Page 72 of Let You Love Me

I chuckle. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. I’ll be at Wyndham Hall at one, if you’re interested in coming to hang out while I work.”

I grin. “I think I can find the time.”

“Okay, great.” She takes a step back, eyeing me as she bites her lip. “Oh, and uh, good game on Saturday. My dad won’t shut up about it.”

His eyes brighten. “You watched?”

She nods. “Of course I watched.” Then she bites her lips as if debating on whether to say more. “I went to the game and stayed until half time, and then I took Sophie home and watched the rest on TV. You were . . .” She shakes her head.“Amazing.”

Joy spikes my bloodstream like a fucking drug. One positive affirmation from this girl and I’m on a high.

Shit, I’m screwed, but I’m finding it hard to care because Lane Turner was there, watching me play, and she wants me to know it, too.

“I know.” I wink and when she laughs, I want to do it again.

“If only everyone had your confidence.”

You will, once I’m through with you.

She flashes me one last smile, then turns and starts walking away while I unabashedly check out her ass as she goes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She whips back around and almost catches me as I jerk my gaze back to her face. “Sophie said thanks for the cake.”

The next week and half go something like this:

Training.

Classes.

Football.

Working with Lane.

More football.

And when I’m lucky enough, Lane again.

Between schoolwork and busting my ass on the field, I see Lane whenever I can, mostly in the laundry room before practice, but occasionally in the evenings, too. We’ve gone to Slice twice more with Sophie after practice—once last week, and again this week—and I’m starting to wonder if this won’t become some new tradition, one I’m quite fond of.

I wring a pair of practice pants out, then hand them to Lane, who takes a soft bristled brush to the grass stains, grinding in the oxygen booster and stain remover before they go in the wash with industrial strength detergents to get the stains out.

We’ve formed a routine in the last week and a half, working in tandem. She no longer has to direct me, and I no longer have to ask.

“I suppose you won’t be going to the game tomorrow?” I ask. It’s an away game, and I can only imagine how hard it would beto take Sophie on the road for what would be a long and boring weekend for her.

“Nope. We’ll be sitting this one out. I’ll still be watching, though. In fact, Sophie asked me if we were going to see you on TV.” She glances over at me and shakes her head, a grin spreading across her glorious lips. “Between you and my father, she’s going to be one heck of a football fan when she’s older.” She chuckles. “Though right now, she loses interest after about five minutes.”

Damn. I fight the surge of disappointment she’ll be absent from the stands.

Catching sight of her cheering us on last weekend was like a hit of valium, and two plays later, I scored a touchdown.

“A girl after my own heart. So, what are you doing tonight, then?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual, despite how much I crave spending time with her.

“Tonight, I’m meeting the contractor at my house.” She beams as she glances over at me and takes the damp jersey from my hands. “I got my first paycheck, so I finally feel comfortable putting the deposit down on the roof and getting started. He’ll come over, I’ll sign the contract, and if I’m lucky, I’ll have a new roof in a couple of weeks. Which also means I can finally start work inside now that I know it won’t get ruined by leaky ceilings.”

I frown. “How bad is the roof?”

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