Behind the Camera (Love through a Lens, #2)

by Chelsea Curto

The door to the apartment flies open. I crane my neck to look into the foyer, and I jump off the couch when I see Maven and June. “Mae?” I call out. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” I hustle toward the door. I check June for injuries when I get to them, but I don’t see so much as a scratch on her. “Hi,” Maven says, and her voice is strained. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are red, and my heart hammers worriedly in my chest. “We’re fine. I just… I messed up, and I feel like a horrible person.” “Talk to me. Are you hurt?” “No, no. No one is hurt.” “Did you kill someone? Do we need to hide a body? I think I might have a shovel somewhere in the apartment.” I take the backpack hanging from her shoulder and set it on the floor. “Wait a second. Is this another candy necklace situation?” A soft laugh escapes her, and my shoulders relax. “No. We didn’t terrorize any department stores today. June and I were in the movie, and she kept fidgeting. I asked if she needed to use the bathroom

three times, and she said no. When we were leaving, I realized she had an accident. I forgot to bring a change of clothes with us, so I had to make the poor girl sit in her—” Maven takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dallas. I feel horrible.” “Daddy!” June flings her arms around my leg, and I squat down to kiss her forehead. Her shorts are damp, but she seems unfazed. “We saw a movie.” “Did you? How was it?” “There was a princess.” June sighs and rests her head on my chest. “A pretty princess.” “We love princesses.” My eyes flick to Maven, and she’s gnawing on her bottom lip. There’s a tug toward her. A yank, almost, to let her know she didn’t do anything wrong, because I hate seeing her defeated and upset. “Mae, hey. It’s okay. Accidents happen. When JB was younger, she had explosive diarrhea when we were at a birthday party.” “Explosive!” June repeats, and I laugh. “Majorly explosive. Guess who forgot her diaper bag? Me. Getting home was a nightmare, and I had to throw away her car seat. Don’t worry about it.” “Do you think she’s traumatized?” Maven asks. “Do you think she hates me?” “June? Do you hate Maven?” I ask my daughter point blank, and June frowns. “I love Mae Mae,” she says. “See? Kid’s already forgotten about it. She’s got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll give her a bath and put her in some clean clothes. She’ll be as good as new.”

“I can do it,” Maven says quickly. “It’s my fault. I told you to take the afternoon off, and I⁠—” “There’s no such thing as taking the afternoon off when you’re a parent. It’s fine. Really. It’ll take me ten minutes.” “I’m the one who messed up, and I’d like to be the one to make it right.” Her eyes meet mine. “Please, Dallas.” Oh, fuck me. I shouldn’t like hearing her say that, but I do. It messes me up. Catches me off guard and alters my brainwaves a little, because when June tugs on my shirt, I realize I’m staring at Maven like I’ve lost any and all intelligence. Maybe I have. “Okay,” I say, and it feels like there’s a frog in my throat. “Sure. Yeah. Thank you.” “I’m sorry again.” She takes June’s hand in hers. “You go and have fun. We’ll stay out of your way.” “I don’t want you to stay out of the way. Come to the living room when you’re done. I’m making burgers, and my friends and I are going to watch the game. You should join us.” “Are you sure? I don’t w...

“Hey,” he says with his southern drawl, the syllable a little tired around the edges but still irreplaceably lovely. “There you are.” I blink, and I jerk my gaze away from the spot above his hip and back to his face. He must have caught me staring, because he smirks and tilts his head to the side, a twinkle behind the dark brown of his eyes. “Hi,” I say, and my throat goes dry. “If you’re going to eye-fuck me Maven, you could at least buy me dinner first.” “I am not eye-fucking you,” I say, and I play with my necklace. “I’ve just never seen you without a shirt on, and it’s revolting.” “Tell that to the tongue hanging out of your mouth,” he jokes. “I’m making pancakes. What kind do you want? Regular? Chocolate chip? Blueberry?” I walk toward him and nudge him out of the way with my hip. “I’ll have whatever you all are having, which looks like chocolate chip. Perfect. Where’s June?” “Cleaning up her stuffed animals. We had a tea party yesterday, and the collection of bears and giraffes didn’t get put away.” “That explains the tiara then.” Dallas shrugs. He leans against the counter and faces me. “It makes her happy.”

