I KNOCK on the door to Shawn’s apartment, and my heart hammers in my chest. I think about turning around and walking away, but suddenly he’s there, in front of me, and I can’t remember my name.
He looks good. Really good. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower, and his skin is tinged pink. A dark pair of jeans sits low on his hips, and his white shirt stretches across his broad chest. I can see his whole sleeve of tattoos, and he’s barefoot. I smile at the nail polish on his toes.
“Going for a new look?” I ask.
Shawn leans against the door frame with a lazy grace. “Maven was trying out polish colors. I was the guinea pig.”
“I like the pink.”
“Really? I’m partial to the purple.”
I laugh and hand over a bottle of wine. “Here. For you. For us, I guess.”
“Thanks, Lace. Come in.” He gestures me inside, and I step into his apartment.
I’ve been here once or twice—like the night I came over and proposed this whole scheme to him—but I didn’t have a chance to really look around. It’s an open concept layout, with high ceilings and gigantic windows. Sleek and modern, I see touches of personality throughout the space. In the pictures on the wall. The throw blankets on the couch. A plush rug in the living room. It’s inviting and welcoming, and I relax as I walk into the kitchen.
There are pots on the stove. Something is cooking in the oven, and a delicious aroma wafts through the air. Placemats are set up on the island with two barstools, and wine glasses sit on the marble counter.
This man is not your typical bachelor.
“How can I help?” I ask.
“You can pour yourself a drink and take a seat,” Shawn says. He maneuvers around me and taps my hip as he passes. A spark runs through my body with the press of his fingers. “How was the rest of your work day?”
“Good. Uneventful. The kids were disappointed to get a shot from me after you gave them free admission to the weekend camp in January. Thank you for that,” I say. I slide onto a stool, and my legs swing back and forth. “That was very kind of you.”
“Don’t mention it. I try to hand out as many vouchers as I can to kids in the community. The revenue and finance departments might hate me, but I don’t care.” Shawn bends over the stove and stirs the pot. “Need a wine opener?”
“Yes, please.”
“Top drawer on your right.”
I lean over and rifle through a collection of scissors and other odds and ends. “Not hiding anything shady in here, are you?”
“Like I’d put all my weird shit out in plain sight,” he laughs. “That’s what my bedroom is for.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’ll go snoop.”
“Snoop away. What’s mine is yours, frog legs.”
I throw the wine cork at him and pour myself a glass. “Would you like some?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“To the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had,” I say, and Shawn grins.
“To the most beautiful fake girlfriend in the world,” he answers, and I blush.
“Stop. You pretended to date that musician. She’s gorgeous.”
“So? I said what I said. Most beautiful.” He knocks his drink against mine, and we take a sip in tandem. “Wow. That’s good.”
“It’s from the liquor store up the road. I got it for twenty bucks.”
“Impressive.” He takes another sip and moves back to the stove. “Doing anything fun this weekend?”
“Maggie and I are going to try to get together. You leave for California soon, don’t you?”
“Thursday. We kickoff around one in the afternoon west coast time on Sunday, then we’ll fly back home that night. We’re playing the worst team in the league, but I don’t want to let our guard down.”
“You’ll be fine,” I say. “Do you like road games?”
“Seeing different cities is fun, but I enjoy being home. It’s not even like I have something waiting for me here like some of the other guys.” He pulls a pan out of the oven and sets it on a hot pad. He turns to face me and leans against the counter. “It’s just nice to sleep in my own bed. To be in my own space.”
“I understand. Well, I don’t really understand, but I know what you mean. Whenever I have a medical conference or I’m out of town, it’s fun for a day or two. Then I’m counting down the minutes until I can be back where I feel safe and secure.” I smile. “And, hey. You do have things waiting for you here. You have Maggie and Aiden and Maven. And you have me. We’re friends. Best friends,” I add. “You’re not alone. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” he says. Our gazes meet, and we stare at each other. “I do know that.”
“Good. Do you want to continue this heart-to-heart, or can we eat first?”
“Food. We don’t have much time before the familial discussion begins. Maybe we can show up drunk,” he suggests. “That would be a hoot.”
HALF AN HOUR LATER, I’m full.
We pile our dirty dishes in the sink, and Shawn waves me off when I try to offer to wash them. He pulls me to the couch in his living room and hands me a blanket.
“Am I—do I—should we touch each other?” I blurt out. “Keep our hands to ourselves?”
“If you wanted an excuse to touch me, Daniels, you could’ve just asked,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “Sit close to me. Like you love me so much, you’re going to be sick.”
I pinch his cheek. “Like this?” I scoot across the velvet until our thighs press against each other. Until I can feel the heat from his body and smell the wine on his lips.
He stares down at me. His gaze bounces to my mouth before he looks away and reaches for the laptop on his coffee table. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and the praise notches into a spot at the base of my spine.
“What’s your mom’s name?”
“Kelly. My dad is Michael. My sisters are Katelin and Amanda.” He clicks a few keys on the keyboard and sits back. “Tap my foot if it gets overwhelming.”
“Why would it get over—”
“There they are,” a woman says. Her face pops up on the screen next to an older man with gray hair, and she waves. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, Mom,” Shawn says. His arm falls around my shoulders as two other boxes appear on the computer and younger women join the call. The pair look so much like Shawn, I have to do a double take. “This is Lacey.”
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes.” I wave back. “Nice to meet you.”
“She’s beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Michael?” Shawn’s mom asks, and I blush. “Please, call me Kelly. I’m so glad you could join us tonight.”
“We just finished up dinner,” Shawn says. “Wanted to run through the Christmas plans with you all while we’re all here.”
“I’m so glad you’re coming up,” one of his sisters—Katelin, maybe?—says. “The girls are going to be so excited to see their uncle.”
