With Me In Seattle: Play With Me Part 6

"Where the h.e.l.l are you?" he growls.

"Heading home," I respond calmly.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

"Look, Will, I'm not interested in the arrogant, c.o.c.ky football hero. That's not who I agreed to go out with." I close my eyes and try to calm my pulse. Why does he make me so f.u.c.king nervous?

"Where are you?" he repeats, clearly p.i.s.sed.

"In a cab. Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"Meg, I can't change my job..."

"I'm not asking you to," I interrupt him. "But you had to know that you'd get a h.e.l.luva lot of attention in a sports bar, Will. Showing off how famous you are is not the way to impress me. I'm not a woman who thinks that scoring a celebrity is s.e.xy. I think you're s.e.xy, without the football jersey." f.u.c.k, why did I say that? "So, you go ahead and enjoy your photo op, but I have better things to do with my time than be ignored. Have a good night."

This date so did not count toward the three. And there probably won't be any more dates, either. I just don't need to date an arrogant a.s.s.

d.a.m.n it.

Chapter Five.

I'm sorry.

I stare down at the note that accompanied the dozens of chocolate cupcakes that were delivered to the hospital just a few minutes ago.

It's obvious who they're from.

He sent beautiful, intricately decorated, chocolate cupcakes for all of us, not just me. There's enough here for all of the patients, the staff... h.e.l.l, even the kids' parents.

"What did he do?" Jill asks from behind me and I whirl around.

"Stop reading over my shoulder!"

She chuckles and picks up a cupcake, sniffs it, and takes a big bite. "What did he do?" she repeats.

"He p.i.s.sed me off."

"When?"

"Last night." I pick up a cupcake and take a big bite. Mmm... so good.

"Wanna put these in the lounge?" Jill asks as she licks her fingertips.

"Yeah. People can graze on them all day, although I don't think they'll last that long." I smirk and wheel the cart full of the chocolate goodness down the hall.

"You know, he could have just sent you a cupcake," Jill murmurs beside me, examining her fingernails.

"I know." d.a.m.n him for being so sweet.

"Mmm hmm."

"Stop. I get it. He's nice, but he f.u.c.ked up yesterday, so it's okay for me to be frustrated with him, okay?"

"Okay." Jill raises her hands in an "I surrender" motion and snags another treat. "These are delish."

"Yeah, I guess he listened the other day when the kids told him I like chocolate."

"I guess he did," she responds with a smile.

"You have chocolate in your teeth," I mutter and pick up another cupcake for myself.

I arrange the cupcakes on a long table in the lounge and then pull out my phone.

Delicious. I hit send and bite my lip. Maybe I should have said more, but he needs to earn it.

Yes, you are. He responds immediately, and I laugh. Suddenly my phone is ringing, Football Star displayed on the caller ID.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hey," he responds softly. "I wanted to hear your voice, and this is faster than texting. We're about to get on the plane to go to San Francisco for Sunday's game."

"Oh, it's an away game this week?" I ask, disappointment in my voice. He'll be out of town all weekend.

That's okay, I work all weekend.

"Yeah, we'll be back Sunday night. Look, Meg, I'm sorry for last night. I should have known that it would get crazy, but I really did just want to take you out for a good burger."

"Yeah, you should have known," I agree softly.

"Have I completely f.u.c.ked up, or are you going to let me make it up to you?"

I bite my lip and clench my eyes shut. d.a.m.n it, what is it about this guy that I just can't seem to tell him no?

"Next time, I pick the spot," I reply and I hear him sigh in relief.

"Deal. So, where shall I take you for date number two?"

"Uh, let's worry about date number one first."

"We already went on date number one," he growls, making me grin.

"No, we didn't. You didn't take me home and you p.i.s.sed me off. It doesn't count."

"f.u.c.k," he mutters and I can imagine him running his hand through his s.h.a.ggy hair in frustration. "You're killing me, honey."

"How is that?" I ask and peel the paper off another chocolate cupcake. Jesus, I'm going to gain ten pounds today.

"Hold on," he takes the phone away from his mouth and calls out to someone, "Hey! I'll be right back."

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Finding a private spot," he mutters and I hear him walking. A door opens, then closes. "As I was saying, you're killing me because I want to taste you, everywhere."

I stop chewing the now-cardboard chocolate in my mouth and swallow hard.

"Excuse me?" I whisper.

"I want to slowly undress you and taste every delectable inch of you. I want you squirming and wet."

"Mission accomplished," I mutter and then slap my hand over my mouth as he laughs.

"I want to see you Sunday night."

"I work Sunday night. I'm on swings this weekend. I don't get off work until two am."

"Do you work that shift often?" he asks quietly and I frown at the change in his tone.

"It's a rotation. We all work all the shifts. But I only work three twelve hour days a week, so it's not so bad."

"So, let me get this straight. You go home in the middle of the night to a house in North Seattle with no alarm system?" His voice is steel, and my stomach clenches.

"It's no big deal, Will."

"I'm installing an alarm system in your townhouse on Monday." His voice is firm.

"No, you're not." What the h.e.l.l?

"Yes, I am. Don't argue with me on this, Megan. I'm gone a lot; I need to know you're safe."

"Will, we've been out on one date..."

"A-ha! So it was a date," he exclaims triumphantly.

"Don't change the subject. You don't need to install anything in my house. I'm fine."

"We'll see."

"Is that a 'we'll see' so I shut up and you do it anyway?" I ask suspiciously.

"Yes. Your safety isn't something I'll f.u.c.k with. If you have to go home in the middle of the night alone, I need to know that you're safe."

"Will, I..."

"I have to go," he interrupts, and I'm instantly disappointed in not only the loss of his fun and carefree tone, but that I won't see him all weekend. "Are you going to watch the game on Sunday?" he asks, his tone softened.

"Is it a morning or afternoon game?" I ask.

"Afternoon."

"Yeah, I usually watch the games with the kids. I'll be watching in between work stuff."

"Okay, pay attention at half-time. I'll make sure I'm on camera as we head off the field, and I'll say hi."

"Seriously?"

"Yep, watch for me."

"Okay. Have a safe trip."

"You be safe, sweetheart. I'll text you when I can."

"Okay, bye."

"Later."

And he's gone.

"NO NO NO!!" Nick exclaims from his position on the leather couch in the lounge on Sunday afternoon. There are roughly a dozen patients, parents, a few staff on their breaks, all with their eyes glued to the enormous television watching the football game.

The kids are wearing the team gear that the guys gave them last week. Will had a spread of food delivered around noon of sandwiches, chips, popcorn and soda.

What is it with this man and food?

So everyone is munching and enjoying the game. Instead of a hospital lounge, it looks like someone's living room during the Super Bowl.

The kids love the sense of normalcy, and I can't wait to thank Will for it.

Everyone groans as Will is tackled on the field and I hold my breath until he gets back up and walks steadily to his teammates.

Dear G.o.d, I can't watch him get tackled again. How does he not get hurt?

The first half of the game comes to an end, and Will's team is winning, twenty-one to seven.

My eyes are glued to the television, watching intently for my message from Will, and sure enough, right before they go to commercial, he's on the screen. His hair is wet with sweat and plastered to his forehead, face is dirty, and he's breathing hard from exertion, but he grins at the camera and taps his nose with his forefinger, then points to the camera and mouths, "miss you."

Well, s.h.i.t, he's sweet.

Without over-thinking it, I pull my phone out and text him.

Miss you, too, football star.