“You’re a good man and a good father,” I say softly, and he watches me. “And if you want to fire me, I understand. You’re doing what’s best for your daughter, and I don’t hold that against you at all.” “Fire you?” Dallas takes a step toward me. “What the hell are you talking about?” “I don’t know. Your text was vague, and I thought maybe you wanted to part ways.” “Maven.” He sets down the spatula he’s holding and puts his hands on my shoulders. “Why would I fire you? You’re the good part of all of my days. June’s days, too. I’m being vague because I have a surprise for JB, and I want you to come along, too.” “You do?”

“Yeah.” His laugh is soft and shy, and he dips his chin. “If you thought I was going to fire you, I need to do a better job of showing you how much I like you being here.” “No, it’s not that. I just…” I bite my bottom lip and reach out, tugging one of the strings of his apron. “Being here with you and June is so fun, and we’re normally open with each other about things that are going on in her life and ours. I mean, I told you my period cramps were going to make me late last week, and you didn’t even bat an eye.” “I grew up with a sister, remember? I bought a heating pad, by the way. For you to use if you’re ever here and in pain. It’s in the guest room bathroom with some Advil.” “Oh. That is—thank you, Dallas. You didn’t have to do that.” “Have to and want to are two different things, Maven, and I wanted to do it because I want you to be comfortable when you’re here. Shawn was nice enough to give us today off from practice, too, so I figured the three of us could take advantage of the time off.” “That sounds fun. I’m sorry for assuming the worst. That was shitty of me.” “You’re forgiven.” He gives my arm a squeeze. “I’m not going to tell you where we’re going, but I will say you need to take off your jewelry. I know how much you love that necklace, and leaving it on puts it at risk of getting ruined.” I touch the gold chain around my neck, aware that he’s noticed I never go anywhere without it. “Want me to grab June?” “Please. We’ll eat, get her ready then head out.” “We ...

“No, Maven.” His smile curls into something different. Secretive, almost, and I want to know what he’s thinking. ...

“A splatter paint room?” I ask, and I look around the lobby of the building Dallas led us into twenty minutes ago. “How does it work?” “It’s easy. We throw paint wherever we want. On the canvas. At each other. You can use your hands or the brushes. It’s supposed to be a fun stress reliever.” Dallas kneels down and helps June step into the provided jumpsuit we’re all wearing to cover our clothes. “JB. You aren’t allowed to eat the paint okay? It’ll make you sick.” “Okay, Daddy,” June agrees. “This might be the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” I say. “Way better than getting fired, right?” he teases, and I roll my eyes. “Only marginally.” I braid my hair into two pigtails and throw on the hat Dallas gave me to wear. “Do I get points if I get paint on your face?” “No paint on my face. I have a game on Sunday. What if I can’t see to kick because there’s blue acrylic in my eye? We’d lose, and my career would be over.” “You’ve missed kicks before, buddy. And that’s what these are for. To protect your pretty eyes.” I grab three pairs of goggles hanging from a rack on the wall and toss two his way. “All bets are off when we go in there. The paint room is a lawless space, and I will kick your butt.”

“If you throw paint at my face, Maven, you better be prepared for the consequences.” “Don’t tempt me with a good time. You’re going down, Lansfield. Right, June? We’re going to get your dad.” “Yes!” she squeals, and I grin.

“Daddy, look.” June points to a splatter of red on the wall. “It’s messy.” “Very messy,” Dallas says, and he leads us over to a long table covered in dried paint. “And you know what the best part is? There are no rules.” “No rules?” she asks. “I can run?” “You can run wherever you want, JB.” “Gonna get you, Daddy.” June stands on her toes and grabs a brush off the table. She dips it in the can of pink and swirls it around. Satisfied with how it looks, she pulls it out and flings it at him, giggling when it goes all over the jumpsuit covering his legs. “I did it!” I pick up a brush and dip it in the green. I bring my wrist back and throw it at Dallas. The color lands on his chest, and I grin. “Got you, Daddy. You look like a watermelon.” “Christ,” he mumbles. He blows out a breath and finds the largest brush on the table. “Y’all are in for it now.”

“Run, June.” I pick her up and sprint across the room. Her giggles echo in my ear, and soon I’m laughing, too. I feel a twinge of pain in my knee and my heart pounds in my ears, but I keep moving. “We can’t let him get us.” “Closer,” June squeals. I duck behind a tall canvas sitting on a wooden easel just as Dallas launches the brush covered in yellow at us. He misses hitting us, but a drop gets on June’s ankle. “You snooze, you lose, Lansfield,” I say, and we take off toward the other side of the room. “Damn, Maven, I didn’t realize you were this quick,” he says, and it adds a pep to my step.

