“It’s really too beautiful,” she said haltingly. “For me.”
“Come on.” I took her hand and led her to the blanket. We sat down and I threw the second blanket over our legs. Thank fuck the barn was heated. These boosters were some rich mo-fo’s.
I poured some wine for Cate and snatched a beer from the cooler for myself. I’d already eaten a shit-ton with the guys after practice, which was good because this girlie food wasn’t going to cut it.
“Cheers.” I knocked my bottle into her glass and passed her a plate.
We ate and made boring small talk. I told her about Mo knocking Angela up, the fight with D, and how things had settled.
“Kind of crazy, isn’t it? Having a baby in college?” She ran her hand through her hair, shifting it behind her ear.
“I guess, but Mo’s graduating and he’s gonna make good money, so I guess she’ll tag along.”
Cate seemed to think for a beat. “But she may want to finish her degree. Have a fallback.”
“There’s my little feminist . . . a short stack, but mighty.”
“Seriously, you don’t know what will happen in life. She could follow Mo, and then he could leave her high and dry later.”
“He could, but I don’t think he will. They’re having a baby. He’s doing the right thing.”
She shrugged and took a sip of her wine.
“You’ve changed so much in the last few weeks, drinking and now just settling for my answer. When I first met you, you would have made me drive you to Angela so you could pound some sense into her head.” I stroked her arm. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Like I told you, I’m figuring stuff out.”
“Tell me about this project.”
She smirked at me. “I would, but then I’d have to kill you, and I think the team would be pretty upset.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Tell me about you,” she said, changing the subject. “What’s coming up on the schedule? What does Coach say?”
Secretly, I loved Cate’s interest in sports. It wasn’t fake. She liked to see us play enough to sneak around to do it, and she always asked about it.
I didn’t love whatever was going on inside her head and this secret project. Seemed to me she was in over her head, but who was I? A dumb jock. What the hell did I know?
“My mom and my dad are coming the same weekend,” I told her. “Next week to see the game against Pitt.”
“Really?”
“Not by coincidence either. My mom is a glutton for romance . . . and punishment. She’s chasing my dad around again.”
Cate huffed. “At least they can be civil. My parents can’t be within fifty feet of each other without tearing each other’s eyeballs out.”
I laughed hard and took a long pull of my beer. “My parents will fuck and then pull each other’s eyeballs out. I don’t know what’s better. And this is a big fucking game.”
Tired of the small talk, I set aside my beer and pulled Cate close until she landed on my lap. I reached over to grab a strawberry and ran it over her lips. Her tongue peeked out to taste the chocolate.
Holding the strawberry just out of her reach, I said, “I want to kiss you.” Or maybe I asked, because I didn’t know what she wanted, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I’d never had to think about it before . . . or ask.
“You’re quite the romantic,” she said, her brown eyes jumping with curiosity.
I liked that about her. I excited her and she didn’t even know it.
“My mom writes romance, did you know? She must’ve rubbed off on poor me.”
She didn’t say anything, just stared at me like she was trying to understand the opposing team’s plays. My cock was hard as shit, and my heart raced like I was at center court. I both loved and hated it. My whole life was ahead of me, and yeah, I wanted more. But was this it? This tiny outspoken woman from New Jersey who seemed to be so sure, yet unsure of herself?
Was I settling? I almost laughed out loud at how fucking ridiculous that sounded. I was on a date; it wasn’t a honeymoon or a lifetime of promises, no matter how deeply she looked into my eyes.
I tossed the strawberry aside and leaned in to kiss Cate. “Is this okay?”
And there it was, that sensitive part of me. I’d been raised by mostly my mom, and she and my dad might be fucked up but she didn’t raise me to be that way. She’d be mortified if she knew how I’d made my way through women like they were sweatbands these past few years. One thing for sure—I’d never forced myself on them, but I definitely took what was being offered.
And here I was asking if a kiss was okay.
To me, it felt way better than okay.
My tongue sought refuge in her mouth, fucking it while my hand stroked her back. Her soft moans vibrated against my tongue, and I swallowed each one as if I were starving.