Page 99 of Even Exchange

My cheeks flush pink. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he says, dragging his thumb along my jaw. “Whatever life throws at you, you just keep going. You don’t lose hope.” He presses a kiss on my lips. “You keep wishing on dandelions.”

I place my hand on his. “I’d argueyou’rethesoffione,” I say in a terrible Italian accent.

Noah grins. “Sorry, the nickname has already been assigned.” He holds up his dandelion with a cocked brow. “Make a wish,” says the man who doesn’t believe in wishing, and my chest warms.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, then blow on the little flower. When my eyes pop open, I see he’s done the same, his gaze following the petals drifting in the wind.

“Look at you becoming a serial dandelion wisher,” I say.

“There’s a lot out of my control these days,” he replies, and we continue down the path.

Guilt surrounds me for being one of those unexpected things. “Like when your best friend volunteers you to be her fake boyfriend?”

“No,” he says quickly, relieving my anxiety. “You’re helping me too, remember?”

“How have I helped you so far?”

“The orgasms have beenexcellent,” he says, and my jaw drops open. Given our new sleeping situation, we’ve been having some morning lessons. Which have, in fact, beenexcellent.

“Noah!” I push his shoulder. “Be serious.”

“I am,” he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to a stop, eyes holding mine. “I promise you this little arrangement is one of the only thingsnotstressing me.”

“And what is?” I press. “Stressing you?”

Is he still worried about the nightmare?

“It’s not important.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“That’s literally the point of this, remember? Anevenexchange?”

He rolls his eyes with a huff. “I’m fine.”

“And how are the punt bunnies doing?” I ask.

“Well, I haven’t posted anything with you yet,” he says as if I’m not acutely aware of this fact. “So… still pretty crazy.”

“Then post something?” I suggest, stomach in my throat. As if the thought of us officially hard-launching our relationship so publicly doesn’t scare the hell out of me. But we did agree to an even exchange.

“I don’t have any good pictures of us alone.”

“Then let’s take one,” I suggest, forcing my nerves to relax.

“You sure?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

“Absolutely.”Not at all.

“Great,” he says, pulling out his phone and holding the camera up for a selfie.

“Hey!”

I turn to find Andi running up to us, trailed by a shirtless Kensington Knox, defensive cornerback for the Tampa Barracudas. His muscles are huge, dark skin covered in tattoos, and he’s dripping in sweat.

Hot.

“Hey,” Noah says, waving to Andi and his new teammate who came to coach for a day of training.

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