Page 19 of My Secret Bandit

“You didn’t need a haircut to look good for me, but I do like it.” I let my hand glide across the newly faded bottom half of his head, not wanting to disturb the shortened ringlet curls on top.

His slight shudder passed through my fingertips and traveled my body until it clenched deep in my belly.

Once we drove through the neighborhood, my hand refused to leave his skin. And when it finally did, he looked over to me before nudging his head, beckoning my hand back to the place it just left. I continued to rub his head and neck, smoothing out any tension areas I felt. He let out small, delectable moans as my fingers found hidden tender spots.

The fear that my body falling on his really did injure him somehow was undeniable. “I thought you said you were okay.”

The look he cast toward me calmed my worries. “I am. I was perfect with you. Woodpecker is a completely different story. Running into him is like running into a concrete wall immediately followed by a thicker steel one. Not nearly as fun or as satisfying.”

“I gotta know. What’d he do to get that nickname?” I asked. Because as much as I like to pretend I’m not, being nosy made me good at my job.

“It’s stupid.”

“Lots of nicknames are.”

He chuckled softly. “Fair. Okay, every rookie goes through a sort of… initiation. You get two options. Option one is trying to out drink the entire O-line, and option two is footing the lap dance bill for everyone in your squad. Peck got cocky; thought he could take on the O-line. Ended up blasted, streaking the neighborhood with a... you know.”

I nodded my understanding.

Because with a name like Woodpecker, why wouldn’t this story end with his boner?

“Which did you pick?”

“I’ll happily spend a couple grand before I ever subject myself to the kind of hangover Woodpecker suffered through.” He laughed.

In the restaurant’s parking lot, Mateo turned to me. He took my hands in his, his expression serious.

“Before we go in, I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Sometimes people ask for autographs or pictures. They may even take pictures without asking, or they want to sit and talk football for hours. Sometimes they can’t help but stare. It can be overwhelming, and I get that you’re worried about everything from the last few weeks, but I can handle it if it starts up again. But if you’re not ready, just say the word.”

I wasn’t ready for the media storm that might find us come morning, but right then my fears didn’t matter. With his heavy hands wrapped around mine, a sense of safety warmed me.

Without words, I unbuckled my seatbelt, letting him know I wanted this just as much, maybe even more than he did.

He ushered me into the restaurant, his hand low on my hip to guide me in.

The hostess led us to a table tucked in the back as requested by Mateo. Her eyes raked over him from the time we walked in until we reached our seats.

With the manners he mentioned via text, he pulled out my chair before pushing it back in as I sat.

For the sake of being petty and motivated to mark my territory, I let my hand graze over Mateo’s bicep, adding a low, seductive “thank you, baby” before returning to her with a saccharine smile.

The muscles pulling at her lips strained to return the gesture as she handed me a menu and turned on her heels to leave.

Mateo’s fascinated gaze never left my face, and once the girl was no longer in earshot, his laugh escaped.

“I didn’t peg you as the jealous type.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I threw the menu up to cover the smile curving my lips, only making him laugh more.

“Oh, Jameson.” He sighed. “What am I gonna do with you?”

With my mind going crazy with all the possibilities, I kept the barrier the menu provided to hide my flushed cheeks.

As the night progressed, Mateo’s presence in the restaurant continued to draw attention. At first, there were lingering stares. They watched as we ate and talked. They’d lean over to the person next to them as if to ask for confirmation of who they were seeing.

Food forgotten, I followed their gazes, landing back on the superstar in front of me. He was beautiful and talented, but he was also so much more than his looks or his stat sheet. There was something about him that permeated the space around him. Something that soothed every worry and freed any baggage. He made being in this restaurant easy, even with the constant barrage of eyes on us. He made feeling good, feel right. Noticing my focus pinned solely on him, a smirk lifted his lips and he winked.

“How do you handle it?” I laid my crossed arms on the table and leaned in. He copied me, closing off the space between us even more.

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