He laughed and rubbed his jaw. “Deal.”
“If you’re sure,” she said quickly.
“I’m sure.” He stepped back, nostrils flaring, and let go of her. “Nothing wrong with a healthy little bet between friends, right?”
“Is that what we are?” she asked breathlessly. “Friends?”
He nodded once. “I’d like to be, yes. I can’t ask for more than that, though, because—”
“You don’t want a relationship,” she finished for him, smiling when he flushed. “You don’t have to keep telling me. I swear not to fall in love with you, and I swear not to read too much into us hanging out every once in a while.”
“Good. And I swear the same.” He held a hand up solemnly. “Here and now, I also swear not to fall for you, or to read into things intentions that aren’t there.”
She chuckled. “Then it’s settled. We have a deal.”
Holding a hand out, he asked, “Should we shake on it?”
They were shaking on their agreement not to fall for one another more so than they were their little dinner arrangement. She had basically just agreed to a friends-with-benefits situation, something she’d never embarked upon before, but that was just fine with her. If she got to spend more time with Wyatt Hamilton, she’d take it, no matter what he wanted to call it. “Sure.”
Sliding her hand into his, she shook it firmly and started to let go. He tightened his grip and pulled her into his arms, kissing her until she lost track of time and any silent agreements. When he pulled back, she clung to him breathlessly, blinking up at his blurry face.
“Sorry. I prefer kissing on agreements,” he said, his tone low and rumbly.
It was sexy as hell.
“Noted,” she said breathlessly.
He swung her back to her feet, letting go. “Speaking of kissing, you can still date around and live your life. Because we’re just…friends. Like I said, I don’t like the idea of you with another guy, but I also have no right to ask you not to see other men when I’m not giving you more than this,” he said gently, tucking her hair behind her ear, his jaw tighter than usual. “Don’t let me stop you, is all I’m saying.”
She didn’t say anything.
Just nodded.
He stepped back. “I’m going to run home, shower, and get changed. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”
“Sure,” she said. “What should I wear?”
“Any dress you’d like. It’s casual.”
She nodded. “O-okay.”
As he walked out of her kitchen, he bent and swooped up his shirt and shoes on the way. “And Kass?”
“Yeah?” she asked, admiring his butt as he bent, because it was a fine butt.
“Just a fun little tip,” he said, winking. “You’ve never lived until you’ve gone out in public without a pair of underwear on. You should try it sometime.”
She choked on a laugh. “Will you be forgoing them tonight?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Before she could reply, he was gone, pulling his shirt over his head as he disappeared.
Chapter Eleven
All night long, she’d been on his mind. Even though she was right next to him, holding his hand or his arm all night, speaking to him, all he could think about was getting her home and getting her all to himself again. She was beautiful. Funny. Smart. Charming. He couldn’t get enough of her. To be honest, he was starting to worry he never would.
She wore a black dress that hugged her curves. The dress came together with a bow on her stomach, and she’d matched it with a pair of lacy black high heels.
He kept getting distracted by that bow, fantasizing about undoing it like he was unwrapping the prettiest present he’d ever received. Had she skipped the underwear like he’d teasingly suggested? If he tugged on that bow and let the dress hit the floor, would she be naked? Would goose bumps rise over her flesh, her thighs trembling as she waited for him to make his next move, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted on a breath?
The mere image in his head was enough to make his pants grow tighter.
Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him?
She glanced at him, a glass of wine in her hand as she smiled at something George Waverly said. He’d been talking about how many yards he’d scored in the Super Bowl back in the late nineties, and Kassidy, bless her, had been listening intently the whole time, hanging on every word the gray-haired man said. She actually seemed interested in Waverly’s endless stories about football.
Even more so than he was.
And he loved football. It was his life.
He’d never been with a girl who actually enjoyed football talk. Throughout dinner, she’d quoted a few stats that he knew for a fact were correct, showing an impressive knowledge about the game he loved more than life itself. It was sexy as hell, and when she told Waverly she remembered the score of that Super Bowl—correctly—it took every ounce of his self-control not to stand up, tell Waverly good-bye, and carry her out of the restaurant over his shoulder.
He needed her all to himself.
She could talk dirty to him all night about football, and stats, and plays, and he’d make her scream his name in return. Her laugh broke into his thoughts, and he ripped himself out of his fantasies. “Yeah, but he’s got time,” she said.
Who had time?
“Still—” Waverly started.
“He’s only five years into his NFL career, and he’s already been one of the highest scoring quarterbacks these past few years. Last year alone, he almost defeated Brady for most yards covered.”
Wait. Was she talking about him?
“Last week alone, he covered four hundred and twenty yards.”
She’d told him the other night she knew his numbers, but he’d figured that she was just trying to impress him. But she hadn’t been full of shit after all.
She was an enigma, his Kassidy.
He was going to keep her up all night, and he had every intention of asking everything and anything about her that popped into his head. He wanted to learn it all.
