Page 56 of Golden

Sol nods. “Yeah. And as captain it’ll be worse because I’ll have to review game tapes and help run the practices, too.”

I stare at him as I chew on another mouthful of pasta. I’m not stupid. It was clear he kissed me the other day to stop me from pressing him about his responsibilities. Taking on too much is something I understand only too well, but the idea of falling short doesn’t fill me with dread. Sure, I’d be annoyed with myself, but I’d get over it. You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking for it, but there’s a nervous energy around Sol that makes me wonder just how close to falling apart he really is.

“Do you enjoy it?” I ask, sidestepping to temptation to push him again knowing he couldn’t kiss me to shut me up in public.

Sol’s eyes widen. “Of course.”

“You played in high school?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and his shoulders relax a little. “Haven’t missed a season since I was seven.”

“Shit,” I splutter, my eyes widening. “That’s young.”

He shrugs. “My dad played all through college.”

“Franklin West?”

“Yeah.”

I nod as I tuck that nugget of information away—a possible clue to the puzzle of unpicking Sol Brooker.

“Did you not start swimming when you were young?” he asks.

“Nah.” I smile and spear another forkful of pasta. “I mean, I’ve always been good at swimming, but I didn’t join a team until sophomore year of high school.”

Sol’s eyebrows raise. “Really? What made you start then?”

“The guy I had a huge crush on was on the team.” I grin. “He was straight as they come, but you couldn’t stop me from dreaming.”

Sol laughs and a comfortable silence falls over us. It’s nice. As much as it would make things easier if he wasn’t, Sol is a nice guy. I wasn’t joking when I said he was perfect. Well, maybe almost perfect. Perfect would be him being out and happy to be mine in every way. The thought has my throat constricting around my pasta. I don’t want that. Do I?Fuck. Sol is like a computer virus, wrecking my code and throwing everything off kilter. Which is why I need to figure him out completely. So I can debug this shit and get back to normal.

“If you’ve not got a meet,” Sol says, eyeing me over the rim of his coffee cup, “what are your plans this weekend?”

My pulse kicks up. “I’m open to offers.”

The corners of Sol’s mouth curve into a slow smile. “Do you have any offers currently on the table? Just so I know what I’m up against?”

I shake my head, drinking in the sight of him. Six feet of long, toned limbs and a face that brings me to my knees. Literally.

“You can’t look at me like that in public, Wes,” Sol says, shifting in his chair. “Fuck.”

I blink. “Like what?”

“Like you’re picturing me naked,” he murmurs.

A wide grin splits my face. “But that’s exactly what I was doing.”

Sol swears under his breath and looks away.

“To be fair, I haven’t actually seen you completely naked,” I say, keeping my voice low.

Sol laughs, glancing at me. “My knees and calves are nothing to write home about, I assure you.”

Something is clearly wrong with me when it comes to this man, because now, all I want to do is bite my way up his calves and kiss the backs of his knees. I swallow a groan at the mental picture.

“Getting back on track.” Sol clears his throat. “Weekend. What are you thinking?”

I raise my eyebrows, placing the half-eaten pasta down beside my keyboard. “You really want to know what I’m thinking?”

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