“We’re going to drive up on the 22nd,” he says. His fingers drum against my shoulder, and I nestle a little closer into his embrace. “We’ll have to head out early on the 26th—I gave the guys Christmas off, but we’re going to get in two practices before we head back on the road.”
“Any time with you is better than no time with you,” Kelly says. She turns her attention to me and smiles. “Lacey. Tell us about yourself.”
“Oh.” I sit up straight, not prepared for this. “I’m a pediatrician. My best friend is dating Aiden. That’s how Shawn and I met.” I glance up at him, and he’s smiling down at me. His beam is encouraging, and it helps shake my nerves. “We started spending more time together, and we kind of fell for each other.”
“I read the article you did for the Journal of Pediatrics. You’re really smart, Lacey,” the other sister says, and my cheeks turn even more red.
“You did? Wow, thank you.” I fiddle with the ends of the blanket and twist my hands together. “I’m sure it was pretty boring.”
“No way. Your opinions on bacterial pneumonia were fascinating,” she says, and I want to bury my face in Shawn’s chest.
I spent weeks researching the article, and I put in long hours at the library while also working full shifts. I’ve been recognized by colleagues for my contributions, but hearing it from a stranger holds extra importance to me. Someone looked it up because they wanted to, not because they had to, and that consideration makes me want to burst with pride.
“She’s the smartest person I know,” Shawn says. He rests his free hand on my thigh. I’m not sure if you can see the touch through the camera, but I don’t even care. I like how his palm feels, warm and heavy on my skin.
“Thank you for letting me join you all for the holidays. It means a lot,” I say. “I know traditions can be important to families.”
“The only tradition we have is making cookies on Christmas Eve,” sister one says.
“And a snowball fight on Christmas morning,” sister two says.
“Don’t forget Mom’s famous egg frittata for breakfast,” Shawn adds, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “Best food I’ll eat all year.”
“So come hungry and with an arm ready for throwing snowballs?” I ask. “Got it.”
“She’s going to fit right in,” sister two says, and everyone nods in agreement.
“How’s it been after the viral video?” Kelly asks. “You two are taking care of yourselves, right?”
“It’s been fine,” Shawn says, and his fingers trace up my leg. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it, but I don’t stop him. “The circus has died down temporarily. I have someone keeping an eye on Lacey, just in case a toolbag from the internet decides to act like an idiot.”
My head whips to my left and I stare at him. “You what?” I ask, not sure I heard him correctly. “You have someone following me?”
“They aren’t following you,” he says. “They’re making sure you’re safe.”
“That sounds a lot like following to me.” I glare at him. “When were you going to tell me I had a stalker?”
“Hey.” Shawn touches my cheek and tips my chin back. “If you want me to get rid of them, I will.”
“That would be nice,” I say. “Are they peeping in my windows, too?”
He glances at the screen and gives his family a sheepish smile. “We better go. I’ll call you next week, Mom, to make sure everything is finalized.”
“Sounds good. Love you, honey. It was great to meet you, Lacey,” Kelly says, and I plaster on a smile.
“It was nice to meet you all too,” I say, and I wave goodbye. “See you soon.”
Shawn closes the laptop, and he sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I stand up and pace around his living room. “Why is someone keeping an eye on me? Are you expecting something bad to happen?”
“No.” He stands up and tugs me toward him.“I care about you, okay? A whole fucking lot. And I know I’m not the most popular guy in the world, but I get letters from fans every week. Weird shit, like notes from women that say they want me to be their baby’s daddy.”
“I know I give you shit about your fraternity boy calendar shoot, but you know I’m not great with football. How famous are you in the sports world?”
“I won five Super Bowls. I have the league record for most touchdowns in a season. I’m fairly famous,” he admits. “I can’t really control it, and now that you’re associated with me, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I am going to keep you safe, Lacey. I’m sorry for not telling you. That was shitty of me.”
I suck in a breath. My eyes prick with tears, and I dip my chin. “You care about me?” I ask. My voice wobbles, and I sniff. “A whole fucking lot?”
“Yeah, Lacey girl,” he says softly, and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. His thumb traces down my jaw, and my skin feels hot under his touch. “I do. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes.” I nod. “That’s okay with me. I care about you, too.”
“Good. I promise this guy isn’t looking in your windows or going through your underwear drawer. He just makes sure you get to and from work safely. He goes home at seven on the dot, and he’ll stop the minute I ask him to. Some of the players on the team have security for their other halves, too.”
Before I know what I’m doing, my hands are holding his shirt and I’m tugging him toward me. “I’ve never had someone take care of me before. Not really,” I say. “Not like this.”
“It’s an honor to be the first,” Shawn says.
“I’m sorry for getting worked up and jumping down your throat.”
“And I’m sorry for not telling you.”
I look up at him. He’s watching me intently, and he smiles when our eyes meet. It’s a different smile from what I’ve seen from him before. This one is secretive, almost. Soft. Special, too. It makes my heart skip a beat and my throat go dry.
“Will you let me know when you get to California?” I ask.
His touch dances down my throat and his hand settles around the back of my neck. “Worried about me, Lacey girl?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and I don’t miss the way he doesn’t use my last name like our usual sparring matches. “I am.”
Shawn hums, and I feel hot everywhere. I think lava courses through my blood at the sound. “I’ll miss you,” he says. “Life’s more fun with a fake girlfriend by my side.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I say back. “But only because you can cook your ass off.”
He laughs and frees me from his hold. He heads back toward the kitchen, and I watch him go. “Speaking of, want dessert?” he asks over his shoulder. “I have ice cream in the freezer.”
“Sure.” I touch my neck where his hand rested, and I take a deep breath. “Sounds perfect.”
Perfect, I think. Just like him.
Oh, shit.
