Tumbling Into You – By Gwen Galloway #3
“I was thinking that we should get?—”
“No, it's not possible.” I interrupted, my jaw clenching with a pinch of guilt.
“Daddy, please let me finish. You always say my words matter, and I shouldn't let boys interrupt me,” she pleaded.
Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly—once again being schooled by my seven-year-old.
“You're absolutely right, baby girl. I apologize. Please continue.”
With a cute eye roll, she said, “I think we should get a dog. Now that I'm seven, I can take care of him.”
“Without a doubt, you'd be the best puppy parent,” I said, praising her, hoping to lessen her inevitable disappointment. “But—” I started, glancing in the rearview mirror as her smile faded.
“Please don't say no again.” She crossed her arms dramatically.
“Sweetie,” I said, reaching back to rub her knee.
“You know I play soccer from February to October—sometimes longer if we make the playoffs.” I winked, tickling her kneecap.
“And all the traveling for away games—you know, when you get to stay with Auntie Charley.” My younger sister Charlotte—or Charley—lived next door, generously watching Maggie after school and when I traveled.
At twenty-eight, Charley was already a best-selling romance author, giving her the flexibility to help with Maggie.
“It wouldn't be fair to a dog, always being busy or away.”
“Okay,” Maggie muttered, her shoulders drooping as she exhaled deeply. The steady noise of her sneakers rubbing against the leather seat in front of her echoed her sense of disappointment.
We cruised down Sunset Boulevard, our timing impeccable, making every green light. Thank you, LA traffic gods. We arrived at Maggie's school faster than I thought possible. My dashboard clock read 8:56 a.m. as I maneuvered the car into the drop-off line, feeling a wave of relief.
“Maggie,” I said, turning to give her a smile, “I'll scoop you up after school, but remember you're with Charley tonight as I'm going out with Declan, my college friend who's in town this weekend.”
Maggie nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. She blew me a kiss before swinging her backpack over one shoulder and hopping out of the car with a determined leap. Ms. Spencer, this week's parent volunteer, took Maggie's hand gently, flashed me a thumbs-up, and closed the door.
“Bye! Love you!” Maggie called back, waving enthusiastically as she joined the bustling sea of students.
I was excited to see Declan tonight. We'd played soccer together for four years at Stanford, but then he'd been recruited by Liverpool F.C. in the UK, while I had signed with LA. Despite playing in different countries and competing in separate leagues, we'd stayed close over the last decade.
Turning right onto Vine Street, I drove a few blocks before pulling into my favorite car wash.
Thankfully, I'd banked enough time for a quick stop before heading to the stadium. It was the type of car wash where you remained inside your vehicle—there’s something calming and hypnotic about how the rubber rollers and water jets blast away the dirt.
Stopping at the automated machine, I swiped my phone across the payment scanner.
When the entry light turned green, I eased my car into the designated spot and shifted into park.
As the jets sprayed soapy water across my windshield, I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes.
The measured cadence of water hitting the windshield relaxed me, transporting me to another place entirely.
Suddenly, I was no longer in my car but in my bright en-suite bathroom, where Winnie's curvy silhouette was visible through the glass shower door.
I imagined stepping into the shower behind her, water cascading over our heated bodies.
Squeezing a dollop of ocean-breeze-scented body wash into my hand, I rubbed my palms together vigorously before gliding the fragrant suds over her skin, tracing the contours of her hips, her waist, and her breasts.
Leaning eagerly into my sensual touch, she turned slowly in my arms until her face was mere inches from mine.
Threading her delicate fingers through my wet hair, she tugged me forward until her lips captured mine in a passionate kiss.
I could almost taste her and feel the softness of her skin under my palms as they roamed every inch of her body.
The fantasy was so vivid that I felt a pang of loss when the car wash's final rinse cycle jolted me back to reality.
Shaking my head, I tried to clear the sultry images from my mind as the car wash turned off.
Putting the car in drive, I hastily adjusted my untimely erection before turning again onto Vine Street.
After cruising through several green lights, I stopped at a red light between Santa Monica Boulevard and Melrose Avenue.
While waiting for the light to change, I absently looked around at the shops and cafes along Vine.
Suddenly, my eyes locked on a blue merle Australian Shepherd sleeping peacefully at the feet of two women engrossed in conversation at a small table outside a coffeehouse.