Waverly scoffed. “And you think he can beat Brady’s record?”
Kassidy nodded.
“Hmph.” He gestured to Wyatt. “I like ya and all, kid, but not even I am willing to go that far.”
“You should be.” She pointed at him. “Last year…” She proceeded to rattle off every stat the NFL had put out on him, with precision and perfection.
His jaw hung open.
Where had she been his whole life?
Had he been wrong to avoid befriending her? Could he have her and not sacrifice his game? Or had she come along as a temptation, one he was supposed to overcome to prove his commitment to his career?
Shit if he knew.
She’d turned his world over onto its side, and he was still trying to figure out which way was up and which was down.
“Would you care to put your money where your mouth is?” Waverly asked her, smirking and leaning back in his chair.
“I would. Within the next five years, he will beat Brady.”
Waverly held his hand out. “The stakes?”
“Box seats at the playoffs.”
The older man laughed. “No messing around, huh?”
“I want to be there to see him win,” she said, shrugging.
Wyatt cleared his throat. “Kass, Waverly never loses a bet.”
“I don’t care. Your precision is better than Brady’s, and I have every belief that, given time, you’ll beat him. I’m confident in my wager.”
The way her eyes lit up with excitement as she spoke, like she couldn’t wait to see it happen? Yeah, it did shit to him. Shit that he took no responsibility for…nor for the actions that followed.
Unable to resist, he reached across the distance between them, curled his hand behind her neck, and kissed her, right there in front of everyone. She gasped but then melted against him, opening her lips.
He pulled back without taking advantage of that offer and pressed h
is mouth to her ear. “Hearing you talk stats like that is even hotter than you arguing on my behalf for more money. You’re so sexy.”
Her grip on her glass tightened. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I feel the same way about you,” she breathed.
Waverly cleared his throat. “Well, it’s a bet, then?”
“It is,” Kassidy said, her voice only trembling slightly as she turned her attention back to the older man.
Wyatt rested his hand on her thigh, smiling at Waverly. “Now I have even more of a reason to kick Brady’s ass. My girl can’t lose her bet.”
Waverly laughed. “Oh, but she will.”
“Doubtful,” Kass supplied, side-eyeing him.
It wasn’t until he replayed his words that he realized why. He’d called her his girl. Shiiiiit. “I mean, no one likes to lose, right?”
“Right,” she said softly.
The table fell silent, and all Wyatt could think about was how he’d called Kassidy his girl.
Thing was, he wasn’t panicking over it. If anything, it was…right.
What. The. Fuck?
“Dessert, anyone?” Waverly asked.
“Absolutely,” Kassidy said.
At the same time, Wyatt replied, “No.”
They glanced at one another.
“No?” Kassidy asked, looking at him like he’d stabbed a baby. “But I love dessert.”
He choked on a laugh. “Well, then, we’ll have it.”
“Honestly. Who says no to dessert?” She shook her head, letting out a disappointed sigh as she set her wineglass down. “I’m going to have to rethink this whole friendship thing we have going on. I don’t think I can make this work.”
Waverly laughed. “I think you do, too. I’ll have you know,” he leaned across the table, smirking. “I never say no to dessert.”
Even at sixty, Waverly was a successful, wealthy, witty, attractive man. And the way Kassidy smiled at him…yeah. It kind of made him want to punch the man right in his older, successful, attractive face. He growled under his breath.
The waiter came up. “Would anyone care for dessert?”
“Yes.” Wyatt spoke before anyone else could. “We would like a sampling of everything brought to the table. You can do that, right, Jerry?”
The waiter beamed. “Yes, Mr. Hamilton, sir. We can certainly do that for you.”
He hurried off.
Wyatt grinned. “Excellent.”
Waverly whistled through his teeth.
Turning back to Kassidy, he winked, slid his thumb higher up her thigh, and said, “Still rethinking that friendship?”
“Nope. We’re cool.” She stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress. Her hand trembled slightly, and her cheeks were rosy. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment?”
Both men stood.
Waverly bowed. “Of course.”
“We won’t eat it without you,” Wyatt promised.
“Of course you won’t.” She winked at him like he’d done to her seconds before. “It’s a long walk home, after all.”
She’d insisted on driving. He’d grudgingly allowed her. Part of him was convinced she’d insisted on driving so she would stay sober and keep her guard up. He didn’t blame her. She was messing with his head, so maybe he was messing with hers, too.
Hell, he’d called her his girl.
Clearly, he needed his wits about him.
“Touché.”
Wyatt watched her go, her hips swinging with each step she took. The smile he’d forgotten he was wearing wore off when he saw at least three guys watching her as closely as he was. He tightened his fists and turned back to his old friend, stiffening when he saw him laughing. “What?”
“You’ve got it bad.”
He stiffened even more and sat down. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes. You do.” Waverly shook his head and sat, too. “You gotta keep this one around, Hamilton. Girls like her are one of a kind.”
