Chapter 8

Eight

Kyleigh

Henry works some sort of magic, and we're sat at a table in the back corner. Rowan's carrying my plate over, and Henry is carrying Alara's.

"Just so you know, I'm taken," Alara says when we sit down.

I stare at her with a what the fuck expression.

She shrugs. "Justin would want me to tell them."

"He'd also want you to get autographs." The first time I met Justin, we talked about Rowan's trade and what it meant for the Falcons going forward.

"Understood," Henry says, picking up his menu and not giving Alara a second look.

"Not that you're not hot and shit, but I can tell you're definitely a serious relationship kind of girl." Tweetie gulps down his water in three swallows.

"How can you tell that just by looking at me?" Alara challenges him as she does with most things.

"I was disappointed when I woke up this morning," Rowan says, leaning close.

The first thing I notice is he's not wearing cologne. I loved it on him last night, but the scent of his masculine soap is even better.

"We ran out of condoms," I whisper back.

Alara eyes me over her waffle flight.

"What's that?" Bodhi asks Alara, almost sticking his finger in her whipped cream.

"Be careful, bud," Henry says, tugging him back into his seat.

"It's called a waffle flight. Each waffle has something different. This one has strawberries. This one has bananas…" She points and names the other two. She's so good with kids, but I guess that's what happens when you're training to become a child psychologist.

"Oh, I want one of those." Bodhi looks at his dad, and Henry opens his mouth.

I'm trying to focus on the table conversation rather than the way Rowan's bicep keeps brushing against mine.

"There are drug stores on every corner," he says.

Alara, Henry, and Bodhi are in a conversation about the waffle flight, and thankfully Tweetie, who was eyeing Rowan and me pretty hard, gets up to take a call, his phone held to his ear.

"Let's not call last night more than it was," I say in a low voice, then fork my pancake, feeling uncomfortable eating before they've even ordered, but happy for the excuse to not have to give my full attention to Rowan.

Alara passes Bodhi her untouched waffle flight, so now it's just the kid and me eating. This is the weirdest breakfast.

"I want to see you again." Rowan picks up my plate and sets it on the edge of the table.

"What are you doing?" I reach for the plate, but if I go too far, I'll end up stretched out over his lap.

"They're cold now. You deserve hot ones where the butter melts and soaks into the fluffy goodness. This way I can keep you here a little longer."

I sigh and hold up my coffee mug to the waitress walking by, needing something to distract me. She pours my coffee and fills Henry's cup. He asks her to pour Tweetie one too. Rowan asks for a chocolate milk.

"You drink chocolate milk?" Alara asks, not disguising how funny she thinks that is.

"I want a chocolate milk, Daddy." Bodhi looks up at Henry.

Henry looks to Rowan with a thanks-a-lot expression.

"What? It's full of calcium." Rowan shrugs.

Henry nods to the waitress, who pretends she doesn't know who they are and disappears.

"You're killing me. Be an adult and drink coffee." Henry brings his mug to his lips.

"Sorry." Rowan sips from his water glass.

Like some creeper, I so want to watch Rowan's Adam's apple bob. As soon as that thought hits me, I know that I need away from his masculine energy. It's doing a number on me.

"Did you hear me?" Rowan asks me.

"Yeah, you're opting for a kid's drink rather than an adult beverage. Why?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He turns in his chair, his arm slung over the back of mine, and memories of last night rush through my head. "I want to see you again."

"Oh yeah, um…" I try to turn away to ask Bodhi how old he is and if he likes cars or dinosaurs, anything really.

"Leigh." That snippet of my name warms my body, even if I wish it didn't. "You can at least look me in the eye if you're going to turn me down."

I swivel in my seat, and holy shit, he's really close to me. My knee bumps his muscled thigh. "Why?"

"Because at the risk of sounding cliché, last night was too good to not have a repeat."

