Page 13

13

Taylor

“ T aylor?” he asks.

“Well…” I glance down at myself. I’m in yoga pants and a sweater, nothing remotely sexy, but he can’t see that as long as I keep the phone on my face. “Well I’m in a sexy, lace bra and matching panties.”

His brow furrows, and for a second I’m not sure what’s going on…but then he speaks. “Why are you dressed like that when there’s a storm outside and you said you couldn’t get warm? Grab a pair of my sweats and a hoodie before you freeze to death.”

My heart stutters, and I can’t stop the lump rising in my throat. Is he serious? His first thought isn’t about the sexting. It’s about me being warm and comfortable.

“Oh, I was just kidding,” I blurt out, feeling both foolish and... something I can’t quite identify. Cherished, maybe? Treasured? I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s pulling at every soft part of me. “I’m actually in yoga pants and a thin sweater. But maybe your clothes would be warmer.”

“Definitely. Go to my dresser. Top drawer for sweats. Second for a hoodie.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, and I can’t help the tiny smile tugging at my lips as I head to his dresser. I pull out a pair of drawstring sweats and an oversized hoodie, holding them up to the camera.

“How about these?”

“Perfect. Put them on. Now,” he commands.

Wait, I get what this is. He wants to watch me strip. “I’m on it.”

“Good, put the phone down and get changed,” he orders, softer this time.

“Yes, boss,” I tease, secretly loving the way he takes charge. Although I’m not so sure it’s a secret at all. I set the phone down and quickly slip into his clothes. They smell like him, warm and familiar.

When I pick the phone back up, he’s still scowling. “Show me.” I laugh and hold the phone out. “Good. Now get in my bed and pull the blankets up to your neck.”

The lump in my throat is back, but this time it’s pure emotion. My heart squeezes tight, and for a moment, I can’t speak. Who does this? Who worries about someone like this? It’s so sweet, so simple, yet it means…so much to me.

I slide under the covers, his cozy blankets settling around me. I glance at the other side and an emptiness fills me. “Done,” I whisper, my heart swelling at the little ways this man takes care of me.

He sinks down into his pillow, putting one arm over his head, and as the phone shifts I get a glimpse of his shirtless body. “Did you eat?” His voice is laced with concern. “I know the kitchen isn’t exactly well-stocked yet.”

I reach over and grab his credit card from the nightstand, holding it up with a mischievous smile. “See this magical plastic thing? Turns out if you give the number to a restaurant, food miraculously shows up at your door. Isn’t that wild?”

The corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Always the comedian.”

“For the record, yes, I ate. Thanks for asking, Grandpa.” I might be teasing, but my belly warms with his concern. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah, grabbed a steak with the guys.” A comfortable moment of silence together and then, “Tell me about your day.” His voice is low, maybe even a bit sleepy, and it brings on my yawn.

“Well, I went to classes, and then I met up with Sahara for lunch, and we walked by…ah, we walked down Boylston Street.”

“You walked by what?” he asks, ever the astute man that he is.

“Oh.” I laugh it off, even though there’s a tightness inside me. “It’s nothing.”

“T, come on,” he murmurs, his voice so warm and coaxing it tugs at the honesty in me, and I can’t help but give in. While I’m not going to tell him my impractical dream, I can give him something.

“It was just a dance studio. There were so many kids. You should have seen them. All tiny and full of energy in tutus. Even some boys.”

“Yeah?” His voice softens even more. “I love that boys are doing ballet and wearing tutus.”

“Me too.”

“That must have been adorable.”

“It was adorable.” I snuggle in deeper and struggle to keep my eyes open as sleep pulls at me.

“I bet if I did ballet, it would have made me a better skater.”

“I have no doubt about that and it’s not too late, you know. I can help you with some moves. Even yoga.”

“I’d like that, T.”

Another long moment of silence, and I ask, “You guys back on the road tomorrow?”

“Yeah, headed to Nashville.”

“Going to kick butt?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up and making it look damn sexy, and that’s when I realize just how much I miss having him beside me.

“That’s the plan.” A small sleepy smile plays on his lips.

I reach across the bed, my fingers brushing against his pillow. Pulling it closer, I breathe in the faint scent that still lingers there. “I enjoyed the game tonight, even if it was a loss.”

“Thanks.” His eyes flutter shut, then spring open. “Hey, wait, you were supposed to be studying.”

I give him a sheepish look. “I studied between periods.”

He shifts to get comfortable, his voice soft and drowsy when he asks, “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“More studying in the day, and we have a show Saturday and Sunday nights.” I tuck the pillow under my chin. “And I want to get out and pick up some Christmas presents.”

“That sounds nice. Are you going alone or with Sahara?”

“She’s working and everyone else is busy, so I’ll go alone.”

“Hmm.” As he makes a sound like he’s deep in thought I angle my head. What is he up to? “If you want to wait until I get back on Tuesday, I can go with you. I know you don’t have a class on Tuesday until the evening.”

He knows that? My heart does a weird little tumble. “Now, how am I supposed to buy you a present if you’re with me?”

