Playing Mr. Perfect (The Bradens at Ridgeport #1)

Pepper

I have walked to work nearly every day for years, but walking down the brick-paved sidewalks with Clay and my colleagues feels a little like I’ve been plunked down in an alternate universe. As shocked and happy as I am that Clay is here, Charlottesville is my safe space, and Ravi, Min, and Chris are my people. We may not socialize outside work much, but we work so many hours, I probably spend more time with them than most married couples spend together. We make a good team, and I don’t want anything to upend that.

I’m anxious as we settle around the table, hoping dinner won’t be awkward, but conversation comes easily, and I’m reminded of all the reasons I’m drawn to Clay. He’s funny and interesting, and he makes everyone feel special. Those were some of the same reasons I shied away from him before Paris. Now that I know who he is, I see his efforts are genuine. I like that he’s taking the time to get to know my friends as we eat, asking about their families and the work they’re doing. But there’s no missing the handful of people who are stealing glances at him, some of them whispering. I guess that’s what happens when you’re a professional quarterback in a college town where people live and breathe football. It makes me a little uncomfortable, and I do my best to ignore it. I can’t imagine what it feels like for Clay, but to his credit, his attention never strays from our group.

Throughout dinner, his leg brushes mine, and he holds my hand under the table. I missed those simple touches, and they leave me wanting more.