I open my mouth and close it, my teeth nibbling on my bottom lip. "I'm not sure we can recreate that."

"So it was good for you too?"

I should've known this is what would happen with an athlete of his caliber. They're used to getting what they want and don't back down from defeat easily. Then again, I haven't outright said no. And there's a reason for that, I suppose. "Is that even a question?"

"I figured you enjoyed yourself, but you dodging seeing me again makes me think I need another shot to really prove myself."

The waitress comes over with Rowan's and Bodhi's chocolate milk, then Tweetie returns to the table, and we all order, including Alara and me. Once the waitress walks away, Alara grabs Tweetie's attention, asking him about the upcoming season. I know it's for my benefit—she usually reads a book while I scream at the television.

He goes on and on about how it's going to work so well with Magic at center and Daddy at his right. How their line is set up for success.

Rowan's fingers run along the back of my neck, and I suppress a shiver and turn back to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's okay."

He removes his hand from my neck and places it on my thigh. "This okay too?"

His fingers wrap around my thigh, his thumb running circles. That thumb might as well be on my clit for the effect it's having on me.

I turn and shield my mouth with my hand next to my cheek. "I'm not sure I know what we're doing?"

"Yeah, you do."

His blue eyes sparkle, and my heartbeat picks up pace. He's right, I do know what's going on. I could lie and say I don't want another night with him—God, or even two—but he'd see right through it.

"So what? You want to just go to the bathroom and bend me over the sink?"

"I was thinking the alley, get your back scratched up from the brick."

A current of warmth rushes through my body.

"Okay, we've given you two enough time to talk out why she left your limp dick this morning. Time to join the table conversation." Tweetie snaps his fingers between our faces.

Rowan practically growls and picks up his chocolate milk.

"So, Leigh, tell me why you look so familiar." Tweetie places his crossed arms on the table and leans in closer to me.

"Um…"

Shit, I rack my brain to try to remember if Conor ever played with Tweetie. Conor's with the Florida Fury now, and Tweetie played for the Fury, too, but Tweetie was already in Nashville before Conor got there. There's no way our paths should've ever crossed.

"She has that look. You know, where everyone thinks they know her." Alara pulls his attention off me.

"No, she doesn't," Rowan says. "There's nothing ordinary about her."

My stomach does a swoosh as if I'm on a rollercoaster.

Tweetie scrunches his eyebrows at Rowan. "Okay, man, you need to tone down the stalker vibes."

"I think it was sweet," Alara says, smiling at Rowan. "It's okay to like my girl. She's awesome. But you have to share her."

"Oh, Magic doesn't share. I do, however." Tweetie winks at me.

"Yeah, not my thing." I'm not sure what to make of this guy.

Rowan's fingers wrap tighter around my leg and slide up closer to the apex of my thighs. I straighten my back and force myself to take a deep breath. I'll never make it through breakfast at this point.

"Can we remember innocent ears over here?" Henry chimes in, and we all look at Bodhi, who is busy piling waffles into his mouth.

Tweetie turns his attention back to us. "So, Leigh, what do you do besides my boy here?"

"Funny." I give him a half-assed smile.

"Inappropriate," Henry says, looking up from his phone.

"I'm in school to become a child psychologist." Alara raises her hand as though she was asked the question, and I can't thank her enough for taking the spotlight off me.

"That's great." Henry pockets his phone and starts a conversation with her about why she decided to get into that line of work.

Which leaves me with Tweetie and Rowan. I drill a hole into the pancake man's peripheral. I want my pancakes now.

"You a Falcons fan at least?" Tweetie asks.

"I am."

"You from Chicago?"

"I am." He doesn't need to know anything else about me.

"Who's your second favorite player since Rowan is probably your first now?"

"Why don't we cool it with the inquisition?" Rowan says before finishing his chocolate milk.

"Hey, I'm trying to get to know the girl better, okay?" Tweetie brings his coffee mug to his lips. "You should be happy I care so much. Her bff isn't vetting you." He glares at Alara, but she's too busy talking to Henry to hear him.

