Page 31 of The Overtime Kiss

“Hey,” Corbin protests as he grabs a towel. “I’m not afraid to admit I have a healthy relationship with my hand. Maybe you should consider the same.”

“I came here to work out,” I growl. “Instead, you worked out my patience.”

“You’re welcome,” Rowan says. “Also, good fucking luck living with temptation.”

“One week,” Corbin predicts as he lies down on the bench and positions himself under the bar.

Rowan shakes his head. “Two days. No way he lasts longer.”

I roll my eyes. “How would you even prove such a thing?”

Corbin’s smirk sharpens as he curls his palms around the weight. “Don’t need proof. You’d consider it rude to lie to us. You’re too competitive.”

He asks Rowan to spot him. I curse under my breath, dropping to the mat for crunches. Tension ripples through my abs as I work them, trying to shake off the taunts. The crunches aren’t helping. They just give me more time to think. About Parker and his new worries. About Luna and the way she loves to skate. About Sabrina, and how upbeat and fun and gorgeous she is.

Will I really be fine? Living under the same roof as Sabrina? It’s not just temptation—it’s her smile, her bright attitude, her everything. That’s the real challenge.

I’ll have to face it soon. After this workout, she’ll be at my house, moving into my garden apartment.

Send help, I want to say. But never out loud, of course.

Later, we’re leaving the gym and Ford strides in, floppy hair in his eyes, focus on his face before he pops out his earbuds. “Did I miss anything good?” the forward asks.

“We’re betting on how long this guy lasts,” Corbin says, clapping my shoulder.

“Dude. Seriously. Shut it,” I say.

“Oops. Guess he doesn’t want the whole team to know he has a thing for the nanny.”

Ford grins. “Too late for that. It was one hundred percent apparent the first night he met her.”

I am so fucked.

10

MY LIFE AS A LANDLORD

Tyler

Just to prove the guys wrong, I call Sabrina the second I leave the gym. She answers right away in a breathless voice that scrambles my brain. “Hi, Tyler.” She sounds upbeat but slightly distracted. “Nope, that one. In the milk crate,” she says, not to me.

Jealousy flares. Is a guy helping her move? Is she seeing someone new? And if so, why the hell did I agree to this arrangement? If she’s dating another guy while living under my roof, I’ll personally smack myself with a wet, smelly sock.

“Just calling to see if you need any help,” I say, sliding into my car and turning it on.

She laughs lightly. “I’m all good. I hardly have anything,” she says, still sounding like she’s half-focused on someone else.

“You sure?”

“Positive. Trevyn is helping me.”

I hate Trevyn on principle. “Who’s that?” I ask, or maybe I bark it.

“A friend,” she says, laughing.

Hmm. What’s so funny about friendship? If he is just a friend. And why didn’t I offer to help sooner? Oh, right—because I was still reeling from being blindsided by my mom. “I’m nearby if you need help lifting things.” I realize I have no clue where she lives. But I can be nearby if she needs someone who can carry heavy things. Heavier things than Trevyn can.

“I think we’re good,” Sabrina says.

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