“Now, JB,” I say, and we attack. Paint from all five brushes hit him at once, and I pump my fist in the air. “Nice job, kid.” “I got Daddy,” June says, and I give her a high five. “Colluding with the toddler gives you an unfair advantage,” he says, and he wipes a glob of purple from his cheek. “Put her down, and let’s settle this fairly as adults.”

“Rules?” “We start at opposite ends. June says go. First one to the table and first to get paint on the other wins,” Dallas says, and I nod. “You’re on.”

“Wait,” he calls out from across the room. “What about your knee?” “What about it?” “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” “Oh, no. You don’t get to start with the nice guy act now. My knee is fine. It’s thirty feet away, and I’m not fragile. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, and it’s genuine. Considerate and kind with sweetness lacing the question, and it’s embarrassing how easily I almost melt. “Yes,” I say, but my voice wavers. “Good. Then I won’t feel so bad when I kick your ass.” “Kick ass,” June repeats, and it echoes around us. “Way to go, Dallas,” I say, and he rubs his forehead.

“No, sweetie. That’s a bad word, and Daddy shouldn’t have said it. I take it back,” he says. “No cursing allowed.” “Are we doing this or not, Lansfield?” I ask. He rolls his shoulders back and crouches down. It looks like he’s about to snap a football. His eyes stay trained on me, and his wicked smile makes heat pool deep in my belly. “June, can you count down from three for us? Then say go.” “Okay, Daddy.” June holds her arm above her head. “Three, two, one, go,” she yells, and I take off.

The table flips over. Dallas goes tumbling with it, somersaulting in the air. Cans go flying. Brushes fall from the sky like rain. I’m knocked on my back, and there’s a rainbow of color in my vision. “Oof,” I get out. Something heavy rests on my chest, and when I open my eyes, all I can see is green. “Am I blind?” “Holy shit,” Dallas wheezes. “That did not go as planned.” “I can see why we signed waivers beforehand.” “Are you okay?” I pull the goggles off and realize the weight I’m feeling is him. On top of me. Paint drips from his cheek and his hair. His hips press into mine, and his hands are on either side of my head, holding himself up so he doesn’t squash me. “What the hell happened?” I ask. “I might have run into the table,” he admits sheepishly. “In my defense, I thought it was sturdier than that.” “In the table’s defense, you’re a one hundred and ninety pound football player,” I counter, and his chest rumbles with laughter. We’re so close, that when he drops his forehead, it rests against mine. The paint on his skin fuses us together, and I wonder if we’re going to be stuck like this forever. “Sorry, I—” he starts to say. “No, that’s okay. I’m⁠—” We move at the same time. I lift my hips to try and roll away just as he pushes down, and I feel him between my legs. Thick, long. Half-hard and pressing against the inside of my thigh. My breath catches and my back arches, some subconscious part of me aching to be closer to him.

“Sorry,” he says again, softer this time. It doesn’t sound much like an apology, and I wouldn’t accept it if it was. “My fault,” I whisper back, but neither of us move. He’s pinning me to the ground. His large body cages mine, and until he releases me, I’m stuck here. But I’m in no hurry to leave. Everything in me pulls tight and turns to liquid heat as I relax into him. I hear his staggered breathing. I feel his exhales on my face. I smell his cologne, and I wonder what he would taste like if I ran my tongue up the line of his throat.

“Daddy,” June says, and we both whip our heads to the side. “Smoochy kiss.” “Oh, no, June Bug,” Dallas says hurriedly. He tries to get off me now, but my leg is hooked around his thigh and his hand is tangled in one of my braids. “We’re not⁠—” “Mae Mae is hurt,” she says with the stomp of her foot. “Kiss and make it better.” “She’s not going to stop,” he mumbles. “Maybe I should just…” I nod, vaguely aware of my surroundings. I bite my bottom lip as our eyes meet. “It’s okay. You, uh, can.” His attention moves to my mouth, and he lets out a soft sound that’s reminiscent of a tortured moan. “Forehead?” “Sure,” I say, a little breathless. It feels like I’m floating, walking on the clouds toward something I can’t quite see yet. “That’s good.”

