Page 159 of Tangled with the Tight End

I pivot my head to look back at him. “That you wish Rhodes would have caught that deep ball in the fourth?”

He plants a kiss on my lips. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

“What?”

“When you talk football.”

I laugh, gently nudging my elbow back into his ribs.

“And yes, I’d have loved if Rhodes had caught that pass. But I was thinking about next year’s bye week.”

Declan hasn’t budged. He’s resting on his crutches, his chest flush to my back, chin on my shoulder.

I set the final serving platter in the drying rack and grab the towel to dry my hands. Then I spin around and face Declan, staring up into his eyes. He studies my face, his expression serious and tender. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.

“Funny,” I say softly. “I was thinking about next year’s bye week tonight too.”

“Were you?” he trails his fingers down my cheek and then down my arm. “What were you thinking?”

Am I really going to admit this to him?

Also, what was I thinking? I can barely gather my thoughts with the tingling aftermath of Declan’s touch dancing over my skin.

“It was nothing, really,” I say. “I was just thinking that would be your only week off next year and it would be nice if we hosted everyone again—to watch a game.”

He hums and smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his dimple popping.

“What were you thinking?” I ask.

“I want to take you somewhere you’ve never been before.”

“Like Arizona?” I tease. Although I wouldn’t mind going to Arizona.

“I was thinking more along the lines of St. Thomas,” he says.

“In the Caribbean?”

“Yes. I love snorkeling in a certain bay in St. John. You take the ferry from St. Thomas to get there. The water is so clear you can see straight through it. The fish are everywhere—all types. You’d love it.”

“Snorkeling?”

“You can swim, can’t you?” he asks.

“Yes, Declan. I can swim.”

“It would have been fine if you couldn’t. I would just have had to teach you.”

“Oh. In that case, maybe I can’t swim,” I say, smiling up at him. “Not at all. Teach me to swim, Declan.”

“As soon as my leg is better, we’ll start swim lessons.” He wags his brows.

Are we really talking about a year from now? Neither of us is flinching or acting surprised.

“So, fish?” I ask.

“So many fish.”

“What kinds?”