Page 92 of Play the Last Card

Then he’s gone.

I tuck the phone between my legs, lean back into the couch cushions and close my eyes.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

It’s only a little bit of snow. It won’t be that thick by the time he lands back in Boston. He’ll be fine.

Did he get snow tires put on his car?

I didn’t ask.

Fuck, why didn’t I ask?

He probably does. He would know to put snow tires on the car … right?

I reach for my phone, planning to send off a quick text to him and ask about the snow tires. I can’t sit hit here for the next four hours whilst he flies home, thinking about whether or not he has the right fucking tires on his car.

Before I can start typing out a message my phone vibrates in my hand.

Scott: *Scott has started sharing his live location with you.*

Scott: I’ll see you before midnight. Wait up for me.

Yep.

I’m inlove with this man.

***

I watch his little blue dot get closer and closer to mine on the phone. It’s almost midnight. I’ve been refreshing my phone since Scott landed an hour ago. I’m still in a small state of shock that he even turned the location on in the first place. Katie doesn’t even have Grant’s location on her phone.

It’s like Scott heard the anxiety in my voice and knew, without asking, exactly what I needed from him.

I refresh the map and the blue dot jumps just as lights from a car turning into the driveway flashes down the front hallway.

Anticipation and excitement buzz through me. He only left thirty-six hours ago but it feels far too long to be apart.

I uncurl from the couch, toss my phone onto the coffee table and head down the hallway before I even hear the car door slam. Cold air rushes inside, making me shiver. I’m only in an oversized sweatshirt—one I stole from Scott—and fluffy socks.

Scott’s hair is trapped under his signature black cap. He holds his overnight bag in one hand and his phone in the other, staring at something on his screen. When he gets close enough, I smile, rolling on the balls of my feet.

“Hey, you.”

His head snaps up and his gaze locks on mine. He shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweats. A few more strides and he’s standing in front of me, a few steps down so we’re eye to eye. He drops a peck on my lips. “Hi.”

Without dropping his bag, he reaches his free hand around my waist, skimming down until he cups my ass and lifts me up.

I squeal, wrapping my arms around him. I press my body into his and bury my face into his neck, giggling. He carries me inside, kicking the door shut with one foot and dropping his bag. He presses me into the wall near the stairs, wedging my body between him and the wall with my legs wrapping tightly around his hips.

He kisses me hard and messy. His tongue begs for entry and I open for him. I rip off his cap and my fingers sink into his hair. When he rips a moan from my throat, he swallows it.

We stand there, stealing each other’s breaths for god knows how long before Scott slows things down. He drags his lips against my jaw.

“Fuck, but I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin. He doesn’t pull back or move away. He stays close, like he’s trying to weld me to him.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, also not pulling away from him. “Good game, QB. How was your flight?”

“You watched?” His voice is muffled against my neck but there is no way I can miss the pride in his voice.