He hums. The hand in my hair moves down and cups my cheek with alarming care. He tips his chin down, and his lips dance over my forehead. It’s faint. Hardly long enough to be considered a kiss in the first place, but there’s still bursts of color when he pulls away. When his eyes dance across my face and his smile hooks up on the right side of his mouth, pleased with what he sees, my cheeks burn as hot as the sun. “Not just good,” he murmurs, and his voice is deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “Fucking perfect.” I have to get out of this position before I combust. “Yay,” June says. I look up and see her holding a half-full can of paint. “I win.” Before I can register what’s happening, she dumps what’s left of the blue on us and drenches our heads. I cackle. I laugh so hard tears prick my eyes and my lungs gasp for air. “Oh my god. She’s so smart.” “June Marigold Lansfield,” Dallas says. He pushes off of me and rolls onto his back, grabbing his daughter by the waist and lifting her in the air with one arm. She squeals with glee, and I love that sound. “You are in big trouble.” “Sorry, Daddy. I said I win.” “You definitely win, JB,” I say, and I stretch my arm out to my side. My fingers brush against Dallas’s free hand, and when I go to pull away, his pinky hooks around mine, keeping me in place. “Can’t argue with that,” he says. “Except there’s not any paint on you, and that’s not fair.”

“Can we get ice cream?” she asks. “Ice cream sounds delicious,” I say. “It’s not even eleven.” Dallas turns his head to glance at me, and he looks younger than he has in the month I’ve been working for him. His smile is wider. His eyes are brighter. There’s a lightness to him, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “You’re not going to back me up on this, are you?” “You manhandled me to the floor. I’m siding with June on this one, dude.” “Fine.” He stands up and lifts June with him. When he’s on two feet, he offers me a hand, and I accept it, standing too. “Ice cream it is.” “Thanks,” I say. “Are we good? After…” he gestures to my face. “Yeah. Totally good.” “Okay. Good.” “Good,” I agree.

My head is on a swivel as I sort through the security guards, the physical trainers and medical staff setting up shop on the sidelines before I find who I’m looking for. There she is. Blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail and covered by a navy-blue hat. A white Titans polo and khaki pants that hug her legs damn well. A camera around her neck and an awed look on her face. I jog toward Maven and stick my tongue out when she takes a picture of me. “Photo of the game right there,” she yells over the crowd.

“Hey,” I say, and I pull her into a side hug. She’s warm from the afternoon sun, and I tap her shoulder twice before letting go. “How’s it going?” “This is nothing like the preseason games. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little overwhelmed.” “Only a little? Pretty sure I almost shit myself my first game,” I say, and she bursts out laughing. “Coach had to literally drag me from the bathroom.” “It’s a bummer that wasn’t included in the Cosmo article about your hair flipping. The women would be flocking to you,” she jokes. “I don’t need any more women. I’m pretty busy with the two I have in my life.” “Oh?” Maven asks, and I have to lean in closer to hear her. “Are you?” “Between you attacking me with paint and June always six seconds away from running into the coffee table in the living room, I’m closer to a heart attack than I was last year,” I say. “That might be true, but you’re forgetting something.” “And what’s that?” She stands on her toes and cups her hand around my helmet. “You’re also happier than you were a year ago.” “So much happier. Speaking of, I have something for you.” I step back and pull out the paper I tucked in my pants. “Is it your grabbable dick? Dammit, Lansfield, we’re in public.” “Nope. Smaller. Much smaller,” I say, and I hand her the note. “It’s from June.” “Is it?” Her fingers brush against mine when she takes the paper, and I watch her carefully unfold the square. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

I smile at the three stick figures. It’s a loose interpretation of the three of us from the eyes of a preschooler. There’s a sun in the upper right corner and a bunch of different colored scribbles that take over the rest of the page. JB asked me to write a message across the center: HAVE A GOOD FIRST GAME, MAE MAE. With a little pink heart under it done by June herself. “She worked very hard on it.” “The penmanship is impeccable and her spelling is top notch.” Maven folds the note back up and slips it in her pocket. She tips her chin up and beams at me. “This is so sweet. Thank you.” “I was also tasked with inviting you over for pizza after the game. Please don’t feel obligated to say yes. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with us, and I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of your time or anything like that.” “Of course I’ll be there. There’s free food—if anything, I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.” Her attention drifts across the field. She brings her camera up and presses the shutter button. After snapping a couple pictures, she admires the shots with a soft, proud smile. “Are you ready for today? The Renegades are good.” “Very good. We’l...

