Page 19 of Resisting the Running Back

He pulls the phone away from his ear a little as if she’s yelling or something, and then he says, “I’m actually out to dinner with her right now, so can I call you back?”

He mumbles a little more, and then he hangs up. “Well, it’s out there.Page Sixofficial or whatever.”

I gasp. “But how?”

He raises a brow and presses his lips together. “Your mother.”

“My mother?”

He nods slowly. “Apparently she contacted the paper in Phoenix to have our engagement printed this weekend, to which they informed her that couples mainly do that via social media this century. She mentioned our names, and whoever she spoke with sold the story.”

“I’m gonna kill her,” I mutter under my breath.

Except…truth be told, I didn’t hate the attention he gave me when those ladies asked if we were engaged. I didn’t hate that his eyes moved off them and over to me.

And I certainly didn’t hate that kiss. That’s for damn sure.

She’s just being my mom. It’s what she does. She did the same thing when my older brother got engaged. She doesn’t think about how she’s announcing it to the world before we ever got the chance, but it was different with Chris and Marie. Chris isn’t a football player. She asked them first before the notice ran, and I’m sure she would’ve asked me first as well, but she didn’t stop to think that Miller’s status as a celebrity might mean this situation is a little different.

She means well, and she’s my mom. I love her no matter what—even if sometimes I want to metaphorically strangle her.

“What did your mom say?” I ask.

He smirks a little. “She wanted to know why she found out about our engagement from a headline on the internet and not from me.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. We’ll roll with it as it comes, right?”

Our shrimp tacos arrive, and we order another round of margaritas with them. I’m not used to drinking three margaritas in one night, and even with the food heavy in my stomach, I’m definitely tipsy by the time the meal is over.

And apparently, so is my fiancé. He calls an Uber so we don’t have to worry about driving home, and he puts on a bit of a show while we wait for our ride out front, tossing his arm around me. I lean my head on his shoulder and reach up to link my fingers through his, giving into the show with him.

The weird thing about it is how natural it feels. I guess that’s what happens when you’re with someone you’ve been friends with for half your life. It’s easy and comfortable, and we just fit together.

Which is why these weird new thoughts I’m having about him have to be kept at bay. I’ve never had a friend like him. Who else in the entire universe would leave their thirtieth birthday party in Las Vegas to be with an old friend? Nobody. The answer is nobody. Nobody has ever been so thoughtful and kind the way he simply always has been. He doesn’t forget birthdays, or favorite songs, or the little things, and it’s one of the many things I treasure about him.

So why suddenly am I breathing in his cologne? Why suddenly am I looking at him a little differently?

Because he’s serving up my dreams on a silver platter, that’s why. I’m misplacing my feelings of appreciation and gratitude as something more. He’s comfort in the storm where I find myself,that’s all. He’s calming and reliable when my life has been thrown into utter chaos, and he believes in me in a way nobody else ever has.

I straighten and push off his shoulder so I’m not leaning into him so much. It feels a little dangerous as I start to lose myself there, and I’m trying not to let the romance author side of my personality interfere with my actual personal life.

Although…

If it’s a book boyfriend I’m looking for, Miller Banks is a solid choice.

He’s a pro football player.

He’s strong and protective.

He’s dependable and reliable.

He’s kind and smart.

He’s charismatic and funny.

He’s hot as hell. Likehothot. Hot.

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