After being cheated on by their long-term partners, can a pro-wide receiver and a PR agent remain friends with benefits without falling for each other?
I've been in love with Ava since I was fifteen. She was my first, my only, my everything, destroy...
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Josh? Was this a...setup? I sucked in a breath, and my heart did a giddy flip. He was really here. Damp hair, gray Wolves T-shirt, bag on his back—like coming home from practice.
His hand swallowed the door handle. "Maya."
I downed my glass in one drain. Dry, tart, liquid courage burst on my tastebuds and warmed my cheeks. "Hi."
"Hi."
A radiant smile brightened his handsome face. As if seeing me here was a pleasant surprise. Before I felt its flattery, he excused himself and disappeared down the hall. Beneath the slack of his sweatpants, his round ass twitched.
In the elevator, he and Logan always stood behind me; what a view I was missing out on—
Woah, hello, inappropriateness. Must be the wine's fault. Never mind it was barely south of my esophagus.
"Hi, baby." Logan kissed Ellie, and she made a noise of contentment. Him squeezing her closer was enviably sweet, but looking at me with no surprise in his eyes made me raise my eyebrows. "Hey, Maya."
"Hey." I breathed the word, coupled with an awkward elbow-to-hand wave.
"If not obvious, Josh lives here."
So, he did live here. With the Hightowers. Why? The practice team had the lowest salaries, yet still ten times mine. Yet, he still stayed here. Slept here. Showered here.
"So, Maya, any allergies?" My overly smiley hostess set the wine bottle down and scaled onto the counters, retrieving two glasses from an upper cabinet.
Despite navigating her space, a trust fall catch urge brought me near the crockpots, where every rainbow color of vegetables bubbled inside one. "No allergies. What are you making?"
"Leftovers." She leaped down with a bounce and handed Logan the glasses with an apologetic smile. "Cleaning out the fridge, sorry. Those are steamed mixed vegetables."
I eyed her dual fridges. "Both?" slipped out before I caught the word. Mixed veggies at home meant peas and carrots, but she had wilted leaves, red potatoes, white mushrooms, and some kinds of roots floating in...something. Whatever sauce she'd reduced smelled heavenly, rich, hearty, and comforting.
"Yep."
Logan's head remained directed at his wife as he filled the glasses with water from a fridge. "What were you two talking about?"
Her smile at me was gentle, but I hesitated because they'd entered right during my incriminating her.
My hand poised to knock, I blinked at the number 1010. Hightower's number? Nah, he couldn't be this—
The door flung open, jolting me back.
"Hi, Maya." In a UW sweatshirt and black leggings, Eleanor was more broke college student than franchise quarterback wife. Her gray Uggs screamed the same ultimate comfort vibe as their condo. If I had to guess, she preferred slouchy sweater comfort over opulent luxury.
