Beauty and the Baller
“Nova?”
My breath hitches. “Ronan?”
“Are you in the closet?”
I stumble up, wobbling on my heels. “Don’t come in here!”
He opens the door and blinks at me as I cling to the table. God, he looks amazing—okay, maybe a little tired and haggard. There’re shadows under his eyes, and his hair is everywhere, messy pretty, accentuating his sharp jawline.
“What are you doing here?” My eyes eat him up, from the deep-blue shirt to his snug gray slacks.
I glance down. My blouse became untucked on the floor, my skirt is askew, and my hair spills out of my rubber band.
He steps inside. “Are you rolling around in my clothes?”
“No. Yes. For a second. Low blood sugar probably.”
His lips twitch.
“Don’t you say a word! I was just . . .” I sigh. “Sniffing shirts and plotting which ones to steal.”
“I’d like to see you wearing them.”
My hands clench. “You haven’t called or texted or—”
He comes forward and sweeps me up into his arms, bridal-style.
I squeal. “What are you doing?”
His eyes capture mine. “I missed you.”
My lips tremble. “I didn’t miss you.”
“Liar. I’ve been looking for you. The lounge, the closets, your room . . .”
“I wanted to be alone.”
“With my shirts?”
I exhale, trying to ignore him, but it’s hard with the adoring looks he’s giving me.
Without letting me down, he strides out of the closet, somehow manages to lock the office door, and then sits down on a small couch.
I wiggle and rearrange myself, straddling him near his knees, not caring that my skirt is up to my hips.
He lets out a long exhale. “We need to talk. First, I turned down the job.”
My mouth parts, and I slap him on the arm. “What? Why? That was what you wanted!”
A wry expression crosses his face. “A person can want something at one point in their life, then want something entirely different later, especially after they’ve realized what’s important.”
My heart flies, hope fluttering inside me that he’s not leaving, but . . . “Use real words.”
He chuckles as his fingers graze over my cheek and down to my throat. His hand rests at the base of my neck. “Where’s my necklace?”
I sniff. “I forgot it this morning.”
“I’m gone for two and a half days, and you’re already moving on? I can’t ever leave you alone again.” His hand goes around my nape, and he pulls me to him and kisses me hard. I gasp and cling to his shoulders, devouring his taste, the feel of his lips. He’s an invader, delving deep, his fingers digging into my scalp. We end with smaller, gentler kisses, soft brushes over and over . . .
Our breaths mingle when we part.
He holds my face and peers deep into my eyes. “I. Love. You. With everything inside me. I love your . . .” His voice thickens. “Wow. I had this whole speech planned out, but it’s up in smoke.”
“Do continue.”
He brushes his fingers over my swollen lips. “Princess, when I love someone, it’s with my soul. It’s full commitment. It’s a relationship that will grow, evolve, and change to fit us. I won’t ever stop trying to be the best man I can be. I won’t give up on us, through thick and thin.”
“Is that why you said no to the job?”
“It affected it, yes. As soon as I left Texas, something wasn’t right. I wanted you. I missed Lois and Skeeter. I wanted my team. I wanted to be celebrating with them at Randy’s Roadhouse. Do I want to coach in the NFL someday? Maybe. Would I like it to be the Pythons? Sure. They’re a great franchise, and New York was my home—in a different life. The truth is I’m not ready.”
I trace his scar. “You can do anything you want. I believe in you.”
He smiles. “I need more experience; that’s for sure. I don’t know everything I need to know right now about coaching. I need more trophies and time with the Bobcats. More talks with you. If I took that job, it would take over my life. Life is too damn short to be lonely, Nova. It’s too short to give up on having something real with the one person I love.”
I sigh. “Oh.”
“My gut knew New York wasn’t the right choice.” He pauses and cups my face. “I knew exactly which road to take, and it was back to you, but I had to get past my fear of losing you, of letting you down . . .”
“Did you?”
He hugs me close to his chest, his hand running down my hair. “Honestly, I may never stop being overly cautious or a nervous Nellie about some things, but we can deal with it as it comes. I want love. It’s a gift. My heart is yours. You took a sledgehammer and beat the shit out of it.”