Out of Bounds

He repeats the part about the game, but I roll my hand, the sign to back it up. “The other part?”

“Oh,” he says, with a laugh. “The part about you being in love? Yeah, Ally and I were talking this week, and we sort of figured out that’s why you’re a miserable sack of shit. You probably think it’s football-related, but I bet you’re missing the woman you were falling for.”

I drop my forehead to the counter. “I was totally fucking falling for her.”

Jason pats my shoulder. “Good thing it’s a bye week then. Bet you can find her if you try real hard. Or maybe not that hard. I can lob in a call and find out where she is.”

When I look up and stare out the window at the sun blazing beautifully in the sky and the ocean waves lapping the shore, I know exactly where she’d be on this kind of day off.





Chapter Fourteen

Drew

I can see the wave coming in, cresting across the sea.

She does too. Her focus is solely on the water. She paddles closer, gets up on the board, and rides the swell for a whole glorious minute, looking sexy as hell on the board, owning the waves. She rides until it flattens out. She drops down, holding the board and peering behind her, probably to see if another wave is coming. The water’s calm behind her, and when she glances in the direction of the sand, it takes a few seconds of hunting, but then she spots me. I’m standing in my board shorts, sunglasses on, my orange surfboard by my side.

I wave to her and walk across the hot sand to the wet crystals where the sea meets the shore. She paddles in my direction, and soon, she stands and steps out of the water, board by her side, looking as stunning as the day I met her.

Wait. Scratch that. More stunning. More gorgeous. Because I know her now, and I’m crazy about her, body, heart, and mind. She runs a hand over her wet hair, but says nothing.

“Heads up,” I say with a smile.

She frowns. “Heads up?” She looks back at the water, then again at me. “Shark coming? Wave about to crash over me?”

“No. Actually, it was a heads up for an idiot alert. Remember those?”

She raises her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. “I do. Is there an idiot who was going to drop into my wave?”

I shake my head. “No, but there’s another kind right in front of you.” I point at myself, and her lips curve into a smile.

“Is that so?”

I nod, big and long, owning it. “Yeah. The guy in front of you is a total idiot. Like, a complete jerk. He completely fucked up this situation with a woman, and he’s hoping she’ll give him another chance.”

“Is he now?” she asks, and her tone is no longer the cold one I felt the other night. I deserved that chill. Deserved it big time for thinking my feelings for her were the cause of my troubles on one given Sunday.

“Yep,” I say dryly. “And in case you didn’t know it, that idiot is me. So I’ll stop talking about myself in the third person.”

I set my surfboard down on the sand, and she does the same with hers. I reach for her hand, hoping she’ll take mine. She does, and here with her hand in mine, I’m reminded of how simple and easy things were with us, even when they were complicated. “I love holding your hand. Maybe that sounds corny. Maybe it is,” I say, but as I glance at our joined fingers, threaded together, it just feels right. “But being with you is like holding hands. We fit.”

“Drew,” she says, her voice soft and feathery.

“And I thought, stupidly, that I couldn’t have both. That doing well at work meant I couldn’t be with you. That I only had enough to give to one or the other. But as this incredibly amazing, brilliant, and beautiful woman pointed out, it’s possible to have both, because there are a million other factors that go into the game.”

“There are, Drew. There really are. I’m glad you know that.”

I clear my throat. “And, look, as long as I’m getting all my beauty sleep, and not missing practice, and keeping my head on straight, it’s not fair for me to think being with you is some sort of curse. Because it feels the opposite. It feels right and good and true.” I step closer, squeeze her hand harder. “Will you forgive me?”

“Of course,” she says as soon as the words come out of my mouth, and I love that there’s no need to reflect, no need to think on it. She’s ready, and I’m a lucky son of a bitch to have figured my shit out sooner rather than later. She lifts her hand and cups my cheek, and it feels so damn good to be touched by her. “Just don’t start freaking out if you lose, okay? Because it’ll happen. You’ll have bad days at work, and so will I. But we’ll have good days too. We just can’t let the bad days dictate how we feel about each other.”

I nod. “I know. I believe that. I promise that. I’ve just had a one-track mind for the game, and I guess I didn’t think there was room for love and football, but I was wrong.”

Her eyes widen when I say those two words—love and football.