"Last I checked, we're not dating," I say.

"Yet," Tweetie says.

"Excuse me?"

"Yet. I see it. My boy really likes you. You must have one magic pussy."

"Sorenson," Rowan clips out his last name.

Tweetie laughs. "Jokes. They're just jokes. But seriously, I feel like it's oddly coincidental we all end up at the same breakfast place after she left your sorry ass in bed this morning, no?"

I can't really deny his point, so I say nothing. Rowan doesn't either.

Our food comes out, and I'm happy for the distraction of pancakes. Rowan ordered an omelet with hash browns and a side of pancakes. He pulls the pancakes in front of him first, grabbing packets of butter, and puts a pat under each pancake.

Tweetie is busy with his head down in his meat lover's breakfast. He's got bacon, Canadian bacon, and sausage in some skillet concoction.

"You're really serious about your pancakes, huh?" I ask.

Rowan's gaze lifts to mine. "Give me yours." He pushes his plate aside and pulls mine in front of him, doing the same with the butter. "This is the most important part—the bottom pancake gets two butters."

"You're adding a lot of calories to my breakfast."

He doesn't respond, continuing to add the butter, then he lifts each pancake and puts syrup on each one. Not a ton where it soaks them, but just enough that there won't be one bite without the right amount of syrup.

"Here you go." He slides the plate in front of me.

"He's letting you see his neurotic pancake perfection. That's, like, fourth date shit, man." Tweetie eyes my plate of pancakes.

I cut into them, forking off a piece. I feel Rowan's eyes on me, and I turn to him as the sweet goodness explodes in my mouth. Hell, he's onto something.

He nods at my plate. "You'll never go back, right?"

I nod and continue to eat with everyone.

After we finish, Rowan asks for the check and goes up to pay at the counter. He returns with a bouquet of Dum Dums and holds it out to me. Tweetie tries to reach in, but Rowan smacks his hand.

"I always get first choice," Bodhi whines.

"Not now, kid, Rowan is smitten." Tweetie thumbs in Rowan's direction. "Let him try to impress her."

"I like the root beer ones," Bodhi says.

Rowan reaches into his pocket and pulls out two, handing them to Tweetie to give to Bodhi.

"Thanks!"

"Two?" Henry shakes his head.

I examine the bouquet of candy and pull out the blue raspberry one. He passes the rest around and pulls another out of his other pocket. It's a blue raspberry one.

"Another coincidence," he says, tapping his Dum Dum to mine before taking the wrapper off and putting it in his mouth.

I've never wanted to be a lollipop more in my life.

We finally all get up so another group can have our table. A few patrons stop the guys to shake hands and wish them luck this season. Henry, Tweetie, and Rowan are all polite, and once we're on the sidewalk, I figure we'll be saying our goodbyes. I'm surprised by the disappointment in my chest.

Rowan takes my hand, pulling me away from the group. "What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"Um…"

"Come home with me," he says, and I sigh. It's so tempting. "I have a full box of condoms," he smirks, and my core clenches involuntarily.

"I gotta go!" Alara waves to me. "Call me later."

"We're heading home," Tweetie calls, and the three of them walk away.

I watch all their backs walking down the street.

"Rowan, I'm not looking for?—"

He presses a finger to my lips. "Me either." He steps closer. "Just…I want more…that's all."

And I'm sure that is all he wants. Why would I even think he'd want a relationship?

"Okay," I say, and he raises his hand for a taxi. "We can walk."

He opens the taxi door, waiting for me to climb in. "No, we can't."

He gets in next to me, his hand on my thigh again, and gives the taxi driver the address, shutting the door behind him.

As much as I want to go to his place, my gut says this could be a really bad idea. Because I'm not really a Friday night girl. I do like relationships. Well, up until my mom decided to ruin hers.