Chapter 6
Chapter Six
L andon
I love the banter, but more than that, I love that I’m just Landon when I’m with her.
She doesn’t seem to care about my career or my bank account.
Is she just putting on a show? I really don’t think that she is, but I don’t really know her well enough to form that kind of opinion.
That’s why I want to get to know her. Yes, I want her to agree to go out with me, one date, but at the same time, is she really who she presents herself to be?
This beautiful woman who is unapologetically who she is?
A woman who loves animals and isn’t afraid to eat a juicy burger no matter who’s watching?
I want her to be real.
I want her to be that person.
My gut tells me she is. I’m usually not wrong on these things, but there’s a first time for everything. If this isn’t the real Tessa, she’s one hell of an actress. From what I know about her so far, she’s legit.
Climbing out of bed, I strip out of my boxer briefs and head to the shower.
Normally, I would go for a run, but my ass is dragging from lack of sleep, and with a long practice ahead of me in the hot Californian sun, I know better than to push it.
Maybe I’ll grab a nap when I get home, then go for a run this evening after the sun goes down.
I could also hop on the treadmill, but I prefer being outside. Running on the beach is my favorite.
After my shower, I catch up on a few emails and watch ESPN until it’s time to leave.
I hit the local bagel shop and grab us a couple of bagels with cream cheese and two large coffees.
I don’t know how she takes hers, and for some unexplained reason, that irks me.
So, I have them add cream and sugar to the bag just in case.
I pull up to her house ten minutes before eight.
I see the curtain move, and that small gesture inflates my chest. She’s watching…
waiting for me. I don’t try to contain my smile as I grab the bag of bagels and the carrier that holds our two cups of coffee.
Miss Tessa is about to share her second meal with me.
Juggling it all in one hand, I knock on the door.
I know she’s close because she was just at the window, but it takes a long damn time to open.
The breath leaves my lungs as soon as the door opens.
Tessa stands before me in a polo shirt that fits her nicely, showing off her slender frame and those incredible breasts, with the shelter’s logo on the chest. She’s in a pair of khaki shorts that are in no way sexy, but on her, they are.
I can imagine those toned, tan legs of hers wrapped around me.
Her hair is bunched up on top of her head, her curls wild, yet on her, they’re perfect.
Her face is void of any makeup, and just like last night, the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks is on display.
It was a war I waged with myself to not pull her into my arms last night and trace them with my tongue.
That urge is still there today, stronger than ever.
“Landon?” she prompts, and I shake myself out of my mental fog.
“Morning, Freckles,” I say, the nickname slipping past my lips before I can stop it. A frown appears as her forehead scrunches up. I fight the urge to reach out and smooth the lines with my thumb. “I brought breakfast,” I say instead.
“Come on in.” She steps back.
“How’s the ankle?”
“Sore, but I can put weight on it today.”
“Can you keep it propped up at your desk today?”
“For the most part. After cleaning cages, feedings, baths, things like that.”
“How about I come by after practice and help with those things?”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine. I can’t baby it.”
“You need to rest it. Give it time to heal.”
“Oh, really. Tell me, Mr. QB, how many times have you played injured? How many times have you been out on that field when you wanted to be at home, propped up in bed? Or on the couch with a cold beer, nursing your wounds?”
“That’s different. That’s my job. I get paid a lot of money to be on that field.”
“This is my job, Landon. I might not make millions, but it’s my job. I love what I do, and I love those animals who depend on me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, hearing the hurt in her voice. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” She turns to walk away. “Tess.” I reach out and gently grip her elbow. She stops and turns to look at me. “I’m sorry.”
She nods. “I need to finish getting ready.” She pulls away, and I let her.
“Can you eat first?” She stops but doesn’t turn around. “Please?” Her shoulders deflate, and I know that I have her. Who knew one simple word could have her agreeing so easily?
“Nothing fancy,” I say, following her into the kitchen. “Just bagels and coffee. I didn’t know how you took yours, so I had them add cream and sugar to the bag.”
“Thank you.” Her reply is polite and formal. I want the teasing Tessa back.
“So, how do you take it?” I ask when she doesn’t volunteer the information.
