Page 34 of A Game Plan for Love

I pause, and then, “Who thefuckis Sharon?!”, tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I try to pull away from him, but his grip tightens, and his chest begins to rumble.

“Are youjealous?”

I’ve spent the last five days since our date thinking about him, he’s met my daughter, and he just held me in his arms while I cried. Of course, I’m mildly jealous when he mentions another woman. Whether he understands it or not, agreeing to a date puts me in a vulnerable position with my job, heart, and daughter.

I gave him the titles of the Justin Beiber fan fiction I love, for fucks sake. I have every right to be jealous.

“You didn’t answer the question,” I volley back.

I hold his gaze, and his lip quirks. “Sharon is my therapist.”

“Oh.”

“Haven’t even kissed you yet, and you’re already prepared to fight someone for me, Gladiator style.”

The smugness in his voice is both incredibly charming and irritating as hell. Mostly because he’s right on the mark.

“I have to get back to work,” I say, ducking below his arm, but he drags me deeper into the room and stops in front of a shelf full of shoe boxes.

His hand envelops mine as he searches the shelf. “ I know I hid it here somewhere… Aha!”

Declan holds an old shoebox—beat down and ripped in areas—and guides us deeper into the room, then drops to the floor and flips the cardboard lid open.

There are ten different kinds of snacks—ones full of processed sugar and hard-to-pronounce ingredients—and he flips them over so they fall onto the floor.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says, ripping open a bag of Funyuns. The scent of artificial onion flavoring fills the air. “I hide these here for bad days, or if my friends are cranky. Sometimes a good snack can solve the problem.”

I take a bag of animal crackers and a KitKat, then place the rest back into the box. The area is tight, and Declan’s thighs are pressed against mine, the heat from his skin searing into mine.

“Do you hide in here often?”

There’s a hint of comfort by the way he lounges in the back corner of the room, like he’s spent some time in this small area, hiding from something.

“Yeah. A lot at the end of last season. I think Coach Barrett caught on, but he never said anything when I would disappear for a few minutes.”

“Why?” The only sound is the crinkle of the wrapper. I’ve overstepped; that much is clear. “Sorry, I—”

“I lost someone very close to me last year, and sometimes I needed a moment to compose myself.”

His head drops, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. “Your secret spot is safe with me. And your stash of Funyuns.”

“I love them so much, even if they’re nothing but chemicals.”

He sucks on the pad of his thumb to clean the crumbs and my core clenches.

Yep, time to go. Before I do something insanely stupid like put his thumb inmymouth.

“I should get back to work.”

Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I slip out into the hallway.

The bright fluorescent lights clear the haze, and some of his words come flooding back to the forefront of my mind.

He hasn’t kissed me yet, a fact I did not notice, but am now deeply bothered by. Ignorance truly is bliss.

Declan is hot on my heels, but a loud bang followed by a crunch filters from the nutrition room.

“The interns!” I scream, running to the kitchen.

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