Page 92 of Against the Clock
I scowl at him, or try to, but it’s impossible to even pretend to be mad.
“I would love to help you out with your pocket later, baby,” he says, so ridiculously handsome that I give up.
“Fine! Help me with my pocket! I’d like that, too.”
It just makes him laugh harder, and he closes the door.
Darius and Shara’s house rests against a sea of yellow and orange-leafed trees, the picturesque home illuminated by bright lights that show off the gorgeous exterior.
“Wow.” It’s about all I can say as Daniel pulls the car up the circle drive, parking next to a top-of-the-line SUV. The drive’s crowded with cars and I tug at the hem of my blouse, feeling self-conscious.
Shara and Darius and their kids were so adorable and welcoming I forgot that tonight would be full of other AFL players and their dates.
“Do I look okay?”
“You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen,” Daniel says easily. He glances over at me, then does a double-take. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “What if they don’t like me?”
“That’s not even possible. You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re funny. Will they be intimidated by your beauty? Probably. But they’re used to it, because they’re around me all day.” His eyebrows move up and down, his wide grin contagious.
My lips twist to the side and I let out a laugh before studying his face. “You’re good at that, you know?”
“At being really, really ridiculously good-looking?” He squints, sucking in his cheeks and making a kissing face.
“Huh?” I wrinkle my nose. “I meant at making me feel better. At putting people at ease.”
“So I’m not really, really, ridiculously good-looking?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, because it’s clear he’s trying to make me laugh, but I don’t get it at all.
“You haven’t seen Zoolander?” He lets the weird expression go, surprise taking its place.
“No. Is it on Netflix?”
“I think I have it on DVD,” he says ruefully, yanking the shifter into park. “Don’t worry, we’ll correct your education this weekend.”
“Is it good?”
“No, it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”
I huff out a laugh. “If you say so.”
A moment later, our arms are full of candy (for betting) and flowers (for Shara) and wine (for everyone), and Daniel strides into their house like he’s been here a million times.
“How well do you know them?” I manage, trying not to stare as he bypasses knocking and simply opens the door.
“Darius and I played on the Mustangs together in Colorado,” he tells me. “It’s rare for players to manage to play on more than one team together. Usually, we get friendly with each other only to move away with three hours’ notice. You get used to saying goodbye. Having Darius here was like…” He pauses and I tear my gaze away from the lavish but tasteful surroundings to glance up at him. “It was like a sign. That this is where I’m supposed to be.” He squeezes my hand and loud laughter spills out of a doorway. A little kid—the middle one, I think—appears, pushing the pocket doors wide open before launching full speed toward Daniel.
“Hey little man,” Daniel says, ruffling his hair.
“Daniel. Daniel! DANIEL’S HERE!” the kid screams, and I try not to wince, slightly shocked by the amount of volume coming from such a small body.
Shara beams at us as she follows her son through the doors.
“Hey there, you two. Kelsey, it’s good to see you again. Please tell me these flowers aren’t for me.”
“They’re for you,” Daniel says. “We brought enough candy to buy in a few times and enough wine to have a rough morning.”