I knocked and she opened the door wearing a pair of Minion pajama shorts and holding a hammer.

I laughed.

“I know,” she said sheepishly. “I never should have texted you. It’s silly. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

I was tired. Football and then training had kicked my ass—but it was worth seeing her in those pajamas.

“Nope. I was up.”

She smiled and opened the door wider, letting me pass and get a whiff of her fresh scent.

I plopped down on the couch and she sat next to me. She walked me through hearing the noise and then finding the flower, explaining how Bart was at his frat party tonight.

“Maybe it was the kid next door,” she said, yawning. “I see her out playing outside all the time. She knows my name, too.”

Maybe. I made a mental note to keep a sharper eye out on her house.

We settled into the couch further, and I lifted my hand and trailed it through her hair. Her head drifted closer until it rested in the crook of my arm. I caressed her head, massaging her scalp as she told me about her day. Little stuff. She’d dreamed up a name for a future boutique—Bend the Trend—and she’d been reading for her Lit class. I didn’t ask about Bart. I refused to think about him being in a class with her where I wasn’t around. I refused to acknowledge why it made me jealous.

I told her about Felix and how he got on my nerves because he was constantly watching me when I trained—as if trying to suss out how to beat me or how to play me somehow.

Half an hour later, her breathing grew deeper and her head lolled around on my shoulder. She’d fallen asleep. I grinned. We hadn’t even turned the television on.

I scooped her up and carried her to her room where I checked out the queen-sized bed. Sweet baby Jesus, I’d take up the whole damn thing.

She didn’t ask you to stay the night, I reminded myself.

Right.

This wasn’t a booty call; this was me being a friend.

I pulled back the soft white duvet, laid her inside, and pulled the covers over her. She snuggled down into her pillow. I sat there, watching her. Long strands of white-blond hair were spread everywhere.

I should go.

She grabbed my hand as I got up to leave. “Stay.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know . . . because I want you to. And I trust you.”

Those words hammered at my heart. Trust. She trusted me. My heart raced because I knew it hadn’t come easy.

“I have to sleep naked,” I murmured, already pulling my shirt off by reaching behind my neck and slipping my head through. I pushed my shorts down, kicked them to the side, and stood there in my black athletic boxers. “But I’ll keep my underwear on . . . just so you don’t have a heart attack at the enormity of my package.”

She snorted, her gaze flitting over my crotch. “Whatever. It looks rather small to me.”

“You’re lying, and I will pay you back.” I jumped in the bed, my size and weight dislodging her and making her flop around. I stuck my cold feet to her backside and she yelped and scuttled to the other side.

“Hey! Not fair. Just when I had it all warm,” she protested, her body hanging on the edge of the bed trying to escape.

“Come back and I’ll keep you toasty.” I reached over, wrapped an arm around her, and tugged her until her back was aligned with my chest.

“Mmm,” she said, her bottom wiggling into my crotch, making me bite my bottom lip. Fuccccccck.

“You feel perfect. My little heater.” She sighed.

“Uh-huh.” I sucked in a sobering breath. My balls ached. I closed my eyes and swallowed down the growl in my throat. One good hard squeeze from her soft hand and I’d come all over the place.

“You sure this is okay?” she asked. “You seem tense.”

“Yeah, I’m golden, Cookie,” I croaked. She no doubt felt my erection, but being the sweet girl she was, she was going to ignore it and not comment.

She yawned. “I’m glad you came. Now I can sleep.”

Perfect. I put her to sleep.

“ . . . long night at work. I had to put books in the basement . . . place gives me the creeps. I hate closed off spaces . . . and spiders, as you well know. There’s one living in this room somewhere, by the way. I haven’t found him yet . . .” she yawned again.

“So you told me earlier. I’m here to keep you safe,” I murmured, brushing at the hair on her shoulders. I sighed, feeling oddly content. My fingers twisted some of her hair and pulled it off her neck to see more of her skin. The tattoo I saw was surprising, although I don’t know why. Maybe it was because it didn’t exactly fit with the quiet image she portrayed.

I studied it. Small blue feathery angel wings framed the back of her nape, from where her hairline started to where her neck met her shoulders. Written in delicately scripted letters were the words, She wore her scars like wings.

Tightness gripped my chest.

Protectiveness rushed through me. I tucked her in closer and pressed a kiss to her neck. As long as she was with me, they’d be no more scars.

Max

I EASED OFF THE BIKE seat, football on my mind. Tonight was a home game against number one ranked Louisiana Lafayette. We had to win.

“Nervous?” Tate asked as I came in the house through the back door. He noticed every twitch of my hand and shift in my mood, which is what made us such a good duo on the field.

I nodded. “Stupid, right? I’ve played a hundred times, but—it always gets to me.”