“You look nice,” Tatum said quietly as he towered over me. He filled up a paper cup with coffee and took a sip, obscuring his mouth. I looked down at the dress I had pulled for today. It was my go-to Reds event dress. A scarlet sheath dress with a modest neck and hemline. I threw on a pearl necklace and earrings and slipped into my black pumps. My knee was still giving me hell after the game—and the tackle—yesterday. Luckily, the flesh-toned kinesio tape holding me together was hidden under the hem. “Thank you,” I said into my bagel. The bread hid my smile as I added, “Your ass looks fantastic
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