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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This wasn't a date...despite my knee bouncing, stomach twisting, and palms sweating.
Soothing jazz and sugar-filled baked goods filtered around me. The platter near my elbow to prove my weakness caved. If buying almost every item because I didn't know what she liked didn't show my nerves, my snowball of shredded napkins did.
The Perfect Brew was a block away, with small tables crammed with people reading and scrolling on their phones. Chill vibes, until the torrent of nerves wreaked havoc on my pulse.
"Josh?" Maya's voice called, making me give an awkward hand-raise greeting. A dark purple fitted sweater with a puffy scoop neck molded to her curves. She looked prepared for the office with a fitted gray skirt, heels, and a large black leather purse tucked against her side. Her lighter makeup and hair in a ponytail were beautiful, but did she own any casual clothes?
"You look nice," flew out before I pulled out her chair. "I hope this is okay."
"Thanks." Her eyes lit up at the iced caramel coffee, making me exhale. Successful choice. "How did you know?"
"Ellie saw two empty cups on your desk," I admitted. "She's very observant."
"The quiet ones are," she murmured, smiling around her sip, then doing some cute little shoulder wiggle. Her smile faded. "Josh, again, I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"If anything." I covered her hand with mine. It was warmer than my clammy version and smooth as silk beyond the ridges of her knuckles. "I should be sorry for not knowing."
"I don't want to cause any rifts on the team." Her eyes lowered to my hand, a slight pink filling her cheeks. "Promise our meeting is professional."
Professional. Which holding her hand, despite its comforts, wasn't. I pulled mine into my lap. She retrieved a tablet from her purse, showing my offer messages.
"Fine, but you have to eat something."
I'd ordered everything from cage-free eggs to bagels to a fruit bowl. Hopefully, she passed on the asiago because I was drooling over it. She picked up the everything bagel and spread all the cream cheese on, to a quarter-inch thickness.
Before I asked if she wanted more, she bit down and did some cute shoulder wiggle. Two white cream cheese flicks dotted the corners of her smile. She must have felt them, or my weird staring made her self-conscious because she wiped with her napkin and looked like I'd caught her doing something naughty.
"I like...cream cheese."
"That's not liking cream cheese." I picked up my dry bagel. "That's cream cheese with a side of bagel." The first bite exploded bready goodness in my mouth. "Mmm. So good."
Halfway through my second month of living with the Hightowers, how much I missed carbs slammed me with each bite of air-pocketed concentrated bread topped with a smokey crisp of cheese. I didn't care about having the cream cheese.
