Page 54 of The Flirty Forward

I grin to myself; I can’t help it. “There’s just no hot sex. I gotta tell you, you just ruined a fantasy for me. I kind of thought of you as this sexy librarian who writes sexy romances with hot scenes.”The look she gives me. “How did you get into writing?” I ask, moving the conversation to safer ground.

“You really want to know?” she asks again as she stirs the sauce for the meatballs.

I frown. “Yes.”

“I loved reading as a child. Books were my constant companion. I started writing my own stories when I was eight. They were dumb and childish, but…” she shrugs. “They were my stories. Those books cultivated a love for writing. It sort of fizzled out when I went into high school and college. And then I decided to try it again during my summer break three years ago. I love history, and I love writing. So I decided to combine the two and write historical romance. It’s become a pretty popular genre over the last few years, especially regency romance.”

“And you’ve written six book since then. That’s amazing. Why didn’t you go into writing in college? Why teaching?” I ask.

“My parents would have never supported me getting something as impractical as a writing degree. Honestly, they hate the fact that I teach at a low-income school for a living; but at least teaching is more respectable than being a writer. I knew I couldn’t get a writing degree but I didn’t know what else I wanted to do. Then I met Brielle. She was my roommate my freshman year. We became fast friends. She was studying to be a teacher, and I decided to do the same.”

Her words don’t settle well with me. “So, you became a teacher because Brielle did?”

“Well, not exactly. I mean, I love history.” My phone rings again, and I silence it. “Do you need to get that?” she asks pointedly.

“It’s just my agent, calling for like the tenth time today,” I tell her.

“What’s he want?” she asks curiously.

“She.” At her confused look, I clarify. “My agent’s a woman.” She nods and looks away. “She wants me to go to the game tonight and then be at the press conference afterward.”

I’m almost done chopping the romaine for the salad, and I make myself slow down. I don’t want to finish and then not have an excuse to stand close to her. “Do you need to go?” she asks. “I can drive you, if you need me to,” she offers quietly.

I continue chopping as I think about her words. I have no desire to do a press conference tonight, and I’d rather stay here with her tonight. But I also feel the need to be there for my teammates. And if she’s willing to go with me... “You wouldn’t mind?” Do I need her to drive me?No. Do I want an excuse to spend the evening with her?Yes.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” she retorts, making me smile.

“I would appreciate it.”

She glances up at me. “Are you up to it? How’s your head?”

“David cleared me for tomorrow. He said I can’t play tonight, but I can be back on full schedule tomorrow. My head feels fine. I have a lingering headache, and I’m still tired but nothing like before.”

“That’s good.” She pours the sauce over the meatballs, and my stomach growls. “You a little hungry over there?”

I laugh. “I’m starving.”

“That’s good. You didn’t eat a lot the last two days.”

I turn towards her. “You worried about me, Doll?”

“Nope. I just don’t want to be hated for the rest of my life for letting the great Sebastian Hart die on my watch.”

“Well, nothing to worry about because I’m perfectly fine.”

“That’s debatable,” she mutters under her breath, bringing yet another smile to my face. My phone rings again, deflating my good mood. “I think she’s anxious to talk to you,” she says and walks past me.

I answer her call. “Hey, Crystal.”

“So, you’re alive,” she starts out by saying.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t answered your calls. This is the first time I’ve been completely awake in the last two days.”

Her tone softens. “Are you still in pain?”

“No. David cleared me to start back up with all my responsibilities tomorrow”

“That’s good to hear. What about the game tonight?” she asks.

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