Page 149 of Tangled with the Tight End

He loves our hometown. He also loves what he calls bringing Waterford up to speed. Even though he lives in Nashville now, he’s constantly dreaming up projects to bring more commerce to the area. The practice facility was one. I can’t complain about that now. If we were located in Murfreesboro or Knoxville, Winona wouldn’t have been the one caring for me.

Maybe that’s the angle I’ll use when I break the news that we’re dating to my parents. It’s actually all because of you, Dad. You made this possible. Yeah. Probably not.

Dad ends the call with a short, “See you in a few hours.”

“See you,” I say, clicking to end the call and facing Winona’s expectant expression.

“My dad,” I say.

“So you mentioned.”

“He and my mom are coming up for Boston’s birthday. They’re stopping here on the way. I told them you were driving me to the party.”

“So I heard,” she says. She lifts her glass of juice and takes a sip, staring at me over the rim of the glass. “Do they know about us?”

“About us dating?” Obviously that’s what she’s asking.

“No, about the way you’ve been honing my football throwing skills. Yes, Declan. Do they know we’re dating?”

“I haven’t told them yet.”

She nods. “I see.”

She’s not mad or huffy. Most women I’ve dated would be throwing a reality-TV-show level of a fit right now about how they need to be seen by the public as my girlfriend, and other women need to know I belong to them.

Not Winona.

This isn’t about image.

This is about belonging.

“It’s not about you,” I assure her, which unfortunately only serves to make it sound like it is about her. “It’s my dad.”

“Your dad.”

“He’s very opinionated. And powerful. And he needs time to warm up to things that weren’t his idea.”

“Oh, I know,” she says. “I sat through the town meetings about the Home Mart. And the next set of meetings about the practice facility.” She pauses, smiles and says, “He seems like he has a good heart.”

What? No one ever describes my dad as having a good heart. He does—beneath his drive to build an empire.

“He does,” I agree. “He means well. In the deepest sense. But he’s sometimes myopic.”

“And he won’t approve of me for you.” She’s so calm and matter-of-fact.

“He might take a minute to warm up to the idea.”

She laughs. “Declan, I’m not some shrinking violet.” She shakes her head. “That’s such a silly phrase. But you know what I mean. I understand your family dynamics. I’ve been here while your mom mail-ordered companions to show up at your doorstep. I’ve seen the women they expect you to fall for, or be with. No offense to any of them, but they aren’t your type.”

She’s so certain—strong where I unfairly expected her to be weak. It makes her all the more attractive.

“You’re my type,” I say.

“Crazy as that is, I think I believe you.”

“Good,” I move in for a kiss.

She stops me with a hand to my chest. “So, I’m your dirty little secret?”