next to me. She needed a new car. This week. God only knew how many more miles she had before that thing stranded her on the side of the road, and the safety standards were at least three decades old.
After making sure both the gate and the garage were closed, I grabbed my away bag and a much smaller one and headed inside. My pulse jumped up a notch, and I couldn’t deny the smile on my face as I walked in through the mudroom, dropping my bag at the washing machine and ditching my suit coat. I’d unpack later, after I’d seen Liberty.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called out like we were in a fifties sitcom as my feet hit the hardwood of the kitchen.
“Nixon?” Liberty dropped her pencil onto a pile of open notebooks that lay scattered across the island. “I thought you weren’t going to be home until later?”
“Don’t look too happy to see me or anything,” I teased, setting the gift bag down on the counter and grabbing two recovery drinks from the refrigerator.
“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it that way,” she assured me, catching the drink that I slid across the granite at her. “I just would have cleaned up all my school stuff.”
“And added it to the pile in the dining room?” I nodded toward what had once been a formal dining room, but was now Liberty’s study, and twisted the top off my drink.
“Guilty.” Her cheeks flushed.
“I know.” I shrugged, then drank half the bottle. Flying always sucked the water right out of me, and after a hell of a game in Baltimore this afternoon, I could use all the hydration I could get.
“You don’t mind coming home to a mess?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.
“I like coming home to you.” I loosened my tie and leaned on my elbows, facing her across the island.
Her lips parted, and my chest tightened as that perpetual electricity that wove itself around us rose again. It had been two weeks since I’d pinned her to the locker room door and made her my personal post-game dessert, and we still hadn’t had the what does this mean conversation, which basically meant we were stuck in sexual and emotional limbo.
But it wasn’t like we’d had a lot of time. With the season in full swing and Liberty knee-deep in her dissertation, we were both busy as hell, preoccupied, and pretty much doing everything we could to ignore the elephant in the room just in case we didn’t like what the other one had to say. Communication wasn’t our strong point. It wasn’t even our weak point. It wasn’t a point at all because it didn’t exist.
“I like being here when you come home,” she said softly.
“Good.” And just like that, I wanted her. Hell, it was pretty much a constant thing these days. She could probably offer me a sandwich, and I’d get hard for her.
“Nice tie.”
“Coach’s rules.” I’d have it off as soon as I got upstairs.
“You did great today.”
“You watched?” My eyebrows rose, and a bubble of pride worked its way up my throat. We’d handed Baltimore their ass, and I’d thrown for two-hundred-and-sixty yards.
“Of course, I did.” She tilted her head at me. “Remember, I’ve been watching you long before you ever started watching me. You were my celebrity crush.”
“Huh. Right. I do remember something about a giant cardboard cutout.” That bubble expanded, making me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.
“It’s not like you were shirtless or anything,” she mumbled, but I heard her.
“Tell you what. You just let me know when and where to show up, and I’ll watch you study. Day. Night. Afternoons. The dining room table. The library. It’s on. I’ll even get a jersey made.” A corner of my lips lifted in a smirk.
“Geeze, you don’t have to get all stalkery or anything,” she teased. “I mean, I know someone with my impressive GPA is going to pull the stats that bring the fans, but I have to tell you, there’s a line between my professional life and my personal one, and I take it very seriously.”
“Oh, do you?” I laughed.
She sighed dramatically. “You have no idea what it’s like to be hounded by legions of adoring fans.”
“I only care about one fan.” I quickly downed the rest of my drink to keep from seeing her reaction to my unintentional confession.
“Don’t you want to know what my favorite part of the game was?” she questioned, rolling her pencil over her notebook.
“I’d rather