The Trouble With Quarterbacks

It’s dead silent inside, and all the lights are off. I hover in the foyer, kick off my ballet flats, and sort of do a bit of bobbing and peering down deserted hallways to check there are no ghosts about to pop out and scare me.

“Anyone home?! Yoohoo! If you’re going to leap out at me, at least give me a heads-up so I don’t soak my knickers!”

When no one from the other side responds, I get comfortable. I flip on lights and stroll through rooms, making a mental map as I go. Powder room, living room, bar, guest room, gym, sauna, kitchen, butler’s pantry, real pantry, another bathroom, another bedroom, a tunnel to China—just kidding on that last bit, but wow this place is huge. It might as well take up a whole city block.

I retrace my steps and try to make it back to the kitchen, but then I somehow find myself in a whole other wing with its own set of bedrooms and bathrooms, and I sort of go into a bit of a panic run because my brain immediately assumes I’ll lose myself in this labyrinth forever and eventually starve. Dear god no. Any other death, please!

Eventually, I do find my way back to the kitchen (after I’ve gone sweaty), and I immediately scour the cabinets for a loaf of bread so I can leave a trail of crumbs for myself if I go off wandering again à la Hansel and Gretel.

This, of course, leads me to finding a veritable cache of snack foods: crisps, crackers, popcorn, biscuits, nuts, cereal. It’s endless. I think I’m close to tears, but maybe it’s because only moments ago I assumed I’d never eat again.

I’ve just popped the lid on some Pringles when Logan strolls into the kitchen and catches me red-handed.

My cheeks are so flushed you could fry an egg on them.

“Oh, I do hope you were serious about the ‘making yourself at home’ bit,” I say, scanning guiltily across the junk food I’d already begun to pull from the shelves. It nearly covers his kitchen island, and now I realize I might have gotten carried away.

Logan doesn’t move from the doorway, at least not at first. He hovers there, looking at his kitchen then looking at me. The edge of his mouth tips up into a smile, and then he laughs and strolls in to dump his bag on the island (on the edge, where there are still a few centimeters of free space). He doesn’t stop walking until he’s right in front of me, taking the Pringles tin from my hands and dropping it on the counter beside me.

I get a heavy whiff of his spiced body wash as his hands come to my hips and he pivots us, walking me backward until my back hits the edge of the island.

“You’ve just showered,” I blurt out.

“Yeah. I had a late workout today. I called in the middle of it.”

That sends my brain spiraling with glorious images of him lifting heavy objects while sweat drips down his bare abs.

“Tell me about it?”

His dark brow quirks. “What do you want to know?”

“I’m trying to create a proper fantasy, but I don’t know what all you did. A bit of running? Did you lift some of those huge tires? Tell me everything,” I tease while my eyes flutter closed.

He laughs under his breath then leans in to press a kiss to my cheek. With my eyes closed, it feels even more intimate, and I don’t stop myself from resting my palms flat against his hard chest.

He tightens his hold on my hips and I stay perfectly still, wondering what will happen next. Will we sweep all this junk food aside and go at it right here in his kitchen? How sinful!

But when Logan’s mouth doesn’t immediately descend on mine, I open my eyes to find him studying me with a smile.

“So you spoke to your boss?” he asks, letting his gaze fall to my mouth.

I wet my bottom lip and his eyes narrow.

Oh…interesting.

“Yes. This morning.”

“And?”

“Well…it’s not against the rules per se to engage in…well…err, I don’t think I should call it dating yet, right? A bit presumptive of me.”

“You’re allowed to date me and you won’t be fired?”

“Ye—”

The S sound gets stolen by his lips as they crash down onto mine.

I’m so dead shocked I sort of flinch in fear until my brain can put two and two together and I realize I’m being kissed, properly kissed, by Logan Matthews!

He’s ace at it, by the way.

His mouth moves on mine and his lips are gentle at first, not too forceful or overly keen like some lads. At first, it’s like he’s testing the waters, making sure I’m okay with what he’s doing. I fist my hands in his shirt in case he tries to pull back. Not an option. Then he steps toward me to deepen the kiss, and the countertop bites into my lower back.