“Don’t what?” she asked, looking like she was ready to sprint to the guest room and slam the door.
“Don’t overthink it,” he said.
She sat up and looked at him but didn’t move away from him. “I don’t know how to not overthink it.”
He laughed at that. At least she was honest. “That’s valid.”
Her level of panic seemed to increase before his eyes, and suddenly she blurted out, “Beckett, I’m not going to be another one of your one-night stands.”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I never asked you to be, Jordyn. And I would never ask you to be.”
“I’m just not that type of woman,” she said firmly, like she was trying to make sure he knew that. Hell, she didn’t have to say a thing and he heard her loud and clear.
“Jordyn, I am well aware you aren’t the type to sleep around, and I’m still interested. So how about we just see where things go instead of overthinking? Instead, how about you make us some breakfast while I do the chores, and then we can make a good ol’-fashioned Thanksgiving feast together.”
She looked pleased with that idea. “You have a turkey thawed?”
“Sure do. Fridge in the garage.”
Then her brow furrowed. “You don’t have anyone else you’d be having Thanksgiving with?”
He shook his head. “The little ol’ lady that runs the café in town would have had to-go dinners or dinner for whoever wanted to come. She’s my great aunt. So I could have gone there, but it’s not like I can now. Took the turkey out when I first heard the forecast. You can’t be without a bird on Thanksgiving.”
She nodded. “Fair point.”
“I’ll even fire up the generator, and we can watch some football . . . or whatever you’d like.”
She grinned, like she knew some big secret. “Football is fine.”
He was a little surprised. Most women jumped at the chance to avoid sports on television. “But you don’t like football, honey.”
She laughed and gave him a playful look. “No, I never said I didn’t like the game of football. I said I didn’t like football players.”
And while he was picking his jaw up off the floor, she was on her way to the kitchen to make breakfast. This woman . . .
****
It was almost two in the afternoon by the time they had finished creating their feast. It seemed absolutely ridiculous and a bit wasteful to have so much food for two people, but what was Thanksgiving for? They had turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, a corn casserole, as well as the homemade dinner rolls and pumpkin pie she’d made to round it all out. He had even had a tub of whipped topping in the freezer. What could get better than an impromptu lavish Thanksgiving feast?
She put that double oven through the ringer too. It didn’t disappoint.
Then there was the issue of what she woke up to this morning and was trying her hardest to forget. Yes, she had flipped out, and he had known it. He seemed oddly chill about the whole thing. But wasn’t that what he did? Not putting a name to a relationship? He said he knew she wasn’t the sleeping-around type of woman and that he was still interested in her. What did that even mean? Did he even know what that meant? She highly doubted it. They were both swimming in uncharted waters here.
Maybe he just thought she was going to be fun to be with while they were snowed in and then they would be over as soon as the snow stopped and she left? Like one super long date? That would be the most logical explanation for this turn of events. Wasn’t it just a day ago he was still mad at her? How did they even get to this point anyway?
And speaking of the snow, the wind had finally stopped, but the snow had picked up again. Unlike before, when it was a violent fury of cold, ice, and wind, this time it was a more peaceful snow. The weather report on the local channel had told them they were to get a maximum of four more inches, and then the storm would finally be done.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. That meant she was leaving soon. Which was what she had wanted . . . right?
Now that she was finally sitting down, she was struggling to even enjoy her pie, which was a flipping tragedy in and of itself. While they were cooking, it was fun and lighthearted. She felt she didn’t need to name what was going on between them; she could just let whatever happened happen. But with his past, and hers, she just couldn’t let him think she was interested in anything casual. She didn’t do casual. Actually, she didn’t do much dating. Sure, here and there a little. One steady boyfriend in college. But that was about it.
“What’s on your mind, Houston?” he asked, never missing a thing. Her nickname had stuck, and though it was annoying at times, it just made her appreciate when he did actually say her real name.
She was pretty sure her honest answer would ruin their pie in five minutes or less.
****
She was on her second piece of pie.
He didn’t know why he found that so endearing, but he did. He guessed it was because a lot of the women he had dated spent every second calorie counting or caring about their looks. Not that Jordyn was lacking at all in that department. Sure, he supposed he had dated prettier girls or skinnier girls. But Jordyn’s beauty was a different kind. It was less of an overpowering beauty and more of a subtle, calming one. And those curves were in all the right places too. He’d have to have been blind not to notice. She didn’t need to dress her beauty up and throw it in his face either. It was just there. Without being loud about it.
And with those thoughts, he was just sure he was turning into a sap.
But he knew she was still bothered by this morning. She had no idea what was going on and probably didn’t know what do with her feelings. Hell, he had no idea what was going on either, but that didn’t mean she needed to get all bent out of shape about it. If there was anything football had taught him, it was that you couldn’t control it all. The only thing you could control was the next play and what you did with it. So that’s what he planned on doing.
