Page 25

twenty-two

. . .

[India]

After the third game in the series, in which the Terrors lose to the Chicago Anchors, I’m on the gravel track around the field wrapping up my final interview when I notice Declan near the dugout.

A group of young women surround him. College-aged girls who are old enough to admire a man just below their father’s age.

Like an intern and a married man lusting after one another.

When one co-ed touches Declan’s forearm while he’s signing something for her, I see red.

Before I give myself a second to think, I rush toward my cameraman, drop my mic, and follow Declan who is disappearing into the tunnel leading to the locker room.

“Coach,” I cry out, knowing I’m in foul territory. Media isn’t allowed to enter the tunnel like this. We have a separate entrance for press rooms outside the privacy of the player’s space .

He doesn’t turn around.

“Declan,” I call louder, as if he didn’t hear me in the narrow space, his name echoing off the cinderblock walls.

He turns and approaches me so quickly, I stumble backward, and he reaches out to catch my upper arm before I fall over.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is hushed as he glances over my head toward the open field and then toward the dark hallway leading to the underbelly of the park.

“Why was that girl touching you?”

Declan’s brows lift so high, his forehead furrows. “What girl?”

“That cute little college co-ed touching your arm while you were signing an autograph.” Or was he handing out his phone number? I’m being irrational. I know I’m not thinking straight. This is Declan.

He isn’t a cheater. He isn’t sneaking around. He isn’t . . . tied to me.

His mouth slowly twists, and he spins me so my back hits the cinderblock tunnel wall. Glancing left and right once more before addressing me, he looks me directly in the eyes. “Have I given you any indication that I’d be interested in a twenty-something year old?”

“No,” I snap. “But I don’t know you now.”

Declan sighs, keeping his hands on my shoulders. “But you know me well enough to know that is not something I’d go for.”

“Because Montgomery is so close in age?” His daughter is only a few years shy of entering college.

Declan narrows his eyes. “Because my sights are set on someone a little closer to my own era.”

I stare up at him as he towers over me. With my head tipped back and his eyes so intense, I swear he’ll kiss me, right here, right now, in this tunnel. Where I’m forbidden to be present, and he shouldn’t be looking at me like I could be his next meal.

Slowly, he releases my shoulders and stands to his full height, putting some distance between us. “This isn’t really about me, though, is it? This is about him.” He practically growls.

He’s referring to my ex and he isn’t wrong. The streak of jealousy that bolted through me forces me to hang my head.

“Indie. I’m only going to say this once. I’m loyal to a fault. Which means I’m dedicated to you. To us, whatever we are.”

Slowly, I lift my head, hesitantly meeting his eyes. “And what are we?”

“Whatever you want us to be.” Leaning forward again, he sets one hand on the brick beside my head. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes search my face. “I’ve already missed too many opportunities with you. Too many years.”

He swallows thickly. “Truth. I’m not letting another chance pass.”

All the air in my lungs whooshes out of me. If there wasn’t a brick wall at my back, my weak knees would cause me to collapse.

“I want to date you,” he admits.

“You know why I can’t,” my response is a strangled whisper. This job is too important to me. My career could be on the line. I’m not risking my dream, my future.

Yet everything in me wants to shout from the roof top .

. . Hands off! This man is mine. And it isn’t fair that I can’t touch him in public.

Make my statement and stake my claim. It isn’t fair that I can’t smile as wide as I want at him across the field, even give him a flirty wink, for fear I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard to gain. It isn’t fair to me or him.

“I do.” He sighs, not in exasperation but in understanding. He’s been so fucking understanding.

“And I get that you’re scared. Of me or us or whatever. But I’m telling you I want you. I want to be with you, and all I can give you is my word. There isn’t anyone else, Indie. Not now.”

Has there ever been? Because he’s been single his entire life. He didn’t marry the mother of his child and Isaiah never mentioned a long-term girlfriend.

I’m the one who got married at my parents’ insistence. And I’d loved Malakai, or so I thought.

But staring up at Declan, towering over me once again, I’m not so sure I’ve known love. Because love doesn’t burn like my ex or betray like my father. Love simmers and sparks and sets off fireworks.

“I’m not playing a game with you,” he adds. “Only honesty between us.”

Declan presses off the wall and like a ball thrown toward a bat, I lean forward, following his retreat.

“I’m not playing a game either,” I whisper.

“Truth.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “I want you in my bed. But I also want to spend time together.” As if absentmindedly, his hand covers his heart like he’s swearing an oath.

“I—” In the flash of a second, I wonder what I’m so afraid of with him .

He isn’t asking me to give up my career or questioning the value of my job. He isn’t demanding I consider alternative futures. He’s asking for time.

And that might be my real fear.

Because if I give him time, he’ll steal my heart again.

“What would time look like?” I can’t date him in public. I’m not willing to risk the implication. Sleeping my way upward. Or using our friendship to some advantage. Not to mention, there’s no fraternizing with the team allowed.

“Everything can be private.”

“Like me in your bed?” I tease although the question comes out as a croak .

Declan narrows his eyes at my sarcasm. “Like you come to my house. Or I go to yours. I don’t need my business all over the media, and I’m not willing to risk yours either.”

He pauses while I process just what he’s said. He actually wants to spend time together that doesn’t involve us having to go anywhere in public.

“Dare,” Declan grinds out. “Invite me over.”

I’m typically up for a challenge. I’ve become a female sportscaster in a field traditionally dominated by men, yet slowly accepting women.

I got divorced because I knew I deserved better than a cheating husband, participating in antiquated opinions about a driven woman.

My ex thought he should have been my first priority when the first thing he said he loved about me was my independence. My determination to succeed.

And standing before me is a man who simply wants my time, and nothing else from me.

Not to give up my job. Not to forgo my future.

“Okay,” I whisper, leaning my head against the cinder blocks at my back one more time. I have no idea what I’m agreeing to, but this is one opportunity I’m not letting slip through my fingers.

Declan Wylde wants me. At least for now.

Surprised as much as me that I’ve just agreed to spend time together, Declan leans forward one more time, arm extended beside my head.

“Seal it with a kiss.” His mouth curves, salacious yet sexy.

“Now, you’re really pushing it,” I state, poking my finger into his chest.

“I’ll be pushing, alright.” He winks. Then his expression turns more serious, and he presses off the wall. “Just don’t pull away from me.”

My mouth pops open to argue, while Declan checks right then left, and steals a kiss from me after all .

One that’s too quick and too sweet and leaves me plastered to the cinder block wall wondering what the hell I’m doing.