Page 177 of Tangled with the Tight End

“And yes,” I say. “Total flag on the play. Loss of possession.”

“That’s so harsh. Not even losing fifteen yards. It’s a full turnover?”

I kiss her again.

She pulls back, laughing. “You really do love the football talk.”

“You have no idea,” I admit.

We arrive on the tarmac and I take my crutches from our driver, thanking him. Winona walks ahead of me, already falling into the routine of climbing the steps and greeting the crew like she flies private jets all the time.

We use the lounge on the flight back. I don’t have them turn the couches into beds. It’s too short a flight, but I want to hold Winona after an evening of looking at her from across a table. She nestles into my side and Martina brings us some drinks and macarons.

“I could get used to this,” Winona says, grabbing a cookie off the plate.

“I hope you do,” I tell her. “Next time, I will fly you to St. Thomas. It’s only a four-hour flight. We take a nicer jet when we fly longer distances.”

“Oh, I should hope so,” she says, holding her cookie so her pinky finger is extended. “I can barely stand this one. Abhorrent. Not at all up to my standards. I require a far nicer jet.”

I laugh. “You got me there.”

I haven’t thought of anyone but Winona all night, but her playful taunting brings to mind other women from my past. They would expect a better jet. Not that I ever flew any of them anywhere. But other women always expected me to lavish them with gifts and extravagant dates.

“You’re amazing,” I tell Winona, leaning in and kissing her now that we’re alone.

She melts into me, running her hands through my hair and then resting her forearms on my shoulders while I tug her close.

When she pulls away, she says, “I’m amazing because I demand the very best. I want you to charter Air Force One for us.” She breaks into a peal of laughter at her own joke.

I laugh too, but then our eyes catch and I tell her. “You’re amazing because you could ask me for anything and I’d try to give it to you if I could. But you don’t. You’re just happy with whatever we’re doing.”

“And you’re amazing,” she says, running her hand down my jawline and holding my chin for a moment before leaning in and whispering in my ear. “Because you would try to give me anything I asked for. That’s how amazing you are.”

A chill runs through me, followed by a warmth only she brings.

I don’t know if this is love, but it’s more than I’ve ever felt for anyone.

I’m definitely falling for Winona.

“Thank you for taking me to Nashville,” she says, resting her head on my chest and laying her arm across my waist. “And for sending Ann. And asking Cass to help you. You get all the boyfriend points tonight. Ten out of ten recommend.”

“Ten out of ten?” I laugh.

“Yes. Flying colors. You win. Super Bowl champ of all boyfriends.”

She tilts her head up to look at me. “And that doesn’t mean you have to kiss me just because I used the words Super Bowl.”

“Actually,” I say, lifting my finger and gently sliding a tendril of hair off her cheek. “It does.”

The next morning I wake to the sound of incoming texts. I rub my eyes and open my lock screen to find a string of messages from Patrick, Mom, and Dad. There’s even a few from Kate Reynolds, the Thunder’s Director of Communications. The group chat with the guys on the team is popping off too—on a day when they’re playing the Panthers in Carolina.

And there’s a text from Winona. I open that one first.

Winona: Well, at least they got my good side.

Declan: What?

Winona: In the photo. Haven’t you seen it?