Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Penelope
The walk to Decker’s condo is quiet even with the fans lingering at the nearby bars and restaurants.
Even though the city moves around us, it feels as if it’s just the two of us.
My brain is clocking everything about our proximity.
His hand so close, every fifth step his pinkie finger brushes mine.
His breathing is relaxed. His strides are a little shorter, so he stays on pace with me.
Mostly, my brain zeros in on his scent, which oddly is the same as I remember back in college after a game.
A group of patrons spills out of a bar on the corner, still in Colts gear, and Decker quickly positions himself to block them from running right into me.
They all say excuse me, but one of them clocks Decker and opens his mouth. Decker nods, and the guy looks at the two of us walking close together and continues on with his group.
We continue down the street, coming closer to his building. I have no idea why my heart is racing. Well, that’s not true. I do, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
There’s a line outside of Peeper’s, mostly women, and the minute one of them sees Decker, the group starts talking and pointing. I can’t blame them—this is the reason they’re here, to meet a Colts player, since three of them live in the condos above the bar.
I inch closer to Decker, seeing some of the people break away from the line, ready to approach us.
He must sense my discomfort, because his hand casually falls into mine.
His palm is warm, his calluses prominent.
His touch makes me feel safe, but people are still approaching.
I fear at some point, we’re going to be torn apart.
Decker lifts his hand to the crowd. “Have a good evening, everyone.”
He leads me to the security gate, not tearing down the sign that says The Dugout with more notes and phone numbers than I’ve ever seen on it before.
I deny the petty side of me that wants to tear it down and drop it the ground, claiming that Decker is taken because he’s not. At least not by me.
A guy approaches, and Decker shuffles me through the security door first. “Deck, man, a picture?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time. Thanks for coming out.” He allows the door to shut and the guy mumbles, calling him an asshole.
“You could have taken the picture. I would have waited.”
“I came to the realization a long time ago that they don’t own me.”
He never was one to be enamored with the fame that comes from playing a professional sport. He truly just loves the game.
“Now he’s going to tell people you were an asshole when he met you.”
Decker waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t really care.”
“You should. You know that how the city views you is important, and you’re in a contract year.”
He still hasn’t released my hand, so he walks up a few stairs, turning to look at me. “You keeping tabs on my contract?”
“My dad is your manager.”
His eyebrows raise, and I let him guide me up the steps. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the reason you know it’s my contract year.”
I say nothing.
We walk up the steps, and I stop on the landing for the first condo.
Decker shakes his head. “Unless you want to participate in a threesome, that’s not the door to go through.”
Ah, Easton lives here.
“Well, I’m not into the two-women thing, but maybe two guys could be fun.”
He tilts his head and the corners of his lips tip. “What if one of those guys isn’t a very good sharer?”
We get to the second door, and he stops, his hand moving to the security keypad.
“Then he shouldn’t agree to a threesome. And in truth, I’d rather have the sole attention of one man.”
He looks at me, and our gazes lock and hold. It’s dangerous and stupid to have this teasing conversation minutes before we go into his condo, alone. No Hazel, no friends, just the two of us sharing his space.
He opens his condo door, and I step inside and come to a stop. “Either you have a cleaning lady, or you cleaned.”
Decker isn’t much for having a clean space.
His bedroom was always a mess in high school.
College was worse without his mom picking up after him.
Even his hotel room three years ago was littered with clothes hanging over the edge of his suitcase, empty water bottles, and wrappers on the nightstand and dresser.
It’s such the opposite to how he handles himself.
“Hey, maybe I’ve changed.”
I look at him, and he chuckles.
“I may have cleaned more than usual.” He looks a little embarrassed by his admission. It’s endearing.
The kitchen counter is completely clear. The throw blanket has been folded and spread across the corner of the couch.
“Is that a candle?” I walk over to the end table in the living room and pick it up to smell it. There’s a familiarity to it, but I can’t pinpoint the scent. I lift the candle, but it just says Good Sunset.
“I may like candles now.” He shrugs.
I set it down and continue to scan the area. It’s masculine but homey. Not a lot of picture frames on his walls, but there’s one of him holding Ellis. I pick it up to examine it.
He sets his keys on the entry table, and he moves into the kitchen. It distracts me from the emotion clogging my throat.
“Callie gave it to me for my birthday,” he says, resting his hip against the island, watching me take in his space. “Water, wine, beer?”
I put the picture back and meet him in the kitchen. “I better stick to water.”
He closes the fridge with two bottles in his hand. “Afraid your willpower will wane?”
Are we really going to talk but not talk about it?
“Well, you know that Noir Cologne ad and all. I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain myself if I have any alcohol.”
His cheeks redden. “Ah, that was embarrassing.”
“Why? The woman behind us thought you had sexy feet.”
He huffs, and his head falls back. “You can’t even see them.”
I slide onto the stool across from him, placing my bag on the other stool. “I think it’s the whole look. I mean… it’s sexy, Decker.”
“It’s a cologne ad. They’re all sexy.”
I smile, unable to not enjoy seeing him so uncomfortable because people now see him as a sex symbol. I clicked on social media during the seventh inning stretch, and his new cologne ad was everywhere.
“What?” he asks.
“It’s just… I think I’ve known you so long, it’s weird.” I sip my water, thinking about how turned on I was by that ad. God help me if he did a commercial with it too.
“So, you didn’t find me sexy in it?” Those deep-brown eyes stare into mine.
I wish I could be one of those women who can play hard to get. Who can play it coy. “I didn’t say that.” It’s the most truth I can handle at the moment.
A small smile forms on his lips, and he unscrews his water cap. “I’ll take it.”
“Okay.” I clear my throat, digging into my bag to take out the pad of paper and the roster. I work better visually and need to see it written down, not just on my laptop.
“Let’s go to the couch.” He grabs my water and walks into the living room before I can answer.
“Or we can just stay here.”
“My legs are tired. I promise we’ll stay on separate ends of the couch.” He smirks.
I love Flirtatious Decker, but doesn’t he know I’m hanging on by the thinnest thread right now?
Sure, Penelope, walk right into the fire. Why the hell not?