Out of Bounds

Then it hits me, what she just said—the goose egg is gone. The bump on my head has vanished. She might only have come along for a drink to make sure I wasn’t wounded. But I don’t want this time with her to end. I sit up straighter. “Does that mean you need to cash out, or can you have another?”

She smiles and tips her forehead in the direction of the street. “Since I live just a few blocks away I can absolutely have another drink. But what about you? Do you need to drive somewhere? I can’t let you get into a car if you’re tipsy,” she says in a tone that tells me she’s looking out for me. I’d be willing to bet Dani is a big sister. She’s got “worried older sibling” written all over her.

But I can handle a drink just fine, thanks to my size. I laugh as I point at my chest. “I’m two hundred and fifty pounds. I can have two beers and drive safely.” I take a beat, then inch closer. “But I do like your concern,” I say, as I lift my hand and a tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Just don’t want anything to happen to you,” she says, her eyes never straying from mine, as I run my fingers down the strand.

“I’m not going anywhere right now, Dani.”

She licks her lips, and a bolt of lust crashes down my spine. Just from the flirting. Damn, if touching her hair feels this good, I can only imagine what it would be like to do a whole lot more. Kiss her. Push her up against the wall. Mold her body against mine.

“Let’s get those drinks,” I say before my mind and body stray too far in the dirty direction.

We chat through another round, shooting the breeze about surfing and sunsets, the merits of cereal versus eggs for breakfast, and the pros and cons of driving with or without a traffic app in Los Angeles. Wonderfully, nothing about football or my career has come up. The conversation is casual and comfortable. Considering the last year has been bumpy and tense, I’ll take this kind of night, especially with the way the preseason has been a big old mess of uncertainty.

When it’s time to go, I offer to walk her home.

She gazes at me, like she’s sizing up my offer. “Yes, but just home. To the porch.” She holds up her hands, almost in apology.

“I’m simply being a gentleman, Dani,” I say, with a smile, and then we walk along the boardwalk and cut into the neighborhood. “Will you come back tomorrow to get your board?”

“Daisy at the surf shop will take good care of Betty.”

I laugh. “You really named your surfboard?”

She nods. “Daisy insisted on it. She said all boards should be humanized. So mine’s Betty, and she’s a girl.”

“Obviously,” I say. “And mine’s a dude. His name is Randy. He’s one of the wild humping surfboards.”

She winks as she laughs.

I pat the back of my head. “See? The brain’s working just fine after the whacking.”

“Indeed it is.”

When we reach her home, a cute little white bungalow, she gestures to the porch. It’s teeming with potted plants and flowers, as well as pizza coupons and takeout menus stuffed behind the mailbox next to the doorway. “Thank you, Andrew. For the drinks and the escort service.”

I wiggle my eyebrows because she says escort in kind of a naughty way. “And thank you for the surf angel-slash-nurse work.”

“My pleasure. I was happy to save a guy in distress.”

I narrow my eyes and protest her description. “Hey now. I’m not a dude in distress.”

She whispers “just kidding” as she leans against her porch railing. I don’t think it’s intentional, but that pose shows off all her assets. The swell of her breasts in her tank dress, her curvy hips, her strong legs. This woman just fucking does something to me. Turns me on, that’s what she does. Makes me hard as hell. Though she’s made it clear that the night ends right here, I intend to make the most of this good-bye.

I move closer to her and run my hand down her arm. I watch as goose bumps rise in its wake. My voice goes low. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?”

She tilts her head to the side. “What would that be, Andrew?”

It still sounds funny to hear her call me that. But next time I see her I’ll tell her that everyone calls me Drew. With my other hand, I brush her hair off her shoulder, cataloging her reaction to my touch. The way she shivers. How she sways closer. The rush of breath on her lips. I bring my mouth to her ear, and whisper. “What it would be like to kiss you.”

I pull back, wanting to look at her. Her lips are parted, then she licks them and swallows. It’s like she’s taking a step closer, saying go for it. “You should absolutely find out then,” she says, soft and inviting.

My fingers travel from her shoulder, up to her hair, and I rope my hand through those blond locks. I pull her close, savoring the warm feel of her sun-kissed skin and the smell of sand, surf, and sunshine in her hair.