The Exception

by Mickey Miller

He likes to give her the appearance of independence while later instilling in me the fear of God.

I have no idea where time goes when I’m kissing Reagan McKinley. I think a gnome steals it.

Dallas runs to the sidelines, taking off his helmet to squeeze water over his head. The camera on the big screen zooms in on his face. With the camera on him, he gives an expression that’s not exactly a smile but definitely isn’t angry or nervous, and he winks.

“Holy shit. Did Dallas Connelly just fucking wink?” Ty barks. “He’s winking when he’s down four in the fourth quarter!

but I swear Dallas mouths, For you, Reagan.

But I can feel it. Everyone in the entire stadium can feel it.

“Right. Well, is there anyone you’d like to dedicate this game to?” He grins. “You know who you are. Thanks for the extra motivation.” And then, he puckers his lips to the camera.

OMG I LOVE HIM

Dallas holds up a hand that shows his newly adorned third Super Bowl ring.

this is so attractive for no reason

He leans in closer and whispers, “You know, Miss McKinley, I’m still single.

He smirks, and his eyes flit to my left hand. “So it’s the fourth quarter and I’m behind. Well guess what? I don’t see any ring on that finger.

all kinds of flustered

“I’m saying I don’t like you, Dallas. You know why. And three minutes of sweet talk in the locker room aren’t going to change that.

“This seating arrangement. Of all the seats in the world, of all the flights, how on earth am I seated next to you?”

He leans in and lowers his voice to a growly whisper. “Right. We definitely don’t want to talk about the summer when we were eighteen and what we used to do in my truck

Talking about how hard you came and how your eyes rolled up in the back of your head when you had your first orgasm—ever—on my big we shall-not-talk-about-it is definitely off limits.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to slap you.” “Mmm. I do enjoy that, coming from you. Less talking. More slapping. I like that.”

As he slips his hand away from my wrist, I notice he was holding his thumb on a vein on my wrist. Was he taking my pulse?

why am I in love with this man

“She was the first woman I ever fell in love with.”

I had loved her the only way I knew back then—with my whole heart.

Just great. Dallas Connelly is literally haunting my dreams.

“Hey, sorry to hear about you being single,” Vince says. “Yeah, me too,” Dallas echoes, his hand on the small of my back.

She’s the one who got away,

With Reagan, I admit, I’ll take whatever scraps of attention she’ll give me.

I opt not to mention to the table that I, in fact, knew Reagan well before she had great tits and still liked her.

During the rest of dinner, Reagan and I play a little game called keep checking each other out shamelessly.

I love you, Reagan. I’ve been thinking about that. I thought you should know.”

I loved him, and I was doing this for him, but I couldn’t tell him.

“I want you so fucking bad, Reagan,”

Because I fucking love touching you, Rea, baby.

“There is one huge free agent who has gone unsigned. Two, actually. I mean, they’re long shots, but we might as well cover all of our bases.” I tap my pen on my notepad. “Who?” “Vince Nelson and Dallas Connelly.”

“And he wants a meeting in thirty minutes. He has specifically asked for you to be there. Are you free?”

But I also don’t want to get her all riled up by telling her that there is one big, pretty variable mixed in with my decision to come to Chicago other than the fact that Aunt Amber lives here.

Let’s just say said variable’s name rhymes with Fagan RickRinley, and she may or may not be the general manager for Chicago football.

I wish I could let go of Reagan. I’ve wished it for twelve years. God knows, my life would be easier if I just let the idea of Reagan and me die. But I can’t.

“So, how does it work now that you’re a general manager, by the way? Am I allowed to say you look sexy in a skirt?”

“See you tonight, Miss McKinley,” Dallas says. And there’s no denying the shit-eating grin he’s trying to hide.

“Who told you to wear the sexiest dress you had in your wardrobe?” She doesn’t flinch. “Dallas, please.” “Please what? Please continue? Okay.

I know she’s got it as bad as I do.

“Are you ovulating?” “Dallas!” She almost chokes on her drink. “What does that have to do with anything?” I shrug. “You’re extra red today.

the fact that he knows this I-

My lips press into hers. She wraps her arms around me and even grabs my butt. Doesn’t want me, my ass.

If Reagan thinks she can make a man like Dallas Connelly just disappear from her life, she’s got a big surprise coming.

Nathan gives us a confused look. “Dallas Connelly is . . . your boyfriend?” “Soon.” Dallas winks.

“And when I touch you, you feel nothing?” “Nothing,” I choke out. A lie.

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

“There’s something going on with you, Reagan,” he says, lips brushing against my ear. “And I intend to find out what that is.”

“You don’t know?” Frank says, then nods in the direction of the lake. “It’s Dallas Connelly’s new place.” I feel my palms clam up. Are you effing kidding me?

“Get a room, you two,” I tell them. “Seriously?” Vince asks. “Do you have a room?”

clearly putting herself in the running for ‘hottest general manager of all time’.

Fuck him for knowing just how I like it.

Your heart is mine and you know it.”

“Don’t think. Stop thinking. You’re done thinking.