“Hey, gorgeous.”
I smiled and felt the giddiness of butterflies in my belly. I missed him already.
“I’m home.”
“That’s too bad. I wish you were still in San Antonio.”
“Me too,” I whispered. I sat on the couch.
“I was
thinking I could drive up Friday after practice. We don’t practice on Saturdays and we have a home game Sunday. I can make it back to San Antonio with plenty of time.”
“That could work. But I do have practice Saturday morning.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep your bed warm for you until you get back.”
I felt the stirring sensation in my core. Holy hell. I hadn’t thought what it would be like to have Sam here in my apartment, or in my bed. Suddenly Friday seemed like an eternity.
“Promise?”
“I do.”
I smiled. I could get used to this. Sexy conversations on the phone. Torrid nights that no one knew about. There was a thrill to the secrecy that I was starting to like.
“What are you going to do for the rest of the night?” I asked. I didn’t know much about Sam’s life other than he played football.
“Probably watch footage for the Sunday game.”
“Oh.” Maybe there wasn’t more to him than football. I felt a slight sinking feeling.
“And probably make some dinner.”
“Do you cook?”
“Yes, I cook. Do you cook?”
“No. I’m the worst cook.” I ate cereal and salads. Anything with more directions and I would burn it.
“Then good thing you met me. I’m basically a chef. Should have gone to culinary school.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “There’s not as much money in whipping up a mean pasta as there is in catching a leather ball.”
“I keep forgetting.”
“I like that you forget. You don’t give a shit I play football, do you?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“And you know I don’t care you’re on a dance team, right?”
“I do know that.”
“Good, because it doesn’t matter to me. But I was thinking about something today after you left.”
“What’s that?” I asked.