“Honestly, I was thinking about my ex-boyfriends,” she said, her voice wavering.
He almost choked on his pie. His eyebrows rose in surprise, and he tried to rein in the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Irrational anger? Jealousy? Nah. Couldn’t be. “Were there a lot of them?”
She laughed. “Gosh no. Definitely not.”
He couldn’t help but ask the next thought on his mind. “Any recent ones?”
She shook her head no. “Maybe a year ago? I had a Valentine’s date with a friend of a friend. She knew he was my type, but we didn’t really hit it off.”
She had a type? “And what exactly is your type?”
“Not you,” she said quietly and honestly. She looked to him, and he saw her vulnerability swimming in her eyes. She was trying not to let it drown her. He knew she had feelings for him, and she was constantly trying to categorize them and figure them out, which was very much her analytical way.
“What is this?” she finally asked as she pointed to him and then back to her, not surprising him at all.
He couldn’t help but smirk. “I believe they call it dating. Ours is just a little untraditional since you’re living with me, compliments of the blizzard. But I mean, it has been a while though, so maybe I’m not the expert here.”
She snorted. “But you don’t date.”
He grinned that cocky grin he knew he had. And it worked for him. Usually. Well, 90 percent of the time. The other 10 percent ended in slaps, mostly from his sister. He guessed he’d try his luck. “I do now.”
She rolled her eyes.
Dang it. Not impressed with the dimpler. Yes, he had a nickname for his own single dimple. He had named it in high school and was proud of that thing. That served a reminder that he was an egotistical man after all. Good. He had thought he was going full sissy there for a minute.
“When this snowstorm is over, I’m leaving. You know it and I know it. It’s not like I live here so we can see each other all the time,” she explained, not looking up as
she moved the whipped cream around her plate with her fork. “So it seems unlikely that someone who doesn’t really date would want to jump right into a long-distance relationship.”
That type of talk needed to stop right this damned minute. “Jordyn.”
“Beckett,” she hissed as she forcefully stabbed another bite of her pie. Though she was upset, her southern drawl, ever so slight as it was, flared up when she was mad. And he vowed to tick her off at least a dozen more times just so he could hear her say his first name with that drawl. He didn’t want her mad at him, but it was such a turn-on.
He stood and walked over to her. He scooted her chair out so they could face one another, placed his hands on both arms of the chair, and then crouched down so they were eye level. “I said no overthinking. I don’t typically date, but I want to date you. I’m not an idiot and I know you where you live, honey. We will take it one day at a time, okay? I’m interested in you. Are you going to try to tell me you aren’t interested in me?”
“No.”
He looked at her with one eyebrow raised in confusion to clarify what the “no” meant.
“No, I am not going to tell you I am not interested in you,” she said, then added at a whisper, “I don’t want to be, yet here I am.”
He was smiling. This was going just fine. If only the snow could keep coming for a couple of weeks, this could get mighty freaking interesting. “Also. There’s just one more thing.”
She looked at him, green eyes skeptical. “What’s that?”
He leaned in super close and whispered, “You have a little whipped cream on your face.” And then, before she could even react, he kissed the corner of her mouth where it was. A peck, not even on her mouth, just the corner of her mouth. He didn’t trust himself to not kiss the hell out of her, so just a little something to show her he cared would do.
She was grinning like he imagined he was too. “Real smooth, Harper. Way to use that to your advantage.”
He laughed. “You will find I am quite the resourceful man.”
She shook her head with an eye-roll, then mocked his words from their first meeting: “Indeed.”
****
Seriously.
One kiss on the side of her mouth and she was ready to say goodbye to her vow to never date football players ever again. That was all it took. She was weak. She needed chocolate. And a hormone suppressant. But how could you be in the presence of this man and not fall for him just a little?
Make that a double shot of chocolate.
This was a man who had lost everything, everything, that mattered to him, in a year’s time but had dusted himself off and made something of himself. This was a man she found bloodied in a barn because he couldn’t bear the thought of one of his heifers getting an infection or being hurt out in the cold. He was smooth, he was confident and cocky, and then at the same time he was down to earth, gentle, and simple. Simple in his morals anyway. Definitely not simple in the looks department.
She usually didn’t like men with facial hair, but Beckett’s stubble was really starting to grow on her. Everything about him was. And she had a feeling that the super serious conversation they had last night about his football career and how he got his nickname was a conversation he didn’t have often.
So there was that. That had to count for something, right?
They had made everything in disposable casserole dishes that Beckett kept a stock of, so the dishes didn’t take too long. He grabbed a beer and she made an iced tea, and they got settled in the living room for some football. There were mostly pro games on, but they didn’t mind. It felt nice to be back with the living and live television. And the ability of charging their electronics.
