.

It means she cares more than she likes to let on, but I can’t call her on it or she’ll retreat further behind her walls.

I make my way back to the living room where Kendall and Paisley are talking about cookies.

“It’s time for me to go, Sweet Pea.”

“Bye, Daddy.” Paisley runs into my arms and I scoop her up. She kisses me hard on the mouth. “Have fun playing football.”

“I’ll miss you, kiddo.”

“I’ll miss you too. Will you call Miss Kendall and me tonight when you’re in your hotel?”

“You know it.” She loves to see the bed I’m sleeping in when I’m away. If only her babysitter was just as interested in my sleeping arrangements. “Go finish your pancakes and clear your plate.”

It’s a lame excuse to get her in the other room so I can have a moment alone with Kendall, but it works.

When she tries to move past me, I step in front of her. I curl my fingers in the belt loops of her jeans and tug her close to me. “Sleep in my bed while I’m away. I want it to smell like you when I come home.”

Instead of pressing her against the wall and having my way with her like I want, I touch my lips to hers and leave her panting.

I’ve never wanted a woman as much or the way I want Kendall.

I only hope she feels the same.