2. Nate

TWO

NATE

Fucking hell, this woman is a damn knockout.

Her hand trembles in mine, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and placing my other hand on the back of hers.

I've seen it before, the starstruck behavior. And I've learned to ignore it, because by not addressing it, no one ends up embarrassed.

So when her wide blue eyes blink up at me, I pretend not to see the sheen of tears.

She must be a superfan.

I give her hand another shake before I let go.

Her hair is a deep shade of red, pulled back into a high ponytail, and I want to wrap my hand around it.

I clear my throat.

I'm a thirty-seven-year-old man. Not a creeper.

I will not pop a boner standing in my friend's doorway.

Maddox's doorway.

If this woman in front of me is one of Hannah's friends, Maddox will kill me if I try to fuck her.

The woman steps back, pulling the door open wider.

She doesn't say anything, but I take the silent invitation and follow her inside .

When she moves behind me to shut the door, I glance over my shoulder, wanting to get a look at her body without her noticing.

My glance turns into a stare.

I have to resist lifting my fist to my mouth, wanting to bite my knuckle to stifle a groan, because good lord below, I'm going to hell for the things I'm willing to do to get my hands on that fucking ass.

I bite the inside of my cheek.

Is she the type of woman who's into butt stuff?

With a body like that, she fucking should be.

Her ass is thick. And grabbable. And I bet it would jiggle if I smacked it.

The woman turns around, and before I can notice anything else, I notice the apron.

My grin grows.

"You catering?" I ask, hardly hiding my excitement.

If she's with the caterer, then she's not Hannah's friend.

And she's fair game.

The woman nods, also looking down at herself, like she forgot what she was wearing.

Her apron is tied tightly around her waist, causing it to pull snugly across her tits. And her tits match her ass. I want to take a fucking nap on them.

Maybe she'd be willing to take off everything… but the apron.

Her cheeks are pink when she looks back up at me, and I work to school my features.

"So…" I lift my brows. "Need help in the kitchen, or should I go find Maddox?"

She swallows, and I find myself leaning toward her, anxious to hear her speak.

"He's not home yet." Her voice is quiet, a little soft, and I need to find a way to make her say my name. "You can?—"

The doorbell rings, and my little redhead startles so badly that she lets out a squeak of surprise.

I bite down on a laugh as I reach out and lightly grip her upper arm. "My apologies for ringing the doorbell twice. That's loud as hell."

She looks up at me, and I wish I could read her expression .

It's alarm and something that looks like… sadness—but probably isn't.

Poor girl is overwhelmed.

"I need to get that," she whispers, keeping her gaze averted from mine.

My hold on her arm is loose, so when she steps away, my hand falls back to my side.

She moves to open the door for the newcomer.

She's not exactly short, maybe five foot five, but she's short compared to me.

I'm not the tallest dude I know, but at six foot three, I'm taller than most wide receivers. And even though my playing days are over, and I can't run like I used to, and I don't work out as much as I used to, I still stand up straighter and pull my shoulders back before the girl without a name turns back around.

A stranger follows her into the house, and I step to the side to make room for them.

"Hannah asked me to have you wait in the living room, if that's okay." The caterer tells the other woman. She starts to walk past me before she pauses. "You can, uh, come with."

Nate.

Just say my name, Beautiful. Let me hear it on your lips.

I dip my chin and hold my arm out, gesturing for them to go ahead.

The stranger gives me a smile, a nod, and a once-over before she follows the caterer down the hall.

Following, I run a hand through my hair. I could probably use a haircut, but I've kind of enjoyed the shaggy look. And, based on the perusal I just got, the style is working for me.

I slow my steps, and when the women turn toward the living room, I veer off toward the kitchen.

"Smells good," I state as I stop in front of the island currently covered in food.

The girl on the other side of the counter snaps her head up at the sound of my voice.

"Thanks…" Her eyes narrow, then widen. "Holy fucking shit. You're Nate Waller."

Two fans in a row.

I smile. "Last I checked."

She slaps her hand down on the counter.

We both look down at the wet slapping sound, and she lifts her hand, revealing a squashed meatball.

She shakes her head—at me or the meatball, I'm not sure. "Craziest day ever."

"And the party hasn't even started."

The girl wiggles her brows. "Are there more of you coming?"

I spread my arms out. "I'm a one and only."

She snorts. "Football players, I mean."

I give her a slow nod. "A handful."

She bounces on her toes. "Like who?"

I tilt my head. "I feel like it'll be more fun if you just wait and see."

She purses her lips, then nods once. "That's fair. But blink once if Max Lovelace will be here."

I hold my eyes open for a long moment, then blink.

The girl fist pumps the air, but my eyes are locked on the light blue ones of the woman who just stepped up beside her.

The redhead still looks leery, so I try to break the tension. "Would you ladies like a signature?"

The chatty girl nods so fast her braids bounce around her shoulders. But the other woman just stares at me.

Close enough to a yes.

Knowing my way around Maddox's house, I stride across the kitchen to the cupboard in the far corner and pull out a notepad.

Snagging a pen too, I turn around and lean against the counter, now on the same side of the island as the ladies.

"Can you make it out to Presley?" The girl is drying her hands on a towel, having washed off the meatball remains.

"Sure thing." I write my usual thanks for the support , then tear off the page and hand it to her.

"Best day ever," she says as she takes it.

I move my attention back to the redhead. "And your name?"