She owed him an answer. And she sucked at pretending, so she might as well come clean. “Are we exclusive?”
“What?”
“Exclusive.” She cleared her throat. “We never really discussed it.”
“Wait, are you saying you want to date other guys?” His brow wrinkled, and hurt flashed in his eyes.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m asking if…you know…you do?”
Relief washed over his face. “No. I do not want to date other guys.”
She smiled, but then sobered. “I’m serious, though, because I assumed we were exclusive.”
“I don’t understand where this is coming from. Have I said or done anything to make you think otherwise?”
She couldn’t clam up now. If they had any chance at a relationship, she needed to tell him what was bothering her. “It’s just that I…I…”
He leaned in, and his gaze locked on hers.
Her chest tightened. “I googled your name, and a lot of pictures came up. One pretty recent, of you with a supermodel.”
He blew out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. “I see.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t, but I can’t un-ring that bell or get it out of my head.” She lowered her gaze and fiddled with the bottom hem of her sweater.
He crossed the room and picked up a football from the floor in the corner. Tossing it from hand to hand, he paced, the lines on his face taut.
She glanced up at him. Not the reaction she’d expected.
“So, what are you saying?” He squeezed the football and studied the laces. “We’re done?”
Her heart sunk like a lead balloon. Sheesh, he’d sure been quick to go there. Maybe he’d been looking for an excuse. She tugged her teeth over her lower lip.
Wyatt twisted the ball in his hands. “I guess that’s my answer.”
Her throat turned scratchy, and her lungs burned. She must have been a fool to think she could keep the attention of a guy like him. She’d give him the out and leave with what little pride she had left. “If that’s what you want.”
His gaze shot to her. “I didn’t say that. Isn’t it what you want?”
What the hell was he talking about? This conversation had gone sideways. She shook her head. “No.”
His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the football. “I don’t understand.”
“Can we…sit down or something so we can talk about this? I can’t think with you pacing and doing that stuff with the ball.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He glanced at the football like he didn’t even realize he held it, and then tossed it in the corner. A muscle twitched under his jaw. “Talk. Okay, we can…talk.”
She took a seat at the table, and he sat across from her.
Throat dry, she swallowed, her pulse beating fast. He looked as uncomfortable as a kid sitting in the principal’s office. Might as well spit it out. “I’m not glamorous like the women in those online pictures. And I don’t know if you’re embarrassed to be with me and only want to take other women out on the town. Either way, I’m not sure I fit into your lifestyle.”
He let out a big sigh. “Is that what you think? That I’m embarrassed to be with you?”
“I don’t know what else to think.”
“Well not that. Nothing could be further from the truth.” He covered her hand with his. “You’re gorgeous. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off you. Do you know how many cold showers I’ve had in the last week alone?”
She glanced at him. His green eyes were wide and intent on hers. Picturing him in the shower sent a hot flame to her face.
“That right there.” He touched her cheek. “When you blush, I can barely breathe. So damn beautiful.”
The heat in his eyes matched his words and caused her to squirm.
He lowered his hand and held both of hers. “Yes, in my football days I lived in the spotlight and went out a lot. I don’t regret it. I was young and enjoyed the excitement. But everything changed when I retired and spent a year with my mother. I grew up a lot in that time.”
“It had to be hard. A huge shift of lifestyle.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t dated much since, and when I have, it’s fallen flat. I’m not looking for the same thing anymore. The recent picture you saw must have been the one taken at a Big Brothers Big Sisters event that had been planned for months. I don’t personally know that woman. Celebrity shots bring attention to the program, so we posed for a picture. That’s all it was.”
A sprig of hope took root, and the angst of the last week melted. Wyatt had never mentioned his involvement with the kids.
He scooted his chair closer. “If you want to go out, I’d love to take you. The reason I haven’t is because…maybe it’s selfish, but I like just being with you. Watching movies, taking walks, cooking dinners. Well, me helping you cook. I’ve never done that with anyone.”
“You haven’t?”
“No. I’ve never dated anyone like you. A lot of the women in my past were interested in my money, or to be seen with a famous football player, or have a glitzy night out. I don’t get that from you. In fact, I feel like all the cameras make you uncomfortable, which is the last thing I want.” He rubbed her hands. “You’re real, and caring, and you don’t mind getting down on the floor to hug my mangy mutt.”
Her chest expanded, giving her breathing space.
“I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad. And as far as my lifestyle, yeah, I like nice things. But I don’t live extravagantly. I’ve been there and done that.” He waved a hand around the apartment. “This is temporary, but it’s also fine until I figure out what’s next. And even if I get the job at USC, my limelight days are over. There won’t be highlights of a sideline coordinator calling in plays.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. If they were going to move forward, she’d have to accept and deal with his past and his fame. “Okay.”
Goober got up and ran over to them as if he’d suddenly realized they were in the same room. He shoved his head between Wyatt and her, tail whipping.
