Page 11 of Resisting the Running Back

“And you've got me here to help if you want to mess any of his shit up,” I say.

She rewards me with a laugh, and we head over to her place.

“Do we need anything for your place?” she asks on the way over.

“Like what?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “I don't know, like dishes or pots and pans or…” She trails off.

I shake my head. “As of yesterday, I am thirty years old, you know. I sort of know how to cook for myself and actually own a set of pots and pans. I mean, I eat off paper plates, but…”

She looks at my profile as I drive and studies me as she tries to figure out whether I'm teasing her, and when she determines that I am, she says, “Okay, fine. So we don't need dishes.”

I reach over and squeeze her forearm. “You can bring whatever will make it feel like home to you because it’ll be your home, too.”

She pats my hand on her arm. “I'll just take what I need and take stock of what you got when we get there.”

“Anywhere else you want to go before we head out of town?”

She scrunches up her nose in this cute way she has, and I already know what’s coming.

“I should probably stop by the school to grab my things and my parents’ house to let them know what’s going on,” she says.

“Are you going to tell them about your books?”

Her brows furrow tightly together as they create a shadow over her lids, and her lips turn down. “That’s a solid hell to the no, Banks.”

I have no idea what, exactly, she plans to tell them, but something tells me it’ll be good.

Once we get to her place, or herformerplace, she heads to the bedroom and grabs the suitcase, which she starts to fill with the clothes stored in the dresser. She directs me to the closet to grab her clothes on hangers, and I fill the backseat of her car pretty quickly. The trunk holds her suitcase and a couple of boxes,mostly filled with perfume and makeup, along with a few blankets and stuffed animals that span all the way back to the time before I even met her.

I pick up her unicorn. “You still have Mr. Wiggles?”

She takes it from my hands. “I can't believe you remember her name.”

“Who could forget a unicorn named Mr. Wiggles that's female?”

She giggles. “Good point. I used to make up the craziest adventures for Mr. Wiggles and me.”

“Tell me about them,” I say.

“Oh, we’d go find rainbows and ride them all the way to the end. We’d land in the pot of gold, but it was such a big pot that the whole entire city fit inside, and it was all made of gold. We’d go into the local pubs with the local unicorns and their owners, and we would eat glitter and drink clouds and go on magical adventures.” She has a dreamy look in her eyes.

“So you're telling me you had a vivid imagination even as a child,” I say.

“Absolutely,” she says, setting Mr. Wiggles into a box and picking up a penguin, her favorite animal, who I believe is named Penelope. “I've been making up stories my whole life. They just happen to be a little sexier now.”

“A little?” I ask, and she ducks her head a little as her cheeks turn pink. I walk over and give her a quick hug even though I want to hold her in my arms. “Don't you dare be embarrassed about that. Your words are powerful and wonderful and sexy as fuck.”

Her brown eyes are so sweet and innocent as they meet my blue ones.

They look a little misty as she lets out a soft sigh. “Thank you,” she says. “I've gotten the email here and there from readers telling me how much my words mean to them, butnobody in my life has ever made me feel like what I do is important until you did just now.”

“Well, get used to it,” I say, repeating the words I said earlier when I paid the bill at the restaurant.

She deserves the world, and I want to be the one to give it to her.

CHAPTER 6: Miller Banks

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