“Thanks.” I check the scoreboard and see there’s only thirty minutes until kickoff. “I better get going. It’s my first season as a thirty-year-old, and I need to make sure I’m limber.” “Limber.” Maven laughs, and the sound is warmer than the sunshine hitting my face. “We can’t have you pulling a hamstring. I’d never stop giving you shit.” “I can always count on you.” I knock the brim of her hat and she swats at my hand. “Have fun today, Maven. I can’t wait to see all the photos you take of the team over sausage and olive pizza when we’re back at the apartment.” “Sausage and olive? That’s my favorite.” “I know it is. Why do you think I order it every time?” She holds up her camera so it’s inches away from my face. This time I grin, and she snaps another photo. “You order my favorite pizza?” “Duh. I can’t have people who work for me not eating their favorite foods. That’ll earn me a bad review on GlassDoor. Under accommodations you’ll put: forces me to eat pepperoni pizza. Zero out of ten, would not recommend working here.” “Oh, people who work for you? Is that all I am?” “All you are? No. You’re also my friend. And I like to take care of my friends, which includes ordering their ...

“Doubtful. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I call out over my shoulder, and she smiles from ear to ear.

“Maybe you should just move in here.” I burst out laughing. “Very funny.” “What? I’m serious.”

“What are you talking about, Dallas?” He walks around the island and takes the seat next to me. “I didn’t think about the logistics when I asked for your help. Now I see how much time you waste going between my place and yours, and I feel bad. You sit in traffic for an hour and a half every day. That’s absurd.” “Don’t feel bad. That comes with living in the city, and I knew it would be a commute when I said yes.” I turn and face him. My knees fit between his parted thighs, and I study his face. “Are you fucking with me about moving in?” “I’m not. I swear. Come live with us, Maven.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t afford it. Your rent is probably five times what I pay.” “Who said anything about paying?” Dallas asks, and the right corner of his mouth turns down. “I wouldn’t make you pay to live here.” “Absolutely not.” I try to spin away, but he reaches out and stops me. His large hand curls around the seat so I can’t move, and I huff. “That’s not fair at all.” “Forget the rent for a second. Would you ever consider moving in?” “Yes, but I would never want you to feel like you couldn’t relax in your own home. If I’m here, that might make it difficult for you.” “You’re going to have to give me more context than that, Maven. Are you going to play the drums at midnight or something?” “No.” I blow out a breath and wring my hands together. “I just… I can’t help but notice there aren’t a lot of women in your life.” “No,” he says slowly with a raised eyebrow. “There aren’t.” “I didn’t know if that was because—” I swallow and look anywhere but his face. “If it was by choice.” “It is by choice. I don’t date.” My gaze cuts back over to him. “You don’t?” “No.” “Why not?” “I don’t have any time, and I have a lot on my plate with June. I’m still figuring this parenting thing out, and I don’t want her to ever feel like she’s second to someone else.” “That… that’s a good reason.” I bob my head up and down, and I swear he smirks. “Do you do… other things?”

“Are you asking if I fuck people, Maven?” he says with a low voice. “Yes,” I squeak out, and this is not the direction I thought our conversation would go. “I don’t do that, either. Also by choice.” “Interesting.” “You sound disappointed.”

“I’m indifferent,” I say. “I’m very particular with the people I let get close to me. Women especially. But if you moved in, I wouldn’t feel like I had to sleep with my door locked. I trust you.” His voice turns gentle, the ebb of the tide as it pulls back to sea. “You’re the first person I’ve felt comfortable with in a long time. Ever, maybe. I can be myself with you and… that’s the best kind of friend I could ever want. Why wouldn’t I want you around more?”