Anne ruffled the fur on Goober’s head as Wyatt stood and asked, “We’re good?”
Goober barked.
“Not you, ding dong.” Wyatt laughed.
Anne gave him a quick nod.
“All right. Now I better get to making dinner. Pick a bottle of wine, and I’ll open it.”
He headed to the stove, and she checked out his ass on the way. Man, oh man the guy screamed sexy. She followed him and chose a merlot from a shelf. He poured them a glass, and they toasted her upcoming birthday. He’d asked her weeks ago if she had plans for the weekend and she’d told him no. The girls were all busy, and they’d celebrate with her another time.
“You won’t give me a clue about what we’re going to do Saturday?” She tilted her head.
“You got your clue. Bring a bathing suit. That’s all I’ll tell you.” He motioned to the table. “Go sit down. I’m flying solo tonight.”
She took a seat as he walked to the cooking area.
“So how are things going with the walk-a-thon?” Wyatt pulled a small pot out from under the counter, eyed it, then shrugged.
“Good, I guess. I have a dinner meeting with the guy I’m working with tomorrow.”
Wyatt turned around to face her. “A dinner meeting for a walk-a-thon fundraiser?”
Crap. So, he found it strange, too? “Yeah. I mean, he suggested it because the restaurant was closer to both of us than the hospital.”
Wyatt dusted his hands off and placed them on the counter. Her gaze stalled on his strong forearms, making her mind go to mush.
“I get that you might need to exchange some paperwork or whatever, but how does dinner fit in?”
Hell if she knew. The whole conversation had made her uncomfortable. And now her back was up. “He was being considerate of my time, that’s all.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
Annoyance burned her stomach lining. Wyatt hadn’t told
her about his charity event picture with the super model, so he had no right to question Anne’s volunteer work. “Why does his name matter?”
Wyatt blew out a breath. “It doesn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just not used to…”
“What?” She crossed her arms.
He pressed his fingers to his forehead and then straightened. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing, but she wasn’t about to push the issue since she had her own doubts.
“Never mind.” He turned back around. “Let’s not spoil the night. I promised to make you a nice dinner. This is your night off from cooking.”
She took a sip of wine as he picked up a jar of Ragu, spinning it to read the back label. “I hope this turns out okay. I’m following the recipe.”
She choked.
His gaze darted to her. “You okay?”
“Mm-hmm.” She covered her mouth with a hand to hide the smile.
He cocked his head and gave her an I-don’t-know-what’s-up look before returning to his “recipe” scrutiny.
Yeah, she didn’t know what was up either. But this bad-ass football player who couldn’t tell a frying pan from a sauce pot was stepping out of his comfort zone for her. Warmth spread through her. Of course he didn’t know how to make a marinara. But it was precious that he was trying so hard and wanted his dinner to turn out just right.
With a frown, he put the jar down. “I guess I’ll boil the noodles first so they’re ready.”
Uh oh. They’d turn into a cold lump of glue. Anne straightened in her chair and suggested, “Maybe warm the sauce first so it can simmer while the noodles are cooking?”
Wyatt paused, holding the tiny pot in his hand. “Okay. I guess I’ll at least fill this with water so it’s ready.”
She eyed the small saucepan. It would boil over when he cooked the pasta and make a huge mess. He’d feel like crap. She got up, went to the cabinet where he kept his cookware, and opened the door. “That’s too small. Let me find something bigger for you to use.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m going to break up the noodles so they fit. Now, go sit down and relax.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She dragged out a larger pot. “You need a lot of water because pasta is a starch and expands when you boil it. If you—”
“What are you doing?” He took the pot from her and shut the door. “Who’s making this dinner, me or you?”
She flinched, and heat rushed to her face. “I’m just trying to help because—”
“I think it might be better if you don’t finish that sentence.” Wyatt raised an eyebrow and shoved a hand on his hip.
Great. Now she’d pissed him off. “I don’t know why you’re all mad at me. I realize you’re not used to cooking and just want to make sure your meal turns out okay.”
“Well, you’re treating me like one of your students, not an adult. If I want help, I’ll ask for it.”
He stared down at her, a frown on his face.
“Fine.” She stomped back to the table and plopped on the chair. Let him mess up to his heart’s delight. He could actually learn something if he listened to her.
Wyatt shot a you-better-stay-put glance in her direction, then filled the saucepan with water and turned the burner on high.
She took a big sip of wine and counted to ten in her head.
He took a packet of ground beef out of the refrigerator and dumped it into the pot she had tried to get him to use for the pasta. With the water boiling, he broke up the spaghetti noodles and tossed them in. Next, he opened the jar of Ragu and poured it over the raw meat.
Her stomach turned. Oh my God, he couldn’t be serious. She jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry, but you’re not even following the directions now. You don’t put—”
“Whoa.” Wyatt held up a hand. “Are you kidding me? Even after I told you I didn’t want your help, you still have to butt in.”