“I won’t be keeping anything around. She’s a person, not a possession.” He lifted a shoulder. “Besides, it’s not like that with us. We’re just friends.”
Waverly snorted. “Yeah. Sure you are.”
“We are,” he said, leaving it at that. Protesting more would only make Waverly think he was right, and he wasn’t. He and Kass knew what they were, and that was all that mattered.
No one else needed to know or understand.
“So, then, you wouldn’t mind if she was flirting with a guy while waiting for the restroom to open?” Waverly asked slowly.
Wyatt snorted. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because she is.”
He glanced over, and sure enough, she was chatting it up with a tall dude who probably never skipped a day in the gym his whole life. She laughed at something he said, playing with her glasses nervously and then turned toward Wyatt.
He cocked a brow.
She smiled at him.
He forced a smile back. It hurt.
“Yeah. You look thrilled,” Waverly said pointedly.
“I don’t have room in my heart for anything but the game. Nothing has changed in that regard.” He glanced Kassidy’s way again, but she was inside the restroom, and the man who’d been talking to her was alone. He sagged against the chair. “Nothing ever will.”
Waverly rubbed his jaw, his old green eyes far too astute for Wyatt’s liking. “A man can love the game and a woman at the same time.”
“Not this man.”
“If you say so,” he said slowly. “What do you have against love, anyway?”
“Nothing. I love football. I love my team. I love my coaches. I love my family. Hell, I even love you most of the time,” Wyatt said, sitting up straight. “I just don’t need that kind of love in my life. I don’t want it. Never had. I’m happier alone, and there’s nothing wrong with being in love with being single, despite what everyone else in the world seems to think.”
Waverly held his hands up in surrender. “I never said it was wrong.”
“But…?” Wyatt supplied, sensing there was more. “Spit it out, old man. You’ve never been one to hold back on me before.”
“But you seem to like this woman a lot, and she clearly likes you for some reason, so I’d hate to see you let her go because you were too scared to try to care about someone.”
“I’m not scared,” he said immediately. “I’m just not interested.”
“When someone speaks to your soul, when you can’t stop thinking about them, when they matter to you…you don’t just let them go, son.” Waverly shrugged. “You hang on tight, and you fight for what you have, and you sure as hell don’t refuse to admit it’s there.”
“We don’t have anything there besides a friendship we both respect and understand. There’s nothing to fight for.”
Waverly shook his head. “If you truly believe that, then you’re even worse off than I thought. Admit that you like her. Admit that she makes you feel alive.”
Wyatt said nothing.
Waverly lifted his brows.
He had no idea how long they sat like that, silently weighing one another, but eventually Kassidy came back, sat down, and said, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Wyatt said immediately, breaking eye contact with Waverly since the older man clearly wasn’t going to back down. “We were just chatting about football.”
“Yeah.” Waverly smiled. “Football.”
The conversation continued as Waverly and Kassidy went off on another tangent about last year’s Super Bowl, and Wyatt found himself strangely reserved. There was something about what Waverly said, and how he’d said it, that had shaken Wyatt to his very core.
Did he care about Kassidy? Was there something to fight for? Did she bring him to life? He was beginning to question everything about himself and Kassidy’s effect on him, and as a man who didn’t second-guess anything, he didn’t like that at all.
As if she sensed his distrac
tion, she leaned in close at a lull in the conversation and whispered, “Are you okay?”
He jerked to attention. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just…” She fidgeted with the napkin on her lap. He noticed her nail polish was chipped on her thumb, and there was something so very Kassidy—so endearing—about that little detail that his heart skipped a beat for no logical reason at all. “Ever since you called me your girl, you’ve been acting weird. I didn’t think you meant it. It was said in fun. I’m well aware I’m not, and never will be, your girl.”
Something about the way she said it didn’t sit well in his stomach. But he forced a smile anyway. “I’m not worried about that.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I just have a headache, that’s all.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, did you get that guy’s number that you were talking to?”
“What guy?” she asked in confusion.
“The one at the bathroom that you were flirting with.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” she said, frowning. “He was just talking to me.”
“Flirting with you,” he corrected. “Did you get his number?”
She shook her head, her forehead wrinkled. “Nah. I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” he asked because he was a glutton for punishment.
“I dunno. I guess…he’s just too muscly for me.”
“Then what does that make me?” he asked, frowning. “Scrawny?”
“Just right,” she supplied, eyeing his arms. “Some might even say perfect.”
He choked on a laugh and glanced toward Waverly, who had become the quiet one. It wasn’t until then that he realized why—he wasn’t even there anymore.
“He went to the bathroom,” Kassidy supplied.
“Oh. Right.”
“So, we’re cool?”
“Of course.” He leaned in and wrapped his hand behind the back of her neck, pulling her in and resting his forehead on hers. Inhaling deeply, he greedily breathed in her scent. Every muscle in his body relaxed. “We’re so cool we’re the Arctic.”
She laughed, resting her hands on his chest. “Good.”
Catching the Player (Hamilton Family) Page 9