Page 33 of This Broken Heart
I’m filling the sink with water. “No matter what my dear Aunt Kim tries to tell you, we didn’t ask you to come here so that you could be her personal maid.”
“I know.” She says, drifting closer to set the plates down. “But Maven is with your dad and Charlie has Trace. I don’t have anything to do.”
“Then sit down and watch the game.”
“I don’t like football.”
I stop, turning to look at her. “Really?”
She laughs. “You should see your face.”
“You’re joking.”
“Oh, no. I’m not. I don’t understand the game. They spend so much time setting them up, just to knock them over fifteen seconds later.”
“Bythem, you’re referring to the players?”
She nods, biting back a smile.
“You do realize I played in high school, right?”
She tips her chin towards the fridge. “There’s the evidence.”
I follow her gaze and wince. “I wish she’d take that damn thing down.”
“Why? I think it’s cute.”
I huff, but inside I’m smiling. “That’s what I was aiming for. Cute.”
There’s a loud outburst in the living room, followed by a chorus of cheers. I peer into the next room, trying to divine what just happened.
“Go watch the game.” Erin says, nudging me to the side. “I can finish this up.”
“I’m right where I want to be.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
Hell, I’m skeptical, too.
But searching inside myself, I realize it’s true. I love football, but I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds of games.
I’ve never seen the way Erin looks in the fading November light.
The sun is setting, slanting warm, gold light into the kitchen. It lights up her eyes, makes her coppery hair glow. I’m kind of fascinated.
I find myself wondering what she’d look like under the moonlight.
If I’m being truthful with myself, I’d admit that I want to know what every square inch of her looks like under the moon and the stars.
But I’ll settle for how she looks when she’s scrubbing dishes.
Even that is better than any old football game.
21.
Erin
It is very difficult to play it cool when you’ve got six and a half feet of smoking hotness breathing down your neck.