“The only thing I want to unwrap on Christmas morning is you,” he responds, his lips quirking into a sleepy smile as he cracks one eye open to peek at me.

I can’t help but smile back, because yeah, I like that idea too. “I think I can arrange that. Although we do have a big family dinner.”

“Are you looking forward to having Sahara’s big family and your dad and Miles?”

I let out a soft sigh. “I am. I haven’t seen Dad in a while and I’m so glad he and Kalen patched things up.” A thought strikes me and I inch up on one elbow. “Wait, I never even stopped to think about it, but won’t your family want you home?”

“Yeah, absolutely, but I told them I wanted to stay here with you and they were more than happy about it. They want us building that relationship.”

A knot twists in my stomach, the guilt of keeping secrets from his sweet family sitting heavy in my heart.

“Besides,” he adds, “We’ll see them for Easton’s New Year’s Eve wedding.”

“You never did explain why Easton was having a Vegas wedding.” A small laugh escapes me at the thought of a Vegas wedding as I settle back down.

“Why do you find that odd?”

God, I love this lazy, meandering talk, and easy comaraderie between us. It’s like slipping into something warm and comfortable, like his clothes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your family and your friends, I think they’d want something other than a Vegas wedding.”

He laughs and the sound goes through me, warming my darkest corners. “His grandfather owns one of the big casinos. It’s not an Elvis impersonator wedding,” he explains, flashing a grin so irresistible I can’t help but smile back. “Is that what you thought?”

I crinkle my nose. “Guilty as charged.”

“It won’t be like that at all. It’s very classy and elegant.”

“Damn.” I shake my head dramatically. “I picked out a rockabilly dress with rhinestones,” I joke. “I guess that won’t cut it now.”

“You did not.”

“No, I did not,” I admit with a chuckle. “I picked out a lovely, elegant dress. Even if it was a crazy Elvis impersonator wedding, I wanted to look nice for you.”

“Aww, you like me,” he teases smirking.

I laugh. “Just playing my part, Anchor.”

His brow quirks. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that before.”

“Oh, I’ve called you a lot of things you’ve never heard. Especially when it’s your night to cook.”

My teasing is rewarded with a big belly laugh. “I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“What are you going to hold against me?” Sinking into his pillow and breathing in his scent as it wraps around me like a warm hug.

His grin turns wicked, his eyes glistening with playful mischief. “How about my body, the second I get home.”

“I can get behind that,” I murmur. “Or in front of it. Even on top of it,” I tease.

“God, I can’t wait.” He exhales, his eyes fluttering shut again. The poor guy is exhausted and in need of sleep, but neither of us seem in a hurry to end this chat. “I’m serious about the shopping, though. I’d like to go with you.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I reply, grinning. “You’re pushing for it because you really are worried I’ll dress in that rockabilly rhinestone dress and embarrass you.”

“Babe,” he responds, his voice full of affection. “You can go in that dress, or in a brown paper bag and it would never embarrass me. My parents, maybe, but not me.”

I laugh at that. “Maybe Grandma has something I can borrow.”

“You’d rock it.”

I laugh at the foolishness of it all, but something in that compliment makes me feel like I really could rock it.

“I think exhaustion is making you say crazy things. You should get to sleep.” I glance at the clock. “Me too. I have an early class.”

“Okay, babe. Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

“They will be, if I dream of you.”

“Okay, now I really know you’re delirious,” I tease, even though my heart is all mushy. “Night.”

“Night.”

With that, I slide my finger across the screen, drop the phone and the next thing I know, it’s morning. I wake up with a grin, and glance at my phone, still on the bed beside me. Last night’s call lingers in my mind, that feeling of almost falling asleep with him still fresh, warm and comforting.

Reaching for my phone, I tap into my favorite social media app, scrolling lazily, despite the fact that I should be up, showering and hauling my ass to class. A photo of Elias pops up, nothing unusual, except…my chest tightens. He’s standing with a woman. Not just any woman. This one doesn’t look like one of the team’s usual ‘bunny’ types.

My fingers fly across the screen, for a deeper investigation. It doesn’t take long to figure out who she is…a professional mortgage broker.

That’s when my stomach tightens and I know exactly why. I’m jealous.

Totally freaking jealous.

And not just jealous. I’m distraught.

She looks perfect, polished, confident. Someone who could step seamlessly into his life. She’s even around his age. My throat tightens, a wild thought in my head. What if this whole charade, this stupid ruse to fool his family is keeping him from finding someone real? Someone who could actually be his future bride. Like the woman he has his arm around.

The mortgage broker.

The room spins, like I’ve just been slapped across the face—with a hockey stick. But the worst part of this. I don’t want that woman anywhere near him. As a matter of fact, I want to push her off him and claim him as my own.

But that’s ridiculous. Absolutely ludicrous.

Because one, this thing between us is about sex and pretending, nothing more.

And two, I’m young. I’ve spent too much of my life under my brother’s thumb, and I’ve got a future to chase. A life to live, trips to take, wings to spread.

That’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I still want.

Right?