“Oh,” I whisper, and the gravity of his words hit me square in the chest. “You’ve become a friend of mine too. I hope you know that.” “I do, and I’m lucky. June loves you. She’s happier when you’re here, and so am I. It can be fucking lonely being a single parent. I’ve got Reid and Maverick, but they’re young and single, and as much as they love JB, I know they don’t want to sit here every night watching Bluey. Most of the other guys my age on the team are out partying

during the week. Going to the strip club after a game and getting dozens of numbers.” “And that’s not something you’re interested in?” I ask, and a rush of heat climbs up my chest. “I can’t have that life anymore. I don’t want it, either. I like coming home and hanging out with y’all. I like when you try to cook dinner before giving up and ordering takeout. I like having someone besides a four-year-old to have a conversation with over a meal. And, do you want to know the best part?” he asks, and he leans in a little closer. “What’s that?” I ask. “You haven’t tried to take a picture of my dick yet.” “Stop.” I choke on another laugh. “Someone’s done that?” “Yup. Mid-shower. Thank god the glass was fogged up, or I’d probably be on some Reddit thread that asked people to rate the size from one to ten.” “How would you rate the size?” “I don’t know. I haven’t taken out a ruler recently to measure.”

“Are you sure you want me to be your roommate?”

a cent either.” “But I⁠—” “Don’t argue with me, Maven, because you’re not going to win. I don’t want your money, and that’s final.” “What about your routines? Your schedule? I’d hate to be the extra person who throws a wrench in your plans.” “You’re part of those routines. You spend all day here when I’m at practice. You ride with us to games and help put June to bed while I’m cleaning the dirt and grass off of me. We’d—I’d—love if you were here full time.”

“If I say yes, I think we need some rules,” I say, and he nods for me to continue. “If anything starts to feel weird, I want us to take a step back. I want us to be honest with each other and openly communicate. I really like our friendship, Dallas, and I don’t want to mess that up because I forget to do the dishes and you don’t like it.” “Deal. What else?”

“Um.” I rub my thumb across my neck, wishing I had my necklace to play with. I lost it after taking it off for the paint room, and I haven’t found it yet. “This next part might be awkward, but it needs to be said.” He grins and rests his elbow on the island. “Go on.” “We’re living together as friends, not as…” I clear my throat. “Not as a couple. We’re both single, but we need to be aware of our surroundings. I like my job with you, and I like my job with the Titans. I don’t want to compromise either just because⁠—” “We’re in close quarters?” Dallas finishes for me, and I nod. “We’re adults. We can find each other attractive without acting on it even if we see one another in a towel by accident. This is platonic. Another part of our business relationship, because now you’re saving yourself time and energy.” “What about having people over? Do we need a code phrase for when we’re bringing home a… a friend?” “I’m assuming your definition of friend in this scenario is not the kind of friends we are.” He pauses and rubs his jaw. “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, Maven, but I’m not comfortable having men I don’t know in the apartment. Especially when I’m not here. If you want to do things with people, I’m going to politely ask for you to not do them under my roof.” My cheeks burn, and I wish I could hide my face. “I would never. I just didn’t want to invade your space if you were… I don’t know. Looking for a release at the hands of another person.” “The only guest...

any compromising positions. And you’re obviously free to do what you like, just maybe not around me and June.” “June is my responsibility,” I say. “That doesn’t change if I move in, and I won’t take advantage of your space by using it as a… a pleasure den.” “Our space,” he says, correcting me, and I nod. “And please never say pleasure den again. Sounds like we belong in a horrible porno from the seventies.” “Right.” I laugh. “Our space. Thank you. It’s kind of you to offer your extra room to me.” “Don’t mention it.” He reaches out and ruffles my hair. “I better get going, roomie.” “That sounds so weird.” I laugh and spin on the stool so he can jump off. “When should I move in?” “Whenever you want.” “Is the end of this week too soon?” “Nope.” Dallas scoops up his pile of food and grins. “And I think we can agree to keep this betwee...

I move to her jersey—my jersey—that’s tied above her waist. The light blue makes her skin look tan and soft, and I like how my number stretches across her tits and shows off even more of her figure. Her blonde hair is in a high ponytail, pulled back so I can see that spot on her neck I want to run my tongue up. The smile she’s wearing nearly sends me into cardiac arrest, and I remember we have an audience. “God damn,” Justin murmurs, and I glance at him. He’s watching Maven too, and irritation flashes through me. “She’s fucking hot.” “No comment.” “Fuck you, Dal. You’re staring at her like you’re in the desert and she’s a glass of water.” “I am not.” “Wanna bet? Hey, Maven,” Justin calls out, and she waves. “Can I see the back of your jersey?” “Oh, this old thing?” She turns around and walks toward us backward. Her hips sway from side to side, and it should be illegal for me to stare at her for this long. “What do you think?” I think my time of death is going to be just before 11 a.m. in the middle of a fucking football field. There’s my last name stretched boldly across her shoulders like it’s hers, too. There’s her round ass, covered by tight leather. There’s the back of her neck, a few strands of hair sticking to her skin. Christ. I need someone to revive me. “It’s nice. What do you think, Dallas?” Justin asks, and he elbows my side.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. Nice,” I repeat, and I wonder if I have those cartoon hearts in my eyes.

