Page 63 of Get Me to the Starting Line

Seriously. After my near-death experience last year, my sister wanted to gift me a cemetery plot. Luckily Adam talked her out of it. I love it, though, waiting to see what hilarious thing she’ll come up with next. She doesn’t even do it on purpose.

Ian seemed to think he was gift enough. He did give me Levi, but I don’t think that counts since my son was technically an accident. The best kind of accident.

But this? I’ve never had this kind of gift before. One that’s so thoughtful it damn near brings me to tears because the gift isn’t just for me. It’s for Levi—for us together. Is this Julien’s way of telling me he wants me?

I don’t see any other way I could take this. It gives me boldness I’m not used to when it comes to men. All the shit I used to give Paige about her dating life came from a place of pure hypocrisy, not that I’d ever tell her that.

I slowly lower the jersey and take a step towards Julien.

“Why?” I say again, hoping he’s feeling what I am.

I watch as Julien’s broad chest rises and falls on a big inhale and exhale.

“If you come to a game again, wear it,” he says gruffly.

“You like seeing me in your jersey?” I revel in the way he watches me, his dark eyes turning molten.

“Yes. I won’t be distracted if you’re wearing it,” he says tightly.

I freeze in place. Wait, what?

My stomach sinks. Maybe I was wrong, but what else am I supposed to think when he brings me one of his jerseys and one for Levi too? Serves me right for jumping to conclusions.

“You were distracted when I wasn’t wearing a jersey?” I say. Even I can tell my voice is guarded.

“I don’t want to lose again.”

Ice water plunges through my veins, chasing away the heat of passion that had built. Instead, the icy rage burns.

What. The. Fuck.

“Excuse me? I don’t think I quite heard you right. Are you saying you lost because I was there without a jersey on?”

“Yes.”

I let that word settle in my bones. I tried, I seriously tried this time to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“So instead of acknowledging you had a shitty game, you’re going to blame me for coming to your game without a jersey?”

“Withoutmyjersey.”

The nerve of this man. “And how the fuck was I supposed to get my hands on one of your jerseys? Or even know you wanted me to wear it? Did I somehow miss that lengthy conversation? Or am I just expected to read your mind? You know what, Julien, thanks, but no—”

I tug the jersey off over my head and start to pack them back up, as much as my heart aches that I won’t see Levi in it, knowing he likes Julien.

A large, warm hand engulfs my forearm, halting me. How did I miss this giant of a man moving towards me? I glare at him, his hand burning my skin with heat. I feel the flush spread right from my neck to my face, liquid heat pooling in my stomach. Lower. I’m throbbing—anger and desire mix in my blood.

I see the same emotions reflected in his eyes and then he’s moving, pulling me into him by the arm he’s holding like a vise. He’s a magnet, and I’m powerless against his pull as I crash into his chest, bracing myself on the wall of muscle with my palms. He’s over a head taller than me and I feel tiny as his hands move up my arms, holding me against him.

“Don’t,” he finally says.

“Don’t what?” I meant to pack more bite into the words, but I can barely think what with him pressed against me, unleashing a flood of sensations. I can feelallof him.

“Don’t give it back. It’s yours.”

I use up my last shred of common sense and shove away from him. There’s no way in the entire universe I’d be strong enough to push him if he didn’t let me. He releases my arms and takes a step back, face hardening.

My breathing is heavy as I fight the urge to close the distance between us again, the loss of his heat more unpleasant than I would’ve thought.

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