She noticed he purposefully sat close to her on the couch. That first night they slept in here, it was like the middle of the couch was their dividing line. And now it was like this couch was so small they needed to crowd. Funny how things turn around in just a few days.
And she tried to rein in her cheering—she really did. But with her favorite pro team playing, she knew that Beckett was quickly going to learn that she actually did like football quite a bit.
****
“Come onnn.” Jordyn gripped the side of her tea glass harder and leaned in.
He rubbed his fingers across his dry lips to hide his grin. “So Houston is your team, huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “As you so often like to remind me with my nickname, I do live there.”
“Who’s your favorite player?”
She named the number and first and last name for him without hesitating.
“And this coming from someone who hates football.”
“Again, I hate football players, not football itself. Also, mostly because of Thomas, I like to think of myself as more of a defensive fan than an offensive one,” she explained without looking at him, zeroed in on the game. “Defense wins games.”
“You don’t say.” He had never been more entertained by a football game. And he wasn’t even watching the game; he was watching her. Never in a million years did he think she would be the type of woman to love football. She couldn’t sit still she was so into it.
“Why do you even watch football?” he asked. “How did this love of football come about? When you got to Houston?”
She shook her head. “Sam and Andrea were big sports fans. I started watching with them and became a fan before I even dated Thomas. Not that I ever admitted to Thomas that I knew anything about the game.”
Interesting.
“Come onnn!” she said a little louder.
He couldn’t stop grinning. The only thing better than what he was witnessing would have been if she was cheering for him. That thought was a little more than he could handle.
“What?” she said and looked to him for the first time in a while.
“You’re just so animated right now,” he admitted. “And much more attractive than who I normally watch the games with.”
“I take it you are talking about your friends and not insulting Mable?” she joked.
He nodded, put his hand to his heart dramatically, and whispered, “I would never insult her.” He looked to where the cat was curled into a ball on the old rocking chair beside the fire, her favorite spot to be in the winter.
“Oh my word!” Jordyn exclaimed, almost jumping to her feet.
It was a close game—he’d give her that. Her team was playing very well against a much better team. But every time Houston was on offense, she got angry.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
At that point she stood up in frustration again. It was cute how she was trying to be calm, but just couldn’t help herself. “The problem? The problem is this play calling. I mean, come on!”
Play calling? She was mad about the play calling? “You don’t like run plays?”
She shook her head strongly and glanced at him before looking back to the TV. “No. I like them just fine. I just don’t like them on second and long. I mean, come on. Get the ball down the field!”
Holy crap. Did she really know her stuff? He couldn’t count the number of women who spouted off that they were big fans because they wanted to get into his good graces but then really knew nothing about the sport. His personal favorite was the model who asked him why they didn’t “kick some points” to tie up the game. It was called a field goal for God’s sake.
“So what would you have run, then?” he asked, secretly testing her.
She watched the end of the play intensely before responding with a shrug. “I don’t know. A slant route to the running back would be a better option—or maybe a pass play to their star receiver off on the right side because their corner on that side gets burned every single time.”
Holy crap. She had him at slant route.
It was official. He was going to marry this girl.
Attacked Me like a Teenager
CHAPTER 10
Jordyn woke up and realized she was on the couch again. And just like last night, the
first thing she saw was Mable curled up in front of the fireplace on the rocking chair. Jordyn only woke because her face felt warm . . . more like on fire. And now she knew why; her cheek was located on a very large pectoral muscle belonging to Beckett.
They had stayed up watching football and talking again. And though they had stayed up later than usual and were closer than usual, she didn’t remember being quite so cozy with him before she had fallen asleep. She was literally in his arms on the couch, using his upper body as her own personal pillow . . . the best kind of pillow. She had her arm thrown across some abdominal muscles that felt pretty in shape for him not playing anymore. And she wasn’t mad about it. No, sirree.
“Good morning,” he offered with a sleepy smile.
She had never seen him like this, and she had to admit she liked it. She wanted to be mad about last night. There was no valid reason they needed to sleep on the couch. She could have slept in the guest bedroom. But for whatever reason, with whatever was going on with the two of them, she didn’t regret it. Getting to know Beckett was a surprise she was not expecting. It wasn’t something she thought she’d ever regret.
“Good morning.” She sat up with a slight smile, trying not to blush. “Think today is the day the snow stops?”
“I freaking hope not,” he huffed, weirdly serious. “I would actually prefer for the power to go back out if we get to cozy up like this every night.”
She grinned. “Greedy.”
He sat up and kissed her on the temple. “With you I am.”
Her breath caught in her chest. How was she ever going to leave, go back to Houston, and act like this man didn’t exist? She had known him a terrifyingly short amount of time for as terrifyingly strong as she was starting to feel toward him. She was supposed to hate football players, have her guard up. What was wrong with her? Had the cold done something to her brain cells? She was usually more levelheaded than this.
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