Maven spins back around and grins. “Thanks, guys.” “What are you doing here?” I ask, and I pick up June. “I thought y’all would be in the suite.” “We’ll get up there eventually. I wanted to surprise you and let you have a minute with June before the game starts, so Shawn got us field access for warmups.”

I learned mine are acts of service and quality time, and the guys all made fun of me. They joked that there are plenty of places out there where I can get whatever kind of service I want. But this is exactly the kind of gesture that sends my heart racing. Someone showing up and doing something with me and for me. Giving up their time to do something that might seem small to them, but it’s a mountain to me. I didn’t think holding my daughter in my arms on a football field two hours before kickoff would be the nicest thing anyone’s made happen for me, but it is. And it’s because of her. I cover June’s ears and exhale. “Fuck, Maven. This is⁠—” “What you deserve, and what’s going to keep happening as long as I’m around.” She pulls something out of her pocket and smiles as she waves a sheet of paper in the air. “I’m getting all the guys to sign her ticket, too. I figured you could frame it and hang it in her room.” I squeeze June to my chest and shake my head. The more she talks, the harder it gets to breathe. “She’s lucky to have you in her life. I’m lucky, too. I’m going to get you the biggest Nanny of the Year trophy for Christmas.” “Let’s get a photo,” she says, and she slides up next to me. I drape my arm around her and she rests her head in the crook of my shoulder as she pulls out her phone. “I’ll photoshop the trophy in.” “Say cheese, JB.” “Cheese!” she shrieks, and Maven takes the picture of the three of us when we’re mid-laugh. “That’s going to be a keeper,” I say.

“Without a doubt.” She tucks her phone away and looks up at me. “You know you always miss your first kick in warmups, right?” “What?” I follow her line of sight and stare at the ball leaning against the goal post. “No, I don’t.” “Yes, you do. You always come up short, and you favor the right side.” “Are you watching me, Maven?” “You warm up five feet away from where I’m doing my job,” she argues. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m watching you.” “You’re watching me though, aren’t you, Maven?” Justin asks innocently. “I definitely am,” she says, and I hear the teasing tone in her voice. “You’re my favorite guy on the team, Justin.” “Shucks. You’re my favorite photographer,” Justin says. The fucker has the balls to blush at her compliment, and I glare at him. “Daddy kick the ball?” June asks, interrupting their flirting, and I’m grateful for her. “I sure am, baby girl. Do you want to watch?” “I want to kick,” she says, and I set her back on the grass. She takes off toward the ball, giggling the whole way. “Take a break for a few, Maven. I’ll watch her,” Justin says, and he winks at me as he chases after June. “Nice jersey,” I say to Maven when we’re alone. “I stole it from your closet,” she admits. “I ordered the little one for June, but mine got delayed. I had to improvise.” “Always quick on your feet.” I toss a ball to her and she catches it, taking a few steps back. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m sure the suite is going to be nice, but it’s way more fun being down in the action. Plus, June can work out some of her energy before we try to sit for four quarters.” “How was y’all’s morning?” “Great. We had breakfast, then we did a walk around the hotel before heading over. JB won’t stop talking about how she gets to see Daddy play today to anyone who will listen, including our server at the pancake house. I tipped fifty percent because June wouldn’t let her get back to work.” “That’s June for you. She wants to be friends with everyone. Darcy made sure there are noise canceling headphones in the suite in case the game gets overstimulating. There’s also going to be plenty of ranch dressing so you can dip your sliders. I swear, you’re the only one who likes that shit.” Maven freezes. Her arm is pulled back, about to throw the ball to me, and she blinks. “You asked for extra ranch?” “Yeah. We filled out a sheet with food preferences, and I made sure to include it. It’s no big deal, and it’s not like I didn’t already pay for the suite. The least they can do is add some additional condiments.” “How did you know I love ranch?” “You use it...

