Page 37 of Over the Moon (Rosewood River #3)

twenty-six

. . .

Eloise

It had been a week since we’d returned to the city, and we were falling into a rhythm. Clark spent every night at my apartment because I felt less likely to be caught at my place. His apartment was in a big, fancy high-rise, and two other players lived in the same building.

So far, we’d been able to keep things professional at work, and then we’d spend our evenings wrapped around one another.

But it was a struggle spending my days with the man I was crazy about and having to hide those feelings.

The toughest part was not sharing any of this with my father.

Clark’s family knew about us. He thought Ryan Weston had also picked up on something, yet I was completely hiding a big part of my life from my dad.

He and I had always been open with one another. We’ve never had secrets, and I felt extremely guilty about it.

But involving him would be selfish.

If he knew and kept our secret, it could cost him his job.

I’d be putting him in a terrible position.

Yet it pained me to keep something so important from him.

I pushed the thought away and smiled at the beautiful man beside me.

“Why is your bed so comfortable?” His voice was all tease as he pulled me onto his chest and kissed the top of my head. “It’s like a cloud in here.”

“It’s the sheets and the bedding. They’re extra cozy,” I said, tipping my head back as he leaned down and kissed me.

“You’re extra cozy, baby.” His fingers interlaced with mine, and he rolled me onto my back and looked down at me. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I blinked a few times because I’ve never felt this way about anyone. This connection was so powerful and all-consuming.

My teeth sank into my bottom lip, and I smiled before tugging him down to kiss me again.

My alarm startled me when it went off on the nightstand, and Clark pulled back and reached for my phone. He turned it off and set it back down on the nightstand, his fingers tracing over my nipples as his sleepy gaze took me in.

“We’ve got to get up,” I whispered. “But I don’t want to.”

“How about we take a shower together this morning?” he said, scooping me up out of bed and tossing me over his shoulder.

I laughed and smacked his ass. “You know you don’t need to carry me. I do have legs that work.”

He set me down on the counter in the bathroom and turned on the shower before turning around to face me.

We were both buck naked, and I didn’t have a self-conscious bone in my body around this man anymore.

He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, and I loved how comfortable we were together now.

He placed one hand on each side of me on the counter and leaned forward. “What if I like carrying you around?”

“Well then, I can’t argue with that. Take me to the shower, Hotshot.” I held up my arms and chuckled when he scooped me up. “And then I’ll make you pancakes for breakfast.”

“Deal.”

He set me down under the warm water. There were moments like this with Clark that made me very aware that this was something special. Something bigger than a job or a contract. I pushed the feeling away every time I thought about it because I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.

He poured the shampoo into his hands and turned me around, my back to his front.

His large hands massaged my head, and he tilted it back just slightly so that I wouldn’t get soap in my eyes.

His fingers moved along my scalp, and I groaned.

We already had sex this morning, and here I was, getting all turned on again when we didn’t have time for more than a quick shower and breakfast. He rinsed my hair and turned me around, and we took turns washing one another’s bodies.

It was intimate and sweet, and I loved that he always stepped out of the shower first and grabbed a towel to wrap me up.

We hurried to dry off, and I quickly slipped into my robe and brushed out my hair, adding some product and letting it air dry while we made breakfast together.

It was the routine we’d fallen into since we returned.

I flipped the pancakes, while he pulled out the syrup and made us some coffee.

My head tipped back with a laugh when he pulled me onto his lap.

This was his thing. He wanted to be touching all the time, and I loved it so much.

When we were at work, it wasn’t an option.

But behind closed doors, it was a completely different story.

We shared one plate of pancakes piled high, and I poured syrup over them and cut the first bite, holding the fork out to him. We took turns eating, sipping our coffee, and talking.

“Do you think we’ll ever run out of things to say?” I asked, turning on his lap so I could see his handsome face.

“No.” He shrugged. “Because I went a long time before I met you, and I want to know everything.”

I sucked in a breath. That was the thing with Clark. He was so genuine, and he just said what he thought and didn’t hold back.

