Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,88

right to me.”

“It feels right to me too.” She presses a kiss on my pec. My cock makes a halfhearted attempt at rousing, like it might be down for some action, but my muscles feel like jelly. I don’t think I can physically have sex with her again tonight.

I’m a professional athlete who’s expected to go nonstop, and I need to rest after having too much sex. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.

But I’m not complaining.

“I have a question,” Eleanor suddenly says, her voice hesitant.

What’s that about.

Frowning, I glance down at her to find she’s already watching me. “What?”

“Did you actually rate me? On the dating app?”

I chuckle, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Nope. I guess I should. Ten out of ten. Five stars. Superior status. Whatever scale they use, you’re at the top.”

“So are you.” She laughs as she rests her cheek on my chest. “Tomorrow we should look over a calendar and compare each other’s schedules.”

“And delete all dating apps from our phones,” I add.

“Most definitely.” She’s quiet for a moment before she says, “I’m sure you’re going to get super busy with football.”

“Very busy,” I agree. “And I want you to come to some of my games.”

“I totally want to go to them!” She lifts her head, smiling at me. Her hair is a mess. Her eyelids are at half-mast and she looks exhausted.

And happy. So happy.

“Good.” I give her a squeeze. “Have you ever been to a NFL game before?”

“No, we never got around to it, though we always meant to.” She makes a face. “My family…we’re all Niner fans.”

“We?” I lift my brows.

“Joe Montana is the king,” she whispers.

“Overrated,” I say, though I’m teasing her.

Her mouth drops open. “Those are fighting words.”

“Please. Claiming you’re a Niner fan when I play for the Raiders? Them’s fighting words, lady.” I start tickling her, my fingers wiggling against her ribs, and she bats my hands away, both of us laughing.

Soon our laughter stops and my mind drifts. My eyes close. I got my woman in my arms and I’ve never felt so content.

Life is good.

Epilogue

Eleanor

Seven months later…

A new year means new beginnings, and I’m in the throes of creating beginnings all over the place. I quit my job. Just moved out of my apartment. Packed up all my stuff—and do I have a lot of stuff—and hired a moving company to take my belongings to Las Vegas.

Yep, Mitch and I are moving in together.

I know I said I never thought I could live in Las Vegas, but when a woman finds a good man and falls in love with him? She’ll do just about anything to make it work. And since Mitch is the one who’s stuck in Las Vegas due to his profession, I happily agreed to live with him.

Plus, come on. Las Vegas is like the marriage capital of the world. So many places to get married at! This city is right up my alley.

Anyway, Mitch bought a house a few months ago, and oh my God, it’s so gorgeous. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, with an open-concept kitchen and a beautiful backyard with a pool. It’s brand new—everything inside is white and gleaming and perfect and we’re going to make this place ours.

We’re headed to the house now to meet the movers. Mitch took most of his belongings in almost a week ago, right before he had a playoff game. He came back a few days ago after his team won, and he’s been on a perma-high ever since. I arrived in Las Vegas last night on a one-way ticket.

This is my town now, and I’m so excited. Beyond ready to create this new life with Mitch. Of course, I’m going to miss my friends terribly. We had a big cry fest together a few nights ago. We all gathered at Tuscany, the restaurant Stella’s brothers own, and ate delicious Italian food and drank a lot of wine. We cried and laughed and talked about fun times together, and at one point I told them this wasn’t a funeral. I’ll be back. And they can come visit me in Sin City whenever they want.

They all cheered when I made that offer.

And I mean it. I want them to visit me as much as possible. It’s going to be weird, not being able to see my friends on a regular basis, but that’s what texting and FaceTime is for. Living in Las Vegas isn’t forever either. Mitch told me he doesn’t see himself lasting beyond a