“Yeah, because I can’t sit here and watch you do this all wrong.”
A hissing noise came from the stove as water boiled over from the tiny pot onto the hot burner.
Wyatt whirled around and cursed. He grabbed the handle of the saucepan and moved it to another burner as foam poured all down the sides.
Anne bit her cheek as an I-told-you-so wave of satisfaction rose inside. That’s what he got for not listening to her and yelling at her for trying to help.
His back to her, Wyatt gripped the microwave above the stove, taking a deep breath.
She swallowed and regretted the gloating thought.
He slowly turned and faced her. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me cook without interrupting.”
“That’s not true.” She shook her head. “I told you before what the problem was, and you refused to listen.”
“You know what the problem is?” Wyatt took a step closer so that only the counter stood between them. “Your need for perfection.”
“My what?” She jerked her head back.
“You heard me. Things have to be perfect, or you’re not happy.” He gestured to the stove. “Sometimes things aren’t perfect, but so what?”
“I don’t—”
“Just listen.” He held up a finger. “Some of my longest touchdowns came from botched plays. The quarterback fumbled, or someone fell down, and I got the ball. None of that was planned, but it turned out great. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Her insides boiled. This had nothing to do with her. “I don’t think there’s a coach alive who would suggest playing a sport without a plan.”
“Damn it. You don’t get it. It’s not about football.” He closed his eyes for a minute, then opened them. “Think about pacemakers and penicillin. Both accidentally discovered.”
“Now you’re really losing me. How did we get from touchdowns to medicine?”
He looked up at the ceiling and she could swear this time he was counting to ten. Finally, he said, “My point is that people learn through their mistakes. If I’d ruined the meal, I’d have figured out a way to fix it and felt a hell of a lot better than with you jumping in and taking over.”
Her gaze went to the overflowed pot and the raw meat soaking in Ragu. This was bullshit. She’d only tried to help avoid exactly what had happened, out of concern for his feelings. “Maybe you would have fixed it, but not everyone is as lucky as you. Some of us have to work really hard to be successful and aren’t naturally talented at everything they do.”
“What?” His eyes widened.
“Look at your life. An only child, a revered jock all through school, and then a superstar athlete. Do you even know what it’s like to fail at something? Because I sure do.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “You have talent in spades, and even at the bar, when you were out of your element, you managed to come out on top. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to work at?”
“That’s an easy one.” Wyatt huffed. “Us.”
Anne gasped and took a step back. “Wh-what?”
Damn he hated the tears shimmering in her eyes, but she’d pushed him to the limit. His pulse pounded in his head. “It’s the truth. But for the record, I didn’t skate through life. Talent only goes so far. I busted my ass every day to become a successful athlete. So yeah, I do know what it’s like to work hard.”
She pressed her lips together and gave a quick nod. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yes, you should, because you thought it.” He rounded the counter and stopped in front of her. “I’m telling you this relationship stuff is harder than all of that. I’ve never been more clueless.”
“About what?”
“You. You’re important to me, and I’m scared to death I’m gonna fuck this up because I don’t know what I’m doing. If you expect everything to be perfect, we’ll never make it.”
She placed her hand on his. “I didn’t realize I was pressuring you. I try to do the exact opposite by not making demands or expecting special treatment.”
“I get that, but I suck at this t
alking and relationship stuff. I know how to take someone out to a fancy place and impress them, but you don’t want that.” His gut twisted. “I figured you wanted to break up when you saw my wild-days pictures, not talk about them. Then I got jealous over your charity dinner meeting. What kind of asshole does that make me? I’ve never been jealous before.”
Her eyes softened, and she sniffled. “Me either. That’s why the recent picture upset me so much.”
He picked up her hand and inched closer. “I wish I could get you to relax. Why is it so important to you that things be a certain way? Can’t you just let go a little?”
“It’s hard for me because I’ve always been the responsible one.” She gazed up at him. “People depend on me, and I don’t want to let them down.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need to do that around me. I’d love to see you let loose, mess something up, and be able to laugh about it.”
“Yeah? That’s kind of wacked.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing if you play it safe all the time and never take a chance.”
She nodded. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He pulled her in for a hug and she melted against him, soft and warm. Poor thing tried to carry the weight of the world. If only he could get her to chill.
He eased back. “Can we start this night over?”
“I’d like that.” She slid her arms around his neck.
He lowered his head and kissed her. Tenderly at first, but that never lasted long. She kissed him back, pressing closer. He stroked his hands down her sides, flicking his tongue against her teeth. She opened her mouth for him.
God, she tasted good. A unique flavor all her own, sweet and intoxicating. A groan rumbled in his chest, and he dragged his mouth to her neck, trailing kisses down to her shoulder. Her soft, warm skin felt like velvet under his lips. She shivered, goosebumps forming on her arms. The way she reacted to him set his body aflame.
Love on the Line (Love Beyond Danger Book 3) Page 10