Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
As far as ideas went, asking Diana if he could stay with her wasn’t one of Amil’s worst.
It certainly wasn’t his best, either, based on the frustration on her face.
At the moment, he thought he deserved at least a tiny bit of credit for keeping his gaze on her face. She was standing before him in a pair of casual black pants and a hot pink tank top that was very thin.
And she wasn’t wearing a bra.
And while it didn’t feel cold to him, it must to Diana, because her nipples were stabbing at that thin material, demanding he lower his eyes and stare at them. Or maybe suck them through the fabric until she became a moaning, writhing mess, begging him to—
Whoa. In these sweats he’d hurriedly tugged on when the manager had knocked on his hotel room door, it was about to become way too obvious how he felt about the state of Diana’s nipples.
Which wasn’t cool. He was supposed to be keeping his distance, not thinking about her like that. She was a one-and-done kind of girl, and it was his job to respect those boundaries.
Which meant, yeah, this was definitely one of his worst ideas.
She walked away without responding to his request, snatched an insulated cup off the coffee table in the living room and took a hefty swallow.
Something told him there was rum and Diet Coke in that cup. If not, he bet she wished there was.
She turned to face him and waved her arm in an arch. “This place is 653 square feet, Amil.”
A little bigger than he guessed the first time he was here. That meant her bedroom was probably decent sized.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. Seriously. And it won’t be for long. I’ll devote every minute that I’m not practicing or playing in a game to finding a house.”
He didn’t tell her that he didn’t even ask a single other person if he could crash with them. Or, as she’d pointed out earlier, looked into Airbnb rentals.
Hell, that would have been the easiest solution.
And yet, here he was, trying to convince her that they could cohabitate within the confines of her tiny one-bedroom condo.
The most obvious question was, why?
The answer was…he had no idea.
Okay, he had an idea; he just didn’t want to admit to it.
To admit that he’d missed hanging out with her over the course of the last week. It was cool that he and Jalen had become friends. It was even cooler that every guy on the team had accepted him. He was officially part of a team, in every way he’d ever wanted.
He was literally living his dream, and yet, here he was, standing in Diana’s living room, practically begging her to let him crash on her couch, despite having plenty of other options.
“Amil…”
“Very temporary,” he reiterated. “I swear. Besides, look.” He nodded at the cats, who were now zooming around the living room, reaching out and swatting at the other as they passed. Over and over.
Her lips quirked.
“If you’re willing to take on Patches, I’ll go find another place to stay,” he backpedaled. He didn’t want to. But asking her to babysit his newly adopted kitten was asking far more than he normally would of a friend.
Asking her to share her small living space with him?
Platonically?
Certifiable.
She rubbed at her forehead. “That isn’t going to help you bond with Patches.”
“We’ll be fine. Like I said, it’s temporary.”
“Exactly. It’s temporary.”
He paused, unsure what to say next. “I’ll—”
“Ugh.” She threw her hands into the air. “Fine. You can stay.”
“You mean Patches.”
“I mean you and Patches.” She narrowed her eyes as if daring him to argue.
If she was opening her house to him, there was no way in hell he’d argue. Instead, he forced himself not to grin manically. “I make a hell of a mean breakfast.”
He recalled, during that night they’d spent together, her talking about breakfast like it was the greatest meal of the day.
She arched her brows. “Are you suggesting that you will make breakfast for me? Every day?”
He nodded solemnly, even as his lips twitched. “Every day,” he promised.
She sighed. “There’s only one bathroom.”
“I’m not one of those guys. I spend only the necessary amount of time in there to take care of business.”
“The bathroom is in my bedroom.”
That gave him pause, but probably not for the reason she was expecting.
He was an early morning guy. He liked to get up and get in a jog before making breakfast and heading to the practice facility.
He liked exercising outdoors, and there weren’t a whole lot of fans hanging out at six in the morning.
He was reasonably confident that she was not so inclined to get up at the crack of dawn, which meant he was going to have to slip into her bedroom while she was sleeping and try really hard not to soak in the sight of her in peaceful slumber.
Try really hard not to wish he were in that bed with her.
