Page 93 of The Fantasy League
When I walkedthrough the front door later that afternoon, the corner of my mouth lifted at the sight of Scarlett as she lay on my couch, cuddled against a throw pillow with a mound of blankets piled on top of her. She slept calmly, despite the television blaring twenty feet in front of her.
I grabbed the remote off of the coffee table to shut off the noise and admired her for a few minutes, admittedly holding back a tear while I took in her barefaced skin and those impossibly long eyelashes.
Fuck, I was a lucky man.
Crouching down, I peppered kisses along her cheeks, too impatient to wait for her to wake up on her own. “Red, wake up.”
She peeled open one eyelid and yawned. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t even tired,” she said with sleepy eyes that fought to stay open.
Fuck, I wanted to watch her wake up every day. Morning, noon, night. Didn’t fucking matter.
My heart fucking soared at the thought of her moving in with me. I kissed her hard. I’d give it a week before I asked so I didn’t scare her off.
She pulled back. “Want me to make dinner? I’m starving.”
“I picked up some groceries on my way home. Can you make that chicken pad thai recipe for me?”
“How do you know about that…” She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. “Have I made that for you before?”
Caught her right where I wanted her.
“No, you haven’t.” A smug smile played at my lips. “I’ve been reading your blog for months, hoping and fucking praying for months that you’d make it for me, but you haven’t yet.”
“You… what?” Her eyes grew wide.
“I read your blog,” I admitted. It was never a fucking secret, but I liked poking fun at her by telling her all the things she had no idea I paid attention to. “You’ve been holding out on me with all the good recipes, Red. I’m a little pissed about it, not going to lie.”
“You’re joking.”
“Oh really? ’Cause I commented on every post.” I shot her a look of defiance and her mouth dropped open.
“You didn’t.” She sucked in a breath. Damn, I wished I had security cameras in the house too, so I could’ve caught the wave of astonishment that flooded her face on tape.
“Every. Single. One.”
“Prove it.” She sat up straight. “Prove it right now.”
I pulled my phone from my back pocket and thumbed my way to her blog. “Look, footballguy88, that’s my username.” Yeah, it was a stupid ass fucking username and most of my comments were bullshit, but I didn’t care. “Go on and try to find a post I haven’t commented on,” I challenged.
Scarlett scrolled through her posts and looked at all of the comments that I’d left the past few months. Some of them she laughed at, like the one where I told her she should make that for her coworkers—knowing that I was her only coworker. And others where I made heartfelt comments on the posts that she talked about her mom, she’d look up at me with a pouty lower lip.
“That is a horrible username.” Her chin wobbled and tears welled in her eyes, daring to break at any moment. “I had no idea that was you.”
“Even when you didn’t know it, I was your biggest fucking fan, Red.” She hurled herself into my arms. “Always will be.”
I tugged her tighter against my chest and pulled her head back so I could claim her with my lips.
“Up,” she ordered, wrapping her hand around my wrist and leading me toward the staircase.
“Where are we going?”
“Bedroom. Stop talking,” she demanded.
Red taking the reins?Fuck. Me.
She dragged me by the wrist the entire way to the bedroom, but I didn’t fucking mind when it meant that I got to watch that sweet little ass poking out from underneath my T-shirt while she bounced up the stairs.
“Clothes off, then bed,” she said firmly, peeling off her T-shirt to reveal her underwear.
