Me: Fine. Can I at least call you?
Parker: You just saw me.
Me: Not long enough.
Parker: Autumn and I are making dinner.
Me: Great. What can I bring?
I laugh as I hit send. I can see her rolling those pretty blue eyes of hers and probably biting down on her bottom lip. Fuck me, but I want to kiss her. I don’t think I’ve ever craved a kiss in my life, but I do with her.
Parker: You’re not invited.
Me: You wound me, sweet pea.
Her reply is an eye roll emoji. I don’t have to look in the mirror to see the smile lighting up my face. She knows how to keep me on my toes. That should worry me, but it just intrigues me more.
Me: Can we talk later?
I’m trying not to sound desperate for little scraps of her time, but that’s what it’s starting to feel like. It’s almost as if my time watching her work this week has switched something inside me. She’s dedicated, and her sass… fuck me, do I love her sass. I watched her that first day, and she looked stressed, so I decided to let her be. I didn’t want to be responsible for her missing out on study. She was already there by the time I got to the café on Tuesday, and she was deep into her studies, and I chose to let her be again. Wednesday and Thursday were the same way. Today, however, I needed to talk to her. I watched her work for hours and knew she had to be hungry. She needed more sustenance than just the caffeine she seemed to be living on while she was here. I slipped out and went across the street to grab her something, and well, here we are. I have her number and the challenge for us to get to know each other slowly.
Challenge accepted.
Parker: I’ll see what I can do.
Me: That’s not a no.
I see the bubbles that she’s responding pop up and then disappear. Finally, her reply comes through.
Parker: It’s not a no.
I don’t reply, knowing she’s with her roommate, and I’ve pressed my luck pretty far today. I’m not going to keep texting and piss her off. I know I have to have limits when it comes to her, and that’s a struggle for me. I’m one of those people who knows what I want, and I don’t stop until I achieve it. Parker Monroe is on my list of wants. However, I think it might be more than that. Pushing that thought out of my head, I put my truck in drive and head home.
I’ve spent the past four hours in my room at my parents’ house on my laptop looking for my own place. The team offered to put me up in a condo, but I knew that would break my mother’s heart. So here I am in my childhood bedroom. Thankfully it has been redecorated. I love my parents, but I’m twenty-three, and I have a multimillion-dollar contract. I need my own place. It’s time to make that happen.
I’ve searched through a ton of listings and contacted a local real estate agent for showings. I’d like to be in my own place before we start off-season workouts in late January. I have about a month to make that happen.
There’s a knock on my door just as I’m closing my computer. “Come in,” I call out.
“Hey.” Mom smiles as she comes in carrying a plate. “I brought you some dinner.”
“Thank you. I would have come downstairs.”
“Meh, it was nothing. It’s just leftover pot roast from last night.”
“I’m starving,” I confess.
“What have you been doing locked away up here all evening?”
“House hunting,” I say, reaching for the bowl and taking a hearty bite. My mother is the best cook in the state of Tennessee. Hands down.
“You know you can stay here.”
“I know that. But I need my own space.” Thoughts of Parker flash through my mind. I want her, and I don’t want her in my childhood bedroom. Sure, that was always a fantasy, and I snuck girls up here in high school, but I’m going to need to take my time with Parker, and I want her screaming my name. Yeah, not here. Not her.
“A mom can dream.” She laughs.
“I’m local now. You’ll be seeing so much of me you’ll be sick of me.”
“That could never happen. Besides, once the season starts, we’ll never see you.”
“Yeah, but on my days off, we can visit, whereas we didn’t before. So regardless, you’re going to still be seeing a lot more of me.”
“Perfect.”
I smile and shake my head before taking another bite. Man, this is good. “Where’s Dad?”
“Asleep in the chair.” She smiles fondly, just like she always does when she’s talking about my dad or me. He does the same. My parents were high school sweethearts, and they’re still madly in love. I was lucky growing up. So many of my friends had parents who split up or, worse, fought all the time. Stephen and Ashley Bailey are the poster couple for a happy marriage.