To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(60)

By late afternoon, the kids had to leave and I was starving. So was she. Covering her stomach when it let out a hearty growl, she said, “Where’s this corn dog stand you were raving about again?”

Our exertions had left a rosy glow on her cheeks. And her eyes...damn, her green eyes were alive and glittering. I think I could’ve stared at her all day, just like that.

“What?” she asked, sending me an odd glance as she took down the ponytail she’d put her hair up in earlier when we’d started the game. As she finger combed the mass and let it spill down her back, I shook my head. Who was this woman, and how had I gotten lucky enough to get her for an entire day?

No one would believe me it I tried to tell them Dr. Kavanagh ate corn dogs, and finger combed her hair, and flirted with a bunch of preteen boys before sticking her tongue out at them after making a touchdown. But I was glad they’d never suspected. I was glad I had her all to myself.

“Nothing,” I murmured, reaching out to take her hand. “Let’s find that stand.”

After buying six corn dogs between the two of us, we found an empty picnic bench and sat across from each other as we ate. I liked seeing her appetite. She didn’t seem shy about eating in front of me, or ordering two sticks. And the way her lips puckered when she took a dog between her teeth was, well, I just couldn’t watch much of that. My head was already in a place it didn’t need to go. But even after I glanced away, I was still keyed up and aching to touch her.

“You know,” she said, thoughtfully, as she polished off her first corn dog and started on the next. “I don’t think I know what your major is.”

I glanced over. “Business management. Why?”

Her eyebrows lifted. With her mouth full, she muffled out the word, “Really?”

I shrugged and tossed one of my empty sticks toward a nearby trashcan, sinking it. “Well, you know, I’m not good at English. And math and science aren’t my thing either. History’s never interested me, but I’m decent in social situations, and I really like leading the team on the field. They listen to me, and I don’t know, kind of look up to me. That was one thing I know I can do, so I stuck to that in case, you know, the NFL doesn’t want me.”

“But you really do like football, don’t you.” She said it more as a statement than a question, as if she was just then realizing the answer.

“Of course. Why would I play if I hated it?”

“I don’t know.” One side of her shoulders lifted. “You just...after that day in my office when you said it was about desperation, I didn’t think it was what you loved more than anything in the world.”

“It’s...” Fuck, how did I explain this? “I don’t know. Getting into football in high school is what finally earned me the respect of some of my classmates. My natural talent gave me this rush that was...addictive. I love the game and crave that split second you have to think and react, strategize what the best play for that moment is before five hundred pounds of the defensive line tackles you. I like learning more of the tricks of the trade since I came to Ellamore, but...there’s a lot more pressure now. A lot more on the line. It’s not just fun anymore. Now, it’s everything, which takes out a little of the pleasure. But, yeah, to answer your question, I still like it. I love it.”

Aspen nodded, letting me know she understood. “If you could do or be anything in the world, without any consequences or worries, what would you do?”

The first thing that popped into my mind was her. I’d be with her. But I knew she meant occupation-wise. I shrugged. “Don’t know. I can’t really think of anything I like more than football.”

“Would you teach it to others if you couldn’t play anymore? You did really well with those boys today. I think you’d make a great coach.”

“Huh.” I hadn’t thought about that before. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Her back straightened as she preened. “I know. But seriously, you’re smart enough to do anything you want. I just wanted to make sure football was what you loved most.”

I blinked and shook my head. “Did you just call me...smart?” Someone color me shocked.

She furrowed her brow. “Of course you’re smart. I always knew that. It takes a mad set of brains to always say the exact thing in class you know will tick me off the most.”

Laughing, I shook my head and finished off my fourth corn dog, but inside I was still flattered she’d called me smart. When I spotted another food stand not far away, I dusted the crumbs off my fingers and turned my attention back to her. “Okay. Enough about me. I want to hear more about you.”

Her smile was a little uncertain. “Me? What do you want to know about me?”

Leaning a little across the table, I sent her a look as if to tell her to brace herself because this was a serious question. With my voice lowered, I asked, “What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

She blinked and then threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t know. Vanilla?”

Wrinkling my nose, I exploded, “Vanilla? Who the hell prefers vanilla over all the other flavors out there?”

“Hey!” she scolded, half-laughing and half-insulted. “Don’t bash my tastes. What’s your favorite?”

“Easy. Rocky Road.”