As my gaze wandered up, I gasped, captivated by Winnie's stunning face.
“Wait. What the hell is she holding?” Squinting, I recognized the professional hockey jersey Winnie was clutching in her hands.
A giddy smile erupted on her face as she traced her finger reverently over the signatures scrawled across the fabric.
From the look of it, the entire Washington Revolution team had signed the back.
The sudden blare of a horn jolted me back to reality, jerking my attention to the traffic light, which was now green.
“Alright, alright,” I grumbled, raising my hand in a half-hearted wave to appease the impatient driver behind me.
“Damn it!” I stole another glance at Winnie as I eased through the intersection, shaking my head in disbelief. I blew out a frustrated breath. “Another damn woman obsessed with pro athletes.”
WINNIE
Spotting Darcy on the outdoor patio on Vine Street, Hamish snapped the leash forward, dragging me across Perkolate Coffee's parking lot. Rousing Hamish from his post-hike slumber—sprawled across the back seat of my Subaru—had required some coaxing. However, the moment Hamish saw Darcy, he’d instantly perked up, as if she’d given him a shot of espresso.
Darcy and I had met as freshmen at Penn, where we'd bonded immediately over similar childhood experiences with famous fathers. Darcy's dad was an A-list actor, and now a highly sought-after producer and director. At college, we’d been inseparable, and even after graduation, we’d stayed extremely close, despite living on opposite coasts.
And now, I was living in Darcy's guest house in West Adams, a historic neighborhood in LA, notable for its gorgeous early-20th-century Craftsman houses.
“Hey, Darcy!” I wrapped my arms around her tightly when she stood up to greet us. Hamish, always impatient to say hello, wiggled his body between us, forcing me to take a step back. “Hamish, don't be so pushy.”
“Don't be mean to my best boyfriend,” Darcy pretended to scold me. Crouching down, Darcy cupped her hands around his face, kissing him affectionately on his head, floppy ears, and muzzle.
“Hate to interrupt your love fest . . .” I patted Darcy gently on her head until she glanced to the side, grabbing Hamish's leash from my outstretched hand.
“I just need to grab a coffee. Then, I'll be back with all the tea .” My lame attempt at a witty pun earned me an exaggerated eye roll from Darcy.
“You're such a dork. Be quick—I want all the dirty deets.” She slid back into her chair, taking a sip of her espresso before placing it next to the plate with her chocolate croissant. Shooing me away with a flick of her hand, I turned to head inside.
Pushing through the door, I took in the eclectic array of colorful tufted chairs and couches arranged around small tables, inviting intimate conversation.
With no one in line, I walked straight up to the counter to order.
Young baristas bustled back and forth, making artful coffee creations for grateful customers.
Lured by the fancy tea concoctions highlighted on the menu board, I ordered a delightfully-named Hollywood Haze —LA's take on a London Fog: Earl Grey tea with steamed milk, flavored with vanilla and lavender syrup.
After tapping my phone on the card reader, I strolled down to the busy pick-up area.
A sudden vibration in my hand startled me, alerting me to an incoming text. Swiping up with FaceID, I grinned when I saw a text from my dad.
Dad: Miss you, baby girl! Ready to come back yet? winky emoji
Me: Miss u 2, pops! LA's amazing. At coffee w/Darcy
Dad: Caffeine's still your lifeline. LOL. Did you give her the present for her dad?
Me: About to. He'll love it! Call later xo
Dad: Love you always and forever!
I’d always been close with my dad, but relocating to LA—leaving both him and my job at the Revolution—could have dramatically altered our strong bond. Fortunately, he's always been my biggest fan, and he'd eventually accepted my choice to chase my dreams outside the world of hockey.
As soon as the barista called my name, I wrapped my fingers around the diner-style mug and hustled back to Darcy.
“Whatcha get?” Darcy asked, halting her TikTok scrolling and flipping her phone face down on the table.
“Hollywood Haze. Couldn't resist the alluring name.”
“Excellent choice.”
“Haven't tried it yet, but it smells delicious.” Carefully lifting the mug to my lips, I tilted it slowly until the hot, creamy drink flowed across my tongue. My eyes fluttered shut, savoring the sweetness that danced across my taste buds. “Mmm. Heavenly.”