Page 16 of Singled Out
Harper
Max Dawson in a tuxedo could throw a girl off her game on a good night.
This wasn’t a good night, but I was extra determined not to succumb to the swirl of emotions threatening to swoop in at any moment. Distraction was my friend.
Once I’d set the beautiful flowers from Piper’s store in their vase on the table, I picked up my evening clutch and rejoined Max. When he met my gaze and smiled, I stopped breathing for a few seconds as I closed the space between us. He held out his arm, and I looped my hand around it, lightly grasping just above his elbow.
The fabric of his tux was smooth beneath my fingers, and I deduced two things. One, this wasn’t a rental. Two, it was high quality. Though he didn’t flaunt it, Max had money. I knew where he lived; everyone did.
Back when he’d retired from the NFL because of his injury, he’d had a modest home built for his mom and snapped up a prime lakefront lot for himself. His custom-built home wasn’t a mansion. From the street, it appeared to be a little prettier and bigger than the average Dragonfly Lake home, but there was nothing about it that screamed former-NFL millionaire. From what little I knew of him personally, that understatedness fit. But there was no question he’d dropped an above-average sum of money on it, probably in cash.
He walked me to the passenger door of his high-end SUV.
“Nice wheels,” I said. “I like the way the black sparkles.”
“Piper said you like bright colors.”
“True. My car is teal. But you get extra points for sparkles.”
He opened the door and helped me up into the vehicle with a large hand at my elbow. A quarterback’s hand. I might not be wild about the sport, but I could see the appeal in the athlete.
While he walked around to the driver’s side, I closed my eyes and coached myself to ignore the way he looked and—dammit—the way he smelled.
He’s Dakota’s brother, not some Hollywood star. Just a guy who probably leaves the toilet seat up.
“It’s at the Wentworth?” he asked as he slid in. He opened his map app on the dash display.
“Right. It should take us an hour tops, unless we run into traffic.”
He typed in the hotel, and we were on our way.
“I heard your team won last night,” I said.
“We did, by a hair. Could’ve gone either way.”
“Must’ve been some decent coaching.” I grinned at his handsome profile, and he flicked his gaze at me for a second before returning it to the road.
“That or a defensive line that dug deep and kept the other team from scoring last minute.”
“I wonder who inspired them to dig deep,” I teased.
“You didn’t go to the game?”
“Will you kick me out of the car if I admit I’m not a huge fan?”
He surprised me by laughing. “Not at all. It’s refreshing.”
That was an interesting response. “I went to games when I was in school, but it was for the social aspect. I don’t understand the rules, and I don’t like to sit still for that long, particularly once it gets cold.”
“If you ever want to understand the rules, I know a guy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. He was easier to talk to than I’d expected. Five minutes in and I could tell he was humble and had a good sense of humor. “Everybody knows your football history, but what I’m dying to know is, why math?”
He looked surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a date ask me about math.”
“Did you choose to teach math or get stuck with it?” I asked.
“I didn’t get stuck with it. I’ve always loved math.”