Page 106 of Tangled with the Tight End

I know he’s going to say how beautiful and smart and funny and comfortable in her own skin she is. How she’s not like any other woman—especially not the ones we’re used to being around.

He laughs again. “I see you. But I hate to break it to you. I’m not the one to give relationship advice. You need to talk to someone like Linc.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“Though I’m flattered you proposed to me first,” he says, cracking himself up. “Hang on.”

There’s a clicking sound and a beep, and I wonder if he hung up, but then he’s back.

The next thing I know, Linc’s on the call too. “Yeah, Delaney, what’s up?”

“I’ve got O’Connell on the phone,” Delaney says.

“Declan?”

“Yeah, hey, Linc.”

“What’s up? You okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been by, man. It’s been busy. You know how it is. That’s no excuse, though.”

“It’s fine. I do know how it is.”

“What’s going on?” Linc asks. “Why’s Delaney doing your dirty work? You’ve got my number.”

“I do. And I’m fine.”

“Is this about a woman?” Linc asks.

Delaney just starts cracking up again. “See. I knew you’d be the one to call, Linc.”

“Of course, I’m the one to call. Especially if it’s about women. Your parents trying to fix you up with another model or an actress wannabe, or is it a European heiress this time?”

Both my teammates laugh like they’re at a comedy show.

“Can we not go there?” I practically wail. “And, yes. I’ve had a few statuesque visitors while I’ve been homebound. My parents set up unwelcome visits. One time, Winona was here to witness the whole thing.”

“The perks of being out on leave,” Linc says on a laugh. Not that he’s interested in having random women visit him. He’s happily married.

“Perks?” I ask. I sure wouldn’t call women parading through my home in hopes of me putting a ring on it perks.

“Let’s call this meeting to order,” Delaney says. “O’Connell’s got a crush on his nurse.”

Linc laughs a hearty, deep laugh. “Oh, no. That’s too rich. Almost cliché, my man.”

“I know.” I stare at the life-sized abstract painting of myself running onto the field.

“Is this a situation where you’re dependent and she fluffs your pillows just right, or do you really like her?”

“I like her. I think. I don’t know.”

I like her. A lot. I just don’t know what to do with all these feelings and my situation. I’ll be going back to work in a few months. What if this is one-sided? My head rolls with thoughts. And beneath all that is a longing I can’t tame and can barely contain.

I scrub my hand down my jaw again. Man, I need to shave.

The line goes so quiet I wonder if they hung up.

Winona. I love her quirky way of seeing things, the way she moves through the world with delight like a child. But she’s no child. She’s all woman. And yet, she’s unpretentious. The opposite of every woman my mom and dad have foisted on me over the years.

“Yeah,” I finally say. “I like her.”