The Trouble With Quarterbacks(87)

“Are you serious?! We cooked all this food,” Kat protests, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Yes, sorry about that. Logan’s got the runs. He didn’t want me telling everybody, but well, there you have it. Don’t want him soiling his knickers at the dinner table, now do we? We’ll just take a few of these rolls for the road—they smell great. Good job, both of you. Jay, lovely place you have here. Love all the pink. We’ll be seeing you soon!”

“You’re lying!” Kat shouts as we hurry to leave.

“Am not! Logan will shove down his trousers and show you if you insist!”

Jesus. This girl will be the end of me.

“Quick, grab my purse there, Logan,” Candace says before forcing us to take off toward the door. She can’t get it herself because her arms are overloaded with rolls. “Bye now!” she shouts to them. “See you both soon!”

We don’t stop even once we’re out the door. We’re both laughing, and it only gets worse when Candace points down to the doormat. Sure enough, it reads “Welcome to Kat and Jay’s love nest!”

It sends her over the edge, laughing so hard she has tears in her eyes. I watch her, totally enamored, wondering what I did before she came into my life. Was I even alive?

I kiss her there in the hall, squashing her up against the wall so the rolls flatten out between us. She moans that they’re ruined, but I don’t care. I have to kiss her. I have to tell her I love her. Here in this hallway.

She blinks up at me totally stunned after I say it.

“What have you just said?!” She sounds a little hysterical.

“I love you,” I repeat, holding her gaze.

“Oh my god!” She throws a roll at me so it bounces off my head and lands with a dull thud on the floor. “You’ve just said it now—here, of all places?! I’ve got mascara running down my cheeks from laughing so hard.”

“Yes, well, you’re always laughing. It would be hard to find a time to tell you when you’re being serious,” I say, yanking her back toward me. “But that’s just it—it’s part of the reason I can’t get you out of my head. You’re crazy,” I say, wiping her cheeks. “And I love you.”

“Right.” She pats my chest. “Well, sorry you’re so in love with me! Wish I could say the same, but I have loads of boys running after me and I—”

“Candace, say it.”

“I really can’t.”

“Yes you can.”

One of Jay’s neighbors walks out of their apartment, an old woman with a scarf tied around her head and a yappy little dog at her feet.

“No canoodling in the halls!” she chides us as she passes to head for the stairs nearby.

Once she’s gone, Candace locks eyes with me again and presses her lips together to keep from laughing.

“It’s fine if you can’t say it,” I say, turning away and walking off without her.

“Oh no you don’t!” Another roll hits me square in the back. She’s got a pretty good arm. “No reverse psychology here, mister! I love you, do you hear me?! I love you!”

“Hey! Keep it down out there!” another neighbor shouts.

Candace runs and takes my hand so we can hurry off to the elevator together.

I make her say it again before I kiss her against the back wall as the elevator slides down to ground level.

“I can’t believe you want me to say it again,” she teases. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m totally mad about you! You’re so handsome and sweet and not at all how a professional foosball player should be.”

“Football player,” I correct.

“What’s the difference?” she asks before rising up and pressing her mouth to mine.





Epilogue





Candace





“SACK HIM, YOU BLITHERING IDIOTS! DO SOMETHING!”

Our defense is asleep. They have to be. That’s the only reason Green Bay’s quarterback manages to complete a twenty-yard pass, which is caught far too close to the end zone. I shout in anger and try not to resort to any more curse words. I’ve already met my yearly quota.

Then I look back at Yasmine and Kat, hoping to get some assistance or at least see they’re as upset by the game’s turn of events as I am, but the two of them are sitting on their arses, munching away on all the food provided in our private suite at the stadium, completely unbothered that we’re close to letting Green Bay score and take the lead.

“Aren’t you two going to get up and help me?!”

“Help with what? You shouting your head off won’t change anything. Just tell your fiancé to start throwing some touchdowns. How about that?” Kat says, sucking the mustard off her fingers. This is her second hot dog of the quarter.

“Right. Some help you two are.”

“I can’t get up. What do you want me to do? The doctor says shouting is bad for the baby. You shouldn’t be shouting either. I’m sure she’s in my belly listening and thinking her auntie is a loon.”

Right. Kat is knocked up. She’s only about four months along, but the way she whinges on, you’d think she was 43 1/2 months pregnant.

She’s over there with her feet elevated and a heating pad stuffed behind her lower back. Oh good grief. She doesn’t even have a proper bump yet!