Page 128 of The Wildest One

I have two assistants who are more than capable of handling tasks like that.

Dad

This is your job.

Me

And I’m doing my job.

I pulled the spoon out of my mouth and chewed the chocolate chip pumpkin bread pudding—which Beck’s chef had made for dessert—topped with a massive scoop of caramel ice cream, and I glanced around his living room. Although I hadn’t spent a ton of time here, it was starting to feel extra cozy whenever I came.

I turned my face toward him as he sat beside me on the couch, my legs resting over his lap. “It feels really good to be home.”

Shit, that was really only partially true.

The other half of me didn’t want to be in LA. I wanted to keep running from away game to away game, hiding from whatever fate was waiting for me.

We’d flown back this afternoon, and while we were on the plane, Beck asked me to drop my stuff at my apartment and meet him at his place to spend the night.

Which was a no-brainer.

But since I’d walked through his door, knowing I’d be returning to my office in the morning, my anxiety had me inhaling everything he put in front of me. First the salmon his chef had prepared. Now, this pumpkin whatever it was, along with the old-fashioned he’d made us as an after-dinner drink.

He spooned a mouthful from his dish and said, “I like that you’re calling my place home.” He rubbed the side of my thigh, stopping near my hip before he worked his way back down. “Could you see yourself moving in here?”

“Now?”

He shrugged. “The timing doesn’t matter—now, later, whenever. I’m just wondering if you would ever be comfortable enough to live here.”

An outsider, looking in, would probably think we were moving at warp speed. But in my mind, all those years of wanting him counted for time served.

I was positive he felt the same way.

“I could see myself moving in here tomorrow.” I licked off some ice cream from the tip of my spoon. “But I kinda think we should wait until my lease is up. Ginger is new to LA. I can’t abandon her—even though I did this evening and probably will tomorrow night.”

He put his dish on the table in front of the couch. “Only tomorrow night? How about for the next two weeks that we’re home until we hit the road again?”

“Well … we’ll see about that. When I get to the office tomorrow, I truly have no idea what I’ll be facing.”

“When are you and your dad scheduled to talk?” He set his hands on my knees.

“There’s nothing on the schedule. I just have this feeling in my gut that the talk is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Good. It’s time to get it over with.”

I nodded, the tightness moving its way into my chest, and each mouthful I fed it, it was getting worse, not better, so my bowl joined Beck’s on the table.

“I don’t like keeping this secret, Jolie. I don’t like that the guys on the team are still making comments about how fucking hot you are. I don’t like that tonight, instead of going to Charred or Toro, we’re eating here because we can’t be photographed together. I want anyone and everyone to know you’re mine.”

There was a boulder in the back of my throat, only allowing me to say softly, “I want that too.”

But …

Oh God, there were so many buts.

I just had a feeling that when it came to us, I was going to have to sacrifice something. A balance of sorts. And what that something was made me so anxious.

I needed a subject change, so I asked, “What time is practice tomorrow?”