“Black, two sugars.”
I nod. “Good to know.” I hand her a bagel and unwrap my own. We eat in silence, and it’s not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. I find that I just like being near her. Crumbling my wrapper and tossing it in the bag, I finish off my coffee.
“There’s more in the pot if you need it,” she says before taking another bite of her bagel. She wraps up the remaining half and stands.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to make you late for practice. Besides, I ate a piece of toast when I took Advil this morning.”
“Well, take it with you. You can eat it later.”
“Okay.”
Just like that, she stands and hobbles down the hall to finish getting ready. I fight the urge to follow her. Instead, I call out to her. “Hey, Tessa.”
“Yeah?”
“You need help?”
“I’m good.”
Damn, is that disappointment that she doesn’t need my help? I take care of my trash, and although another cup would be nice to make up for my lack of sleep, I forgo another and instead grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“Ready,” she says.
She’s got makeup on now, covering her freckles, and I hate that she’s covering them up. “Why’d you cover them?” I ask, pointing to her face.
“What are you talking about?” She pretends like she doesn’t understand the question, but by the set of her shoulders, I know she does.
My feet carry me to stand in front of her. My hand rises as if it has a mind of its own, and my thumb lightly skims across her cheek. “Your freckles, why did you cover them?”
“I’d prefer not to look like sixteen-year-old me.” Her green eyes stare up at me.
“Sixteen-year-old you must have been gorgeous because, you now… with freckles exposed… you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” I didn’t mean to lay that out there, but I’ll be damned if she thinks of herself as anything but a knockout.
A blush coats her cheeks. Even under the makeup, I can see it. “We should go.” She steps back, and the connection, the moment, is lost.
“Right. Where are your bags? I’ll carry them out to the car.”
“I can get it.”
“I’m sure you can, but I’m doing it anyway.”
She sighs. “On the couch.”
I hold my elbow out for her, and after a few seconds of hesitation, she links arms with me. We stop by the couch, and I grab her bags, then guide her outside. I wait while she locks up and then help her to the passenger side of my SUV.
Once we’re on the road, the quiet starts to get to me. Time to break the ice. “So, did you think of me last night?” I glance over to catch her rolling her eyes. Perfect. I want a reaction out of her.
“How did you know? Did you hear me call out your name?” She gasps and places her hand to her chest as if she’s offended or embarrassed.
The problem with that is, she may be teasing me, but the thought of her touching herself while thinking about me is making things very tight down below. My cock twitches, and I have to shift in my seat. That makes her giggle.
“You okay, Number Eighteen?”
“Minx.” Her laughter fills the car, and I don’t hate it.
“How long is practice today?” she asks.
“Five hours. Three on the field and two watching tapes, going over plays, special teams, that kind of thing.”
“Have you always loved football?”
“Yeah. I guess from the time I was little, I would sit on my dad’s lap and we’d watch it for hours.
The only time I ever sat still, to hear my parents tell it.
” I glance over at her, and she has a soft smile playing on her lips.
“Anyway, the school district we lived in didn’t offer football, so my parents went with open enrollment when it was time for me to start kindergarten in the town next to ours.
I started full-contact football at the age of five and never looked back. ”
“That’s kind of amazing, to think how your love for the game started that early, and look at you now.”
“My parents are the best. I owe them my success. All the times they took me to practice, five nights a week, and games on the weekends until I turned sixteen and got my license. They always made sure I had the best gear, going as far as buying my helmet each year to make sure that it was safe.”
“They sound pretty great.”
“They are.” I nod. “What about you? Why the animal shelter?”
“I love animals.” I can hear the truth in her words.
“I came to Los Angeles for vet school, but I didn’t love it.
School, that is, or the thought of being in school for so many more years, so I changed my major to veterinary technician.
Two years later, I was done. I applied to the shelter and was hired on the spot.
Autumn had just taken over, and we hit it off. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
“It makes a difference when you can do what you love. Makes it feel like less of a job.”
“Exactly. Not once in the time that I’ve worked at Safe Haven have I dreaded coming to work.”
“I get to play a sport for a living.” I chuckle. “It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“I don’t know, you saw the puppies, right?” she asks.