Page 24 of Fashionista's Playbook

Dressed in a pair of gray yoga pants and a pale pink tank that hung over my hips, I jogged downstairs and into the large kitchen. I’d left soup in a slow cooker, which filled that side of the house with a warm, savory aroma. Most of the time, Travis’ meals were prepped and planned by the team’s training staff.

But I’d found that if I cooked, he’d eat. It wasn’t part of my job, but it made me happy to feed the people in my life. I’d take a bowl home for Rumer and me too.

My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled.

I ladled soup out into a large, ceramic bowl, grabbed a can of diet soda, and took a seat in front of the iPad he kept on the kitchen island. A few clicks later and my favorite television show was streaming.

The first bite was soothing right down to that sad, lonely place in my soul.This is why you’re fat, Moriah.

I ignored that ugly little voice in my head and lost myself in the show. Lost in the shenanigans of imaginary high schoolers and lulled into a safe, warm feeling, I didn’t notice Travis had entered the room until he dropped his designer backpack on the countertop beside me.

I all but jumped right out of my skin. The spoon went flying, soup sloshed all over the counter, and I squealed.

“Wow.” Was all Travis said.

I was too busy backing up and claimed by mortification to respond.

It took so long to recover myself that Travis lounged on one of the high-backed stools and chuckled. “I’ve had women scream when they see me—but never like that.”

“I’m sorry!” I gasped, sucking in a trembling breath. “I wasn’t expecting you back yet.” I grabbed the spoon from the floor and deposited it in the sink where it rattled around like my still racing heart.

Travis stood at the stove, lid in one hand and ladle in the other. “I was beginning to wonder if you ever ate.”

I shrugged and ripped off a few sheets of paper towel. “I’m usually working when I’m here.” Skirting around him, I retrieved another spoon from the drawer. “Just feels weird, since it’s your house.”

He stirred the soup and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you’re eating crackers in my bed.”

When he said it like that, my entire body grew hot. Of all the things I wanted to do in his bed, snacking was at the bottom of the list.

Finished cleaning the mess from the floor, I turned to see him watching me with a bowl in his hand, spoon halfway to his lips.

“You make this?”

“Yeah, I went shopping and put together some breakfast yogurt bowls for you. Fruit, nuts, and stuff like that. I’ve got the dietary list from the training staff. I figured if you liked the breakfast stuff, I could do some meal planning for lunch and stuff too.”

Travis took a heaping bite of soup and moaned, so low and sensual I had to look away. “Dear God, I’m keeping you.”

“Aren’t you decisive.”

“Have you tasted this?” His face twisted incredulously.

“Yes,” I laughed. He was right, of course, I didn’t get the extra padding by cooking crappy food. “How was practice?”

I knew, of course, that he’d been killing it all season. Jersey Chasers wasn’t the only podcast about the team I’d been listening to. It was for research, of course, studying up on the Outlaws to make myself better at my job.

But watching Travis’ press conferences after games and practices had nothing to do with that—I liked seeing him, hearing him talk about the sport he loved.

“Went well. Not that I expected any different. Got a few little tweaks to make before this weekend, but we’ll get there.” He nodded at the tablet. “What are we watching?”

Embarrassment tingled up my cheeks. “Just a show, we can change it.”

“Nah, what’s it about?”

Not something an all-American, all-star professional tight-end would want to watch. “A teen drama, a dark version of an old comic book. Spooky and cheesy, but it’s like watching a train wreck and I can’t look away.”

Two hours later we were curled on opposite ends of the overstuffed couch in the den, binge-watching from the very first season.

“This show is like crack,” Travis mused much to my amusement. “If Ella Ray doesn’t either pay the kidnapper or do a strip tease for him, then her mom is going to be forced to be some biker guy’s side chick for the rest of her life?”

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