Chapter 20 #2
I fix on the man holding my child, who has never said anything about my body. I haven’t said anything about every hench rugged inch of his studly frame either. Because that’s not… friendly.
“You have no business talkin’ ’bout my hips, Tanner Pace.”
He gives a short laugh as he snaps off a piece of banana and hands it to Nelson. I keep a pout firmly planted on my lips but inside, there are all kinds of things dancing in my stomach.
Aaron turns to the stove but I see the rise of his cheeks. I’d say he enjoys his friend being in trouble with the ladies. This lady.
“What about Nelson, Annie?” Aaron asks. “Kids love a mac ’n’ cheese.”
“You won’t carb shame him?”
“I won’t carb shame either of you,” he tells me, setting water to boil and flicking a towel across his shoulder as he turns to me. “He’s growing and you’re studying, you both need fuel for the brain.”
I cross my arms across my chest. “What else do you know about me already?”
I don’t even process his response because all I can do is watch Tanner with my gorgeous boy, in his home, taking all this in his stride, as if domestication is nothing new to him, and thinking he’s talked about me.
For the briefest moment, my mind wanders to a very dangerous and unobtainable place.
This is all too comfortable, too nice. Too easy.
But for the time it takes for us all to eat lunch I decide not to be afraid of it.
Nothing can happen between Tanner and me.
This isn’t real life. But it does feel like the respite he promised and we’ve been here for less than two hours.
I might never want to leave when Friday comes.
After prepping a dinner of white fish, veggies and brown rice to be reheated later, Aaron leaves. Tanner goes somewhere into the depths of the house to record a podcast episode. I take Nelson outside to play in the pool, hoping to give Tanner space to work in a noise-free environment.
The pool is as immaculately clean as the rest of the house.
It’s surrounded by opulent loungers and potted palm trees.
I haven’t much experience – none, in fact – of sun lounger vacations and resorts but as Nelson and I lie back on one of the beds, wrapped in a towel to dry off, shades covering my eyes, a sun hat shadowing his, I think this must be how the other half live.
Honestly, it’s too quiet and relaxing, too uncomplicated to feel true, and I’m sure I’d get bored of it if I were a WAG, right?
! For a day or so, though, leaving behind all the noise surrounding me and the fear of being photographed, the anxiety over not doing the best by Nelson, setting aside Auston and Mama and everyone I’m letting down, it’s welcome.
All thanks to one very kind man who’s taken pity on Nelson and me – he’d call it empathy for his own single mom or being a good friend to my brother.
If it were any other man, I’d be suspicious of an ulterior motive, but Tanner has made expressly, overly, relentlessly clear that even though my brain has decided to read too much into some of the looks and touches that pass between us, we are never, ever, ever getting together.
Which means I can let my mind wander when I’m under my bedsheets at night, and I can indulge in the fantasy of Tanner while I’m astride his thigh and virtually dry humping him, but I don’t need to worry about looking hot, or saying the right thing, or getting myself into something that would add more chaos to my already sufficiently complex life.
Because the bearded giant is 100 percent not interested in me.
Inside, I set Nelson in a safe space in the lounge while I scoot off quickly to change.
Tanner’s infectious, bellowing laugh sounds along the corridor upstairs.
I pass a room with the door ajar and see him sitting at a desk with screens and equipment around him.
I’ve listened to his weekly pod countless times.
It’s funny. But there’s something surreal about hearing it in real time as Tanner and his onscreen cohosts vibe off each other, joking around, bantering but also talking like experts in their field.
I press my back to the wall, holding my towel closed across my swimsuit, and listen to Tanner’s gruff voice.
Strong, confident, manly, yet I know about his bubble baths and the flickering candles he lights.
The way he sings without realizing he’s doing it and the way he handles a small child as if he’s done it every day of his life.
It really is a wonder that man is single.
That’s what I’m thinking when I notice everything has gone quiet. I push off the wall to leave, pretending I haven’t been caught daydreaming about him, when the door is fully opened and I yelp, dropping my towel and my jaw in the process.
“Annie.” Tanner looks me up and down in a way that is unmistakable. Even I – a woman who is definitely not looking for a man, especially this one – recognize that the way he rakes his gaze over me is not platonic. Which throws the protective barrier between us out the window.
It’s a good thing my swimsuit is already soaked from the pool because the way he looks at me makes me another kind of wet.
“Is everything okay?” He clears his throat. “Do you need anything?”
I shake my head so fast it makes me dizzy. “Sorry to disturb you, I’m just getting changed.”
I bend to pick up my towel but he does, too. Our heads collide and while he doesn’t budge, I’m physically and metaphorically whacked off balance, tumbling back into the wall I’d like him to ravage me up against.
“Whoa,” he says, reaching a hand to my waist, his coarse fingers finding the cutout in the back of my swimsuit, caramelizing that slither of skin.
We’re locked in an awkward hold where I’m incapable of breaking our contact. I’m genuinely considering dry humping this burning desire out of my system, if only to silence the argument between my rational and irrational mind.
Thankfully, one of us is thinking straight. Tanner hands me my towel. “I won’t be much longer.”
“Mmmhmm. Take your time. There’s nothin’ spoilin’.”
I hear him get back to his work and tell his co-hosts, “Sorry, there was someone at the door. We can edit that out.”
Yep. Let’s edit me right out. No harm, no foul.
Though I do foul in the shower. It’s quick and explosive and I hope it puts out the flames between my legs indefinitely, because I have no space for a crush in my life. Especially not a crush on a footballer.