“I’ll be very quiet. You won’t even know I’m there.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much.” Another sigh and then she stalked into the kitchen, pulled a single key off a hook on the wall near the door. The keychain dangling from it was from UCLA, which he knew was the university she and Allison and Emma attended together.
“This is the key to my condo.” She shoved it into his hand and then snagged another cluster of keys, holding up a tiny plastic key card attached to the ring.
“This gets you past the lobby and to the bank of elevators, which you should not have been able to get to earlier.” She gave him what he assumed was an attempt at a stern look.
He didn’t mention that one of the other tenants had held the elevator for him without questioning whether he lived here.
“We’ll have to get you your own copy Monday morning. In the meantime, go get your stuff. I’ll dig out my extra sheets and pillows.”
He closed his hand around the keys. “Thanks, Diana. I owe you. Big-time.”
“You do. And you had better not renege on that promise of breakfast every day.”
“Absolutely not,” he said with a solemn nod. “Are you fully stocked with breakfast foods, or do I need to run to the grocery store?”
“You should definitely not run to the grocery store. You will be mauled by fans.” She plucked her phone from the counter, waving it. “I’ll place an order for delivery. Go get your stuff.”
He very nearly hugged her but managed to hold himself back. Instead, he slipped out of the condo, hurried downstairs, out onto the street where his truck was parked. He had to drive around for a few minutes until he found a parking structure that allowed long-term parking.
By the time he returned to the condo, Diana had placed a pile of sheets and blankets and pillows on one end of the couch and was in the process of unpacking Patches’s supplies. He had no doubt that she’d also placed a grocery order.
Diana was amazingly efficient.
Which was hot as hell, but that was a thought he needed to pack away.
She’d also swapped her mixed drink for a glass of wine, which he decided to take as a sign that she was no longer distressed about the idea of the two of them cohabitating.
He stepped into the kitchen, and she waved at her glass. “Rosé. Do you want some?”
“Sure.”
He carried his duffle into the living room and tucked it behind the chair. Her place was nice and orderly, which he appreciated, and he didn’t want to make it feel cluttered. Which was probably going to be impossible—it really was a small space—but he’d do his damndest to try.
He didn’t want to upset Diana, and he sure as hell didn’t want her to kick him out.
She handed him a glass of wine. “I’ll show you the bathroom.”
He followed her into her bedroom. It had hardwood floors like the rest of the condo.
The queen-sized bed sat in the middle of a fluffy dark blue rug.
The comforter on the bed was white with blue stripes.
There were a couple of artsy prints hanging on the walls, carrying on the blue theme.
A framed photo of her and Allison and Emma perched on the nightstand.
The huge windows were bare except for honeycomb blinds.
A computer desk pressed against one wall looked like it doubled as a makeup vanity. Two sets of accordion doors flanked the entry to the bathroom.
She tugged open the door on the left to reveal a washer and dryer. “The other one is my closet. I can make room if you have stuff that needs to be hung up.”
“I’m good right now.” Their coach didn’t have any dress code requirements for game days, and Amil had no plans in the immediate future that would involve a suit.
She led him into the bathroom. There was a vanity with ample counter space and plenty of drawers underneath. A toilet next to it. And parked under yet another large window, with a screen blocking the view but still allowing in sunlight, was an old-fashioned copper soaker tub.
His gaze scoured the rest of the space. “There’s no shower.”
Diana flapped her hand at the oversized tub, narrowly missing the light fixture hanging over it. “There’s a handheld showerhead.”
Amil arched his brows.
Her cheeks flushed, and she took a hurried sip of wine. “The previous owner did this. I didn’t read the description well enough before putting in my offer. I told you I bought it sight unseen.”
“I’m not judging you.”
She huffed. “Good. Because now that I’ve gotten used to it, I kind of like it. Seriously. There’s nothing like a long soak at the end of a rough day.”
“I’ll bet.”
Her cheeks went even more dusky. It was a good look on her.
So was the image of her in this tub, absolutely, blessedly naked, water droplets clinging to her smooth, dark skin, and—
He shook his head. “Let’s go see what the cats are up to.”
Anything to get him out of this room and those far too erotic images it offered up.
Yeah, this was definitely one of his worst ideas ever.