I feel like you’re trying to debilitate me with your sexual teasing.

Ivy’s text comes just as our plane has landed and begins taxiing at the Dallas-Fort Worth airport. A smile breaks free, and I type back a response.

Me: Nice use of the Word of the Day. And don’t deny it. You like my teasing.

Ivy: Have you landed safely?

Me: Just now. Dax has been snoring in my damn ear the entire time.

Ivy: Poor baby.

Me: You can call me later, and your sweet voice can erase that memory.

Ivy: Is someone trying to get me to talk dirty tonight?

Me: Maybe. ;)

“You know you only get that shit-eating grin when you’re talking to your woman.”

At Dax’s remark, I jerk my head around. He wiggles his eyebrows at me and leans over, attempting to see my exchange with Ivy.

When I tuck my phone close to my chest, he leans back in his seat with a huff. “Help a lonely brother out.”

“Get your own woman.” When his mouth parts, I interrupt, holding up a finger. “A good, long-term woman.”

“Pfft. Those are hard to come by.”

“Don’t I know it.”

The ding sounds throughout the plane, signaling we can take off our seat belts.

Dax unlatches his seat belt. “Hold up. I thought you were wooing your woman with all your protein smoothies, granola wraps, and sweet potato pancakes?” He places the back of his hand to his forehead, Scarlett O’Hara style. “Pray tell, is there a problem in paradise?”

We exit our seats and file into the aisle behind our teammates. “Wiseass.”

“Just sayin’.” Dax hitches his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t think that’ll work the magic.”

We slowly edge toward the exit of the plane. “And what do you think will?”

“Find out what really gets her. What she doesn’t tell you about.” He shrugs. “Find out what her love language is.”

“Kendrick!” one of our linemen yells a few feet away. “You talking ’bout that love language shit again?”

Dax turns around. “I’m telling you, it worked for my parents.”

“My wife made me read that book,” Tucker Perry, our tight end, pipes up. He’s a rookie but a great kid. Married his college sweetheart before entering the draft. “It’s actually pretty enlightening.”

Collective guffaws sound from the others, and there’s good-natured ribbing, but Perry pays them no mind.

“You should read it, especially if you’ve got a good woman. A keeper.”

We file out of the plane, and Dax falls into step beside me. “See? Told you.” He flashes me a smug look. “You better get on Amazon and one-click that book.”

* * *

I stretch out on my hotel bed, grateful to have the space to myself while I listen to the line ring multiple times. I hate the surge of disappointment that engulfs me at the prospect of not talking to Ivy tonight.

Ever since she spent that night at my house, things have shifted between us. Part of me thinks she views me as a challenge now. The other wonders if she’s as intrigued as I am to see where this goes, if she feels that fierce connection between us.

“Hey, handsome.”

I can’t hold in the sigh of relief when she answers. Nor can I resist the smile that forms. “Hey, beautiful. I thought I was about to get your voicemail.” I pause. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just finished going over some details for work.”

“Ah, more people who need to get ditched.”

She lets out a little laugh. “So it seems.” There’s a hint of weariness in her voice.

“You okay? If you’re too tired, I can let you go.”

A soft sigh reaches my ears. “Today’s kind of an…odd day for me.” There’s a pause, and just when I think she’s not planning to say more, she adds, “Today—tonight—is the anniversary of when I became a ward of the state.” Her words are barely audible, and I strain to hear them.

I shift to lie on my side and study the screensaver on my laptop that sits beside me on the bed. It’s a photo I took of her still curled up beside me in bed one morning after she’d spent the night. She looked so peaceful, incredibly beautiful with her slightly mussed hair and face clean of all makeup.

I’ve been waiting for a breakthrough with Ivy, for her to let me in. To allow me more than a glimpse at what makes her tick.

Finally—finally—she’s giving me something.

“I’m sorry. I’m such a downer. I shouldn’t have—” she rushes on, misinterpreting my silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer quickly. “Because I’m a pretty good listener.” Please talk to me, Ivy, I plead silently.

“Honestly…” She hesitates. “I’d rather just listen to you tell me about your day.”

I pinch my eyes closed in disappointment. So damn close. “Well, get comfy because you’re in for a real treat.” I work hard to infuse enthusiasm into my voice.

It’s all worth it when I notice her mood has lightened.

“Oh, really?” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Do tell.”

“This morning, I woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of my horrendously annoying alarm clock. And I was all sorts of pissed because it interrupted one of the most amazing dreams.”

“And what was this dream about? Winning the Super Bowl again?”

“Ah, good guess, but no.” I pause. “I dreamed I woke up with you beside me. You and I went for a run, and then you begged me to make you sweet potato pancakes for breakfast once we got back home.”

“Mmm, that sounds good to me. Aside from the running part.”

“Oh, there’s more, though. After we made our breakfast, I just couldn’t help myself.” I deepen my voice. “I set you on the island, spread your legs with my hands, and…”

“And?” Ivy’s voice is breathless.

“I told you to behave and stop distracting me. Then we ate our breakfast.”

“You’re awful.” Her husky laugh brings a smile to my face. She pauses briefly. “Thanks, Becket.” Her soft murmur possesses a more relaxed tone. “For helping me tonight.”

A glance at the time on the bedside alarm clock has me grimacing. “I need to get some rest. Tomorrow’s a busy day.”

“I’ll let you go.”

“Sleep tight. I’ll call you after the game.”

“Night, Becket.” She hesitates before finishing softly. “I can’t wait to see you when you get back.”