Look With Your Heart: a small town romance (Heart Collection Book 3) by L.B. Dunbar

Author:L.B. Dunbar [Dunbar, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: L.B. Dunbar Writes, Ltd.
Published: 2020-09-30T23:00:00+00:00

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“I do not understand the rules of this game,” Ella grumbles next to me as we sit on the couch, bellies full from the chili and all the toppings of sour cream, cheddar cheese, and lots of salty corn chips.

“Okay, here’s a rule. When the quarterback throws the ball, which is called a pass, we need to kiss. If he doesn’t throw it, then lady’s choice. You can say skip or kiss.”

“What?” She turns to me from her lounging position. Both of us slouch back against the couch cushions, feet kicked up on the coffee table. “I don’t think those are the rules.”

“Them’s the rules,” I assure her with an earnest nod of my head. “Watch.”

The quarterback holds the ball and runs with it. “That’s considered a carry. He didn’t throw the ball.”

“So a carry is not a pass?”

“A pass is a pass, but you can skip on kissing on a carry.”

“This makes no sense.” Ella laughs, and I swear I want to skip the rest of this game and just kiss her, but I’m giving her a choice. We’ve cooled since the kitchen, and now we’re lazy from lunch.

“Okay, next play,” I warn her, holding my breath with the hope the quarterback throw the ball downfield. I’ve screwed myself as I know this isn’t a passing game for him. The times I’ll get to kiss her will be few and far between, but the football gods are in my favor, and the quarterback tosses the ball downfield.

“Kiss,” I yell as though I’m screaming at the player on television to run. Ella sits up next to me, turns at the waist, and places her hands on my chest. To my surprise, she kisses me. Sweet, soft, hesitant. Then she pulls back. My hand has slipped around her back, and I stroke the base of her spine. Our eyes hold a moment, and then she curls into me.

Next play. The quarterback carries the ball. Ella says, “Skip.”

Another play. Another carry. Ella snorts, “Skip.”

The tension is building. I want that fucking quarterback to hike the ball—toss that sucker down the field—so I can kiss the hell out of this woman. He finally does, and Ella spins again, her mouth crashing to mine as we take a few minutes to savor one another. My hand slides up her back and curls into her hair. A whistle blows, and she pulls back.

“I’m starting to like this game.”

Yeah, well, I’m more frustrated than ever watching this game. When she curls back into my chest, tucking under my arm, my fingers work her hairband free, and her waves tumble down her back.

“I love your hair,” I say to her, turning my head to inhale the scent.

“Touchdown, right?” she says, and my head shoots up to the screen.

“Yeah,” I scream, wrapping my arm around Ella and pulling her forward with me.

“Oh, my God.” She laughs as I fall back to the cushions, taking her with me. “Now what?”

“Touchdown celebration,” I say although I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

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