“Are you crazy,” I burst out as Wyatt turned into the school parking lot. “We could be found out.”
Wyatt maneuvered his car past the tennis courts finally parking outside the football stadium. “Relax. I’ve taken precautions to ensure our privacy.”
I cocked a brow. “Precautions?”
Those hazel eyes slid over me—something about the way Wyatt looked at me was electric, and awoke every nerve and cell inside my body. All my emotions colliding together like bowling pins after they’d been struck.
“Can you just trust me on this?”
“Sure.”
The smell of fresh cut grass hit me as I stepped out of the car into the warm summer air. The sky was painted a beautiful mix of pinks and oranges. Wyatt took me by the hand, leading me up a flight of stairs to the press box.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. “Are you breaking in?”
“No, I have a key,” he shot back. “I told you to trust me.”
Once inside, he set the bag he had been carrying on what looked to be a built-in desk. Wyatt explained the layout of the press box. The front wall was tilted giving us a clear view of the entire field. My hands glided over the faux leather lining the walls.
“Okay here, sit,” he said, pulling out one of the metal chairs. “You’re not gonna want to miss this.”
He started pulling out snacks and all my requests were met: popcorn, Pop-Tarts, and even a Whatchamacallit.
“I didn’t think all of this was for tonight.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Eat what you like and then take the rest home. I have one more thing.”
Wyatt shuffled down the hallway out the door and reappeared moments later with two cans. One was a beer that I recognized from my night out with Sharon, the other can was pink.
“Wine in a can,” he mused, setting it in front of me.
My eyes popped wide. “Wine in a can,” I repeated.
“Yep, it comes highly recommended.” He glanced at his watch and cracked open his beer. Looking out at the field, he started to count backwards from ten. With pure fascination, I watched his lips and studied the scruff against his jawline. My fingers curled around the can remembering the feel of his hair scraping against my neck. What would it feel like against my thighs?
What is he doing to me?
A flash of light caught my attention and my head jerked towards the window. The field lights came on illuminating the sky and the entire football stadium.
I sucked in a breath. “Wow, this is incredible.”
“Some kind of view, huh?”
My gaze swung back to Wyatt, the smile on his face broadening with each second that passed. I couldn’t help it, my lips curled into a smile because he was completely adorable with his boyish grin. My eyes raked down his long neck to where his t-shirt exposed a dark smattering of hair just below the hollow of his throat. The shirt was only a barrier, but oh so sexy, and the idea of Wyatt naked churned my thoughts
My fingers tore open the silver foil packet of the Pop-Tarts. I took a bite, and the sugary goodness was like heaven to my taste buds. Licking the tip of my thumb, my eyes caught Wyatt’s stare.
I shrugged. “What?”
“That was extremely hot.”
I heard myself snort as I shoved the silver packet at him. “Would you like one?”
“Sure.” He bit into the toaster pastry and I watched in complete fascination as his jaw flexed and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Wyatt Hamilton was becoming my favorite subject.
“So, is this something you frequently do?” I asked, before taking a sip of my wine.
“No,” he answered as his palm covered my knee, his thumb stroking heated circles against my thigh. “This is my ritual before the first game of the season. I come up here to think, but mostly I get a rush from seeing the lights come on for the first time before the first regular game. That must sound silly. It’s a lot of firsts.”
He was sharing his tradition with me by bringing me here. The intimacy of his gesture floored me.
I swallowed thickly. “I don’t think so at all. I think it’s lovely.”
“There’s nothing like a Friday night lit up with stadium lights. Then again, it could be a Saturday night or Sunday night, and I’d think the same thing.”
“Did you always want to play professional football?”
“No, I wanted to be a lifeguard.” He reached under the table, and then dragged my chair to face him, angling my legs between his. Wyatt’s strong hand gripped my thigh.
My brows arched. “A professional lifeguard?”
“Baywatch style. What could be better than sand, surf and women in bikinis?” he joked, waggling his dark brows. “Actually, Elliston University recruited me, and then a few more came around telling me that I was the best quarterback they’d ever seen in all their years of recruitment. At that point, I hadn’t much thought about even going to college. I was all too happy to stay in Florida and work at my dad’s marina after high school.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to go to college?”
Turning back to face Hannah, I shrugged slightly. “I was kid from a small island town in Florida,” I began. “I’d never been out of the state. Our vacations were spent going to Orlando. My mom is one of those ladies who loved Disney—I mean anything and everything Disney. Once a year she and Dad packed up the van and headed for the Magic Kingdom. Try picking up girls, when your mom is prancing around wearing a Beauty and the Beast t-shirt and mouse ears.” My chest shook with laughter before I took a sip of my beer.
“She took you to the happiest place on Earth and you were miserable. The irony.”
“Right,” I agreed. “We had fun though.”
“Plus, I had it set in my head that I’d take over the marina one day and keep it in the family.” My fingertips brushed across her mid-thigh and her eyes closed.
“And, I wasn’t very good at interviews,” I continued. “My southern accent, I hated it. Hated hearing myself talk. I was afraid people would call me a dumb hick or a redneck. Insecurity had the better of me when I was younger.”
“I don’t hear much of an accent when you speak,” she asserted.
“My freshman year, I became friends with a girl in my communications class. She was a double major in literature and foreign language. One day she told the class that she was a French and Spanish tutor and if anyone needed help to please talk to her after class. I got this crazy idea that if she could help students with a foreign language, maybe she could help me with my accent. When I asked her, she didn’t laugh, so that was a good start.” I looked away, choking back the emotion from the memories. “Anyway, she was my tutor, then she became my girlfriend, and then I ended up marrying her.”
Hannah blinked, looking a little shocked. Her soft hand gripped mine, and she squeezed it tight.
“Kate worked with me on my vocal character and delivery and, over time, I learned to phase out the drawl I had and speak more formally during interviews. It gave me confidence. It made me a better player and helped me develop leadership qualities.” I tipped back my beer taking a long swallow. “I guess I hadn’t really told anyone all of that before.”
Minutes slipped by, and the rasp of her fingers against my hand combined with the low hum of the air conditioner filled the quiet. Hannah looked up at me, her blue eyes boring into mine, before she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me.
“I’m glad you shared this with me,” she said, pressing her forehead to mine.
“Me too.”