“I want to know everything, too, Hotshot.”

My phone vibrated, and he chuckled when he looked down to see the text from my dad, along with the time. He pushed me up and set me on my feet.

“We’ll have to save that thought for dinner tonight.”

He leaned down and kissed me, and I wished we could stay right here forever.

The day had gone by in a blur, and I was catching up on emails now.

There was a knock on my office door, and I glanced at my calendar to make sure I hadn’t forgotten a meeting, but there was nothing scheduled.

“Come in,” I called out.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Sebastian Wayburn asked.

I nodded. “Of course.”

He strolled in, closing the door behind him.

He took the seat across from me. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. Just typing in some notes for a few of the athletes I met with this morning. What’s up?” I asked.

He leaned back in the chair, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Is Chadwick being nicer to you now that you’re not only training him?” he asked, and I felt bad that we’d made him think Clark didn’t like me.

“Yes. We’re all good now. I’d even say he’s friendly to me.” I cleared my throat because I was uncomfortable about being dishonest about all of this.

“Glad to hear it. And Randall, is he treating you well?” There was an edge in his voice, but I couldn’t quite read it.

“Yes. He’s fine.” I kept my answer short because he wasn’t fine. He was constantly picking at me, and it was obvious he didn’t want me here.

“All right. I wanted to talk to you about a few observations I noticed in the scrimmage yesterday and thought you, me, and your father could grab dinner tonight so it’s not quite so formal.” An easy grin spread across his face. He was a good-looking man, and he exuded confidence.

“Oh, er, yes,” I said, clearing my throat and looking back at my computer screen. “Let me check my calendar.”

“Sure. I know it’s last minute. I just need to get out of this place sometimes and thought a nice restaurant would be a more comfortable meeting place.”

I already knew that I didn’t have anything on the calendar because I was making Clark his mom’s famous lasagna tonight. “Yes, looks like I’m free for dinner.”

“Great. I already discussed it with your father, and he’s free, as well. I’ll send you over the time and place.” He pushed to his feet.

Sebastian Wayburn was my boss. I couldn’t exactly turn him down and say that I was making dinner for his star player instead.

“Sounds good.”

He closed the door, and I quickly dialed my father’s extension.

“This is John,” he said when he answered his phone, which always made me laugh.

“It’s your private extension, Dad, so of course, it’s you,” I chuckled.

“Well, I like people to know they’re getting who they’re looking for.” His voice was all tease. “What’s up, Ells bells? Did Sebastian tell you he wanted to speak to us both tonight over dinner?”

“Yes. What do you think that’s about?” I asked, chewing on the edge of my thumbnail.

“He said he wanted to discuss some things he observed at the scrimmage. But he also seems to have some concerns about Randall, and I’m not sure what that’s about.”

“I did wonder why Randall wasn’t included in the dinner, but hopefully, it’s nothing serious.” I cleared my throat.

“He’s definitely been more on edge since this last season ended.

I mean, it comes with the territory. There’s more pressure coming off a winning season when all eyes are on us now.

But he’s the last guy who should be feeling it, as the players and the coaching staff are typically the people who feel that pressure.

” He paused, and I could tell he was taking a sip of his coffee because my father drank four to five cups of strong black coffee every day before noon.

I didn’t know how the man got any sleep at night.

“You seem fine,” I said, teasing.

“Yeah, you know I love what I do. Coming off a winning season doesn’t make me feel pressure; it makes me feel excited to do it again,” he chuckled.

“You definitely handle pressure better than most,” I said, because it was true. My father was a strong man. He never complained. He just did whatever he needed to do for the people in his life.

“I was actually hoping to have dinner with you on our own this week. You’ve seemed a little distant since you got back to the city, and I wanted to make sure everything is going all right. I’ve always been able to tell when you’ve got something on your mind, and it seems like maybe you do.”

“Yes. I’m good. You don’t need to worry about me.” I sighed.

“You’re the only person I ever worry about. And you don’t need to be stoic with me. You know that, right? If there’s something bothering you, you can talk to me, Ells.”