Page 44 of Ruff and Tumble

“This was my dad’s house,” she said, nodding at the walls around them. “Most of the stuff in here—including the mug you’re drinking from—belonged to him. It’s sentimental and silly, I know, but I don’t have the heart to throw any of it away.”

“Oh.”

He said just that—oh—and she realized that if she was ever going to get this out, now was the time to do it.

“He loved football in general and the Lumberjacks in particular. He was the first in line to buy season tickets every year, and we never missed a home game—not even one year when we both had the flu. We ate Lumberjacks pancakes for breakfast on Sundays. We put up a Lumberjacks-themed Christmas tree during the holidays. He would even mow the logo into a pattern on our front lawn when the grass got too long. Believe me, it would have been much weirder for menotto become a fan after the childhood I had.”

There. She’d said it. She’d laid out all her crazy for him to see, and he could decide what he wanted to do with it.

“He died, didn’t he?” Cole asked. “That’s what you told Mia the day I brought her over.”

She turned to stare at him, but he was looking at the glass-encased football on the mantel. She had no idea he’d been paying that much attention.

“Yes, he did,” she said softly. “He had a heart attack about nine years ago. Unfortunately, his was fatal.”

“You must have been really young. I’m sorry.”

And that was all Cole said. He didn’t attempt to probe any deeper into her past, and he didn’t use the moment to talk about his own father’s condition. She should have tried to redirect the conversation, to mention the lateness of the hour and Philip’s need for a warm bed, but something about his gentle sympathy caused her to keep going.

“I know how it looks,” she said. “A single woman living alone inside a Lumberjacks shrine, all these pictures and collector’s items and knickknacks, but it’s not what you think. I like football. I probably love it. But if my dad had been a fan of cricket or building those tiny ships inside bottles, I could have just as easily become obsessed with them instead. It doesn’t have anything to do with you specifically.”

“I believe you.”

Although he spoke sincerely enough, Hailey felt it was important to drive her point home.

“He never even heard the name Cole Bennett. You were still playing college ball when he died, not yet a twinkle in the Lumberjacks franchise’s eye.” She paused, and honesty compelled her to add, “He would have liked you, though. You’re calm under pressure, and you’re really good at anticipating your team’s movements. It’s easy to tell that youknowthem—what their habits are, what they’re capable of. You never play down their strengths in an attempt to highlight your own.”

Hailey felt rather than saw Cole come toward her. One second, he was sitting opposite her, hiding behind his mug of hot chocolate, and the next, he was grabbing her by the hands and yanking her to her feet.

“What did I say—?” she began, but there was no time for her to finish. With a speed that could only belong to a man who spent as much time in the gym as this one, he had one strong arm around her waist. His free hand came up to cup her cheek.

“I’m about to kiss you,” he said. “Very deeply and very thoroughly.”

It was the same weirdly chivalrous declaration of intent that he’d made at the dog shelter, and it had the same effect on her as before. She was surprised and confused andeager, unable to do much more than lift her lips toward his and wait.

Most of the men Hailey had kissed in her lifetime either came bumbling in at the end of a date or waited until there was a clear sign from her that things were about to progress to the next level. Both of which were fine, but nothing at all compared to this. Cole wasn’t asking, but he wasn’t not-asking either. He wastaking, but only once she’d given her implicit consent.

Heady stuff, that.

His lips touched hers with the same gentleness as before, a direct counter to his claim that she was going to be taken deeply and thoroughly. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel disappointed. There was something about that light graze and flutter of his mouth that felt more intimate than an immediate tangle of tongues.

He was tasting her, sampling her, enjoying her—her, Hailey Lincoln, clad in men’s pajamas bearing the logo of his professional sports team. A woman who had watched and admired him from afar for years. A woman who wasn’t particularly beautiful or interesting and whose main claim to fame was that she cleaned up dog poop on television for a living.

It was the last thought that made her lose control. Well, that and the fact that Cole’s right hand had moved from cupping the side of her face to bury itself in the tangled coils of her half-braided hair. He was holding her head in place in order to move from that light, soft, playful nibbling to…

Yep, there it was. Cole Bennett’s tongue. Inside her mouth.

“I’m sorry. Are youlaughingright now?” He pulled back just enough to separate his mouth from hers, but she could still taste the light chocolate of his breath and feel the vibration of his words. “At me?”

She giggled harder. She also did her best to move away so that she wasn’t literally laughing in his face, but his grip on her hair was too strong for that.

“Not atyou,” she managed, gasping. “At the situation.”

“And what situation is that?” he demanded.

“Oh, you know…” She let her voice trail off, hoping he would realize the futility of trying to kiss a woman who didn’t know a good thing when it planted itself on her lips. It was no use. He showed no sign of wanting to save himself. “I always thought I had weird reactions to situations, but I’ve obviously got nothing on you. What was it that moved you to such passionate heights? The sad stories about our fathers or the way these pajamas have a toothpaste stain on the cuff?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t move from his position.