Page 104 of The Wrong Game

Doc had especially hated that one.

But, I couldn’t help it. Gemma had me under a spell, one I didn’t want to come out of.

The game on Sunday had been even better than I’d expected. Gemma fit into mine and Micah’s banter like she’d always been there, and when we left, Micah couldn’t stop talking about how great Gemma was. He was hard to impress, even though he liked to joke like he was attracted to anything that had boobs. I knew more than anyone else that he was a hard sell, and after just one night with her, Gemma had earned his approval.

It was a huge nod in her favor for me.

And even though I hadn’t seen her much since, other than one dinner date this week, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d called me in a vulnerable state the day after the game, and we’d finally talked about the purple elephant in the room.

We were official. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Exclusively dating.

She wasmine, and I was hers.

We texted every day and called each other every night. She told me about the big residential client she and Belle had just landed and I filled her in on the musings at the bar. We started and ended every day with each other, and we had plans with each other all weekend long.

The most important of which being that, tomorrow night she was meeting the rest of my family.

I hadn’t brought a woman to family dinner since… well, ever. They hadn’t really started to be a thing until after I’d quit football, and my ex had quit me. My mom was over-the-moon excited, probably planning a four-course meal that was way too over the top, but I couldn’t help but feel the excitement, too.

I was falling for her.

More and more, with every passing day that we spent together, I saw how she could fit into my life. I’d known she was fun since the night I met her. I’d known she was witty, beautiful, and that she could hold her own when we went tit for tat. I knew she loved football and could rock the hell out of a Bears jersey.

But over the last few weeks, I’d also come to know that she was afraid of heights. I’d learned that those little lists and plans she loved to make not only made her happy, but also helped make her best friend successful. I’d learned that she loved to cook, that she was actually pretty damn great at it, and that her OCD came out when she folded her laundry.

I’d tried to help her, and learned very quickly that I would never properly understand her particular way to fold her underwear.

Or to foldanyunderwear. Period.

I’d discovered the way her eyes shine when she watched an emotional movie, seen the gentle curves of her face when the morning light stretched through her windows. I’d heard her stories about how she’d never had a pet as a kid, but how she wanted one so desperately — when she was ready. I’d seen her hand five-dollar bills to not just one, but multiple homeless men and women on the streets of Chicago as we passed them, never once giving them a judgmental look or leaning away from them like they scared her.

I was far from knowing everything I wanted to know about her, but I knew enough to know that I wanted more, that I was just getting started, and that I didn’t give a damn if I looked like a love-drunk skunk from my childhood cartoons.

Because for the first time in a long time, I was happy —trulyhappy — and she was the reason why.

“Alright, Mrs. Rudder,” Doc said, emerging from the back to do a sweep of the bar. “Finish up that glass and then I think we’re going to call it a night.”

“But it’s so early,” she pouted.

“It’s almost one,” he pointed out. “And we’ve been dead as a doorknob all night. I only kept the place open for you.”

He wasn’t wrong. We were usually steady on a Friday night, not quite as busy as we were on Saturdays or Sundays, but steady. Tonight, however, we’d had the same miserable, freezing rain that had pelted us at the home game on Sunday. Everyone was staying in, spending their night watching movies or reading or whatever they could do to not be out in the rain.

“Fine, you grump,” Mrs. Rudder said, and then she threw back the last of her merlot like it was a shot and not a cheap pour of red wine.

Doc smiled, taking her empty glass. “I thought you liked ‘em better grumpy.”

She didn’t respond, just waved him off as Doc and I shared a knowing look. I stepped outside to hail her a cab from the nearby hotel, helping her into her coat on her way out the door.

“See you soon,” I told her as she stepped inside.

“Yeah. Don’t be so happy next time.”

I smiled. “No promises.”

Once she was gone, I made my way back inside, locking the door behind me and turning off our neon signs that lit the dark windows facing the street. I hummed along with the music on our stereo, starting in on the last end-of-shift items on our list. I’d already done a lot of them, with us being slow, but it’d be at least another half hour before I could get out of there.

Doc had disappeared back into his office, but he came back out not too long after Mrs. Rudder left, and he leaned a hip against the counter, watching me.