“Good.” My teammates start to file on the field, and I glance over my shoulder. “I should get back to it.” “We’re going to hang out on the sidelines for a bit,” she says. “We won’t be in your way, will we?” “You’re never in my way, Maven.” “Let me go grab JB before someone mistakes her for a moving target. It would be really shitty to start the afternoon off with her getting knocked in the head with a ball.” “Eh, builds character. Y’all have fun today.” “You too, Dallas. Have a good game.” Maven brushes past me. She heads for the end zone and gives me another view of her ass. I reach out and wrap my fingers around her wrist, stopping her before she can get any further away. “You should know, Mae, since you’re wearing my jersey, it’s yours for the rest of the season,” I say lowly, and she lifts an eyebrow, intrigued. “Is that so?” she asks, and I rub my thumb across her pulse point. Her breath catches, and she looks down at where we’re joined. “I didn’t realize there were jersey wearing rules.” “I’m making my own rules. If you put on another guy’s jersey, I’m going to have to take it off of you.” “That sounds like it could be fun.” Her eyes twinkle, and she smirks. “I’ve always l...

“God, Maven. You’d make anything look perfect.” I’m hard. My dick throbs, heavy and aching, and it takes every ounce of the control I’ve spent years perfecting to not touch myself while she watches. “So much for not kissing,” she teases. “You make it very fucking difficult to follow the rules.” “I’m sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No, I’m not.” She gestures to the front of my briefs, and everything inside me burns hot and wild. “Are you going to do something about that?” “Yeah. Die a slow death while I think about you with tattoos on your body. While I think about you in general, honestly.” “I’ve always wanted to be someone’s muse.” Her palm moves from my hair to my cheek, and she rubs her thumb along the line of my jaw. “Am I allowed to tell you that I’m glad we found ourselves in this position? Am I allowed to tell you I’ve been thinking about you less as a friend and more as someone…” Maven trails off, and the sentence hangs in the air.

“Yes,” I say. I turn my cheek and press my mouth to the center of her palm. I savor the breathy exhale she lets out when I do it again. “I’m thinking it, too.”

“I should…” I slowly climb off her and sit on the other end of the couch. I’m still hard, and it’s impossible to take my eyes off of her. “You’re so beautiful, Mae. And I don’t just mean like this.” I gesture up and down her body. “I mean all the time.” She sits up and fixes her bra, sliding the strap back up her shoulder. “So are you. I feel lucky that I get to see these sides of you, Dallas. You’re perfect.” “I’m far from perfect.” I pull up my sweatpants and adjust myself. “But I’m glad you’re the one I can show those imperfect parts to.” “Should we make drinking and shedding our clothes a weekly thing?” Maven asks. “Or are we pretending this never happened?” “We probably shouldn’t make it a weekly thing, but I’m sure as hell not going to forget about it anytime soon.” “Good.” Her eyes move from my chest to my stomach then further down. “I’m not, either.” “I don’t want to be the one to walk away, because I don’t want you to think I’m walking away from you. But the longer I look at you, the less I trust myself to behave. So I’m going to get up and go to bed. I think you should too.”

She hums and stands from the couch, towering over me. I lift my chin to look at her, and she smiles, a dangerous, sensual thing. “Whatever you say, Daddy. Good night.” I bite my fist when she walks away, and whatever strand of self-restraint I have left just got even shorter.

Dallas fumbles with something under the collar of his jersey. There’s a flash of gold and I watch as he pulls out a necklace—my necklace. The one I thought I lost two months ago and gave up trying to find. He’s wearing it without a care in the world, and something about his smug confidence tells me he’s had it in his possession for a very long time. “Seems like I have a good luck charm with me,” he says, rough and low. He holds up the M and keeps his eyes on me as he kisses the letter then runs his tongue over the chain. It feels like he’s running his tongue over me and the places of my body I desperately want him to touch. “I think I’m going to wear it every game.” Holy shit. I reach out and graze my fingers over the jewelry. I give it a soft yank and he careens forward, nearly stumbling into me with a breathy laugh I feel deep in my stomach. His eyes gleam with delight as he stares at where my fingers press into the hollow of his throat. “It looks better on you than it does on me,” I tease. “Impossible. You look good in everything.” “Yeah, but you—” I snap my mouth shut. You look like the man of my dreams. “Are you going to finish that sentence?” he asks, and I bite my bottom lip. His eyes drop to my mouth and hold, a flash of heat sparking across the brown of his irises.