I sit taller and clutch his arm. “Oh my God, you did not just say Paul Hollywood.” Poking him now, I say, “Do you watch The Great British Baking Show?”

He shakes his head. “No. But Jason Orson talks about it all the time. He’s obsessed with cooking and baking. When he finishes an episode, he comes into the locker room speaking with the slightest British inflection and saying words like stodgy in sentences even though it doesn’t make sense. He’s also gone off about Paul Hollywood’s blue eyes.”

“I think Jason and I could be good friends, just from the interviews I’ve seen him do. It’s a shame he’s married.”

He raises a brow. “Looking to date one of my players?”

“No,” I say quickly and then think about it. “Well, I mean, not entirely no. Do any of them enjoy long walks on the shores of Lake Michigan picking up trash?”

“Doubtful.” He chuckles.

“Such a shame. All those muscles gone to waste.”

“When did you become such a muscle fanatic?” Maddox asks while sipping his hot chocolate.

“I’m not a muscle fanatic. Hell, have you seen Stan from the Feed and Seed? The only muscle that man has is in his pants.” I wiggle my eyebrows and Maddox cringes.

“Gross, Kin.”

“But I’ve seen a few of your players with their shirts off, as the Internet is a nice place for research, and I will say this, I wouldn’t balk if someone asked me out.”

“Why are you researching shirtless pictures of my teammates?”

I roll my eyes at his scowl. I reach out and press my fingers to his forehead, urging him to relax. “I wasn’t searching for shirtless pictures. I was trying to learn everybody’s names, so I don’t embarrass you while living here and when I was studying images, there were quite a few shirtless pics to stare at.” I shrug. “Not too shabby the Rebels.”

I don’t mention the picture I came across of Maddox with just a towel around his waist, chin tilted just slightly, his tattoos on full display, his body chiseled as if it was made from stone. There was his signature dark scruff framing his intense jawline, and a laziness in his eyes that was seductive, almost enticing people to come closer. It was one of the first times I realized my friend Maddox was a man. Not the boy I grew up with, but all muscular man.

Well-defined pecs, sculpted arms, tapered hips with that V carved in the side, and then a dusting of hair at the waistband of his towel. It was a hot picture and I’d felt incredibly awkward looking at it. It made something inside me tingle. I shouldn’t be tingling when it comes to Maddox, so I quickly clicked out of the image and moved on.

He doesn’t answer, just studies me, so I say, “And what if I wanted to stare at muscles? Why should I be shamed by that, Mr. I Love Big Boobs and Brunettes?”

He stares at me blankly. “I don’t love big boobs and brunettes.”

“Maddox.” I level with him. “I’ve known you for over twenty years, and I’m pretty sure I have a handle on your type at this point.”

I can see him thinking about it, as if he’s going through a rolodex of women in his head and as time clicks by, I see him realize that I’m right.

Laughing, I pat his leg and say, “Don’t worry, you haven’t fucked them all. There are plenty more big-boobed brunettes out there waiting to be introduced to your trouser snake.”

“Christ, Kinsley, don’t call it that.”

I laugh out loud and pick up a piece of bread for myself. “What do you call it?”

“Penis.”

“That’s so clinical. There has to be something else you call it?”

“Cock,” he says in such a low, deep tone that I almost shiver right on the spot.

Working my jaw to the side and skipping the intense eye contact he has right now, I ask, “Save that one for the bedroom?”

“Sometimes.”

And just like that, the air around us seems to shrink. We’re treading weird territory, so I change the subject. “I didn’t bring any blankets for Clyde. I hope you have some.”

He pops another chunk of banana bread in his mouth and chews, keeping his eyes trained on me the entire time. “Did you not bring any or did your mom refuse to let you take any?”

“Maybe a little of both?”

He chuckles and nudges me with his foot. “Got you covered, Kin.” He downs the rest of his hot chocolate and then sets his mug on the coffee table. “So, when do you start the new job?”

“Wednesday,” I say, feeling myself get hyped. “I’m so excited about this job, Maddie. Working at the shelter in Woodland was fulfilling, but I always felt like I was missing something, you know? Like I wasn’t doing enough, especially since Woodland is so small, there wasn’t a lot of intake. I’ve been wanting something new for a while, so when I saw the opening of Director of Intake at Finding Homes for Furry Friends, I had to apply.”

“Tell me exactly what they do? Find homes for people . . .”

I smile, loving and appreciating the interest he has in my world.

He’s a big-time baseball pitcher, someone who we’ll see in the Hall of Fame one day. His last name is plastered all over the backs of fans’ shirts, and his face on every Rebels promo material. He’s a staple of Chicago, but despite that, he can focus on my modest world.

“The mission is to serve the terminally ill by finding forever homes for their pets. It’s one of the things we tend to forget when a loved one passes, and even though relatives and friends would like to help out as much as they can, you’d be surprised how many pets end up in the shelter after their owner has passed. It’s very sad to think about. They were so loved and cherished, and then all of a sudden, they lose . . .” I get choked up and take a deep breath. Maddox reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Sorry.” I try to laugh it off. “There I go again, crying over animals.”

“Don’t apologize for having a kind heart, Kinsley. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

I give him a soft smile before saying, “These animals lost their best friends and then they’re put in these cold, concrete-lined shelters with a whole bunch of other animals they’ve never met before. It’s overwhelming and scary. Finding Homes is all about making sure those animals don’t have to face extra trauma.”

“It’s perfect for you,” Maddox says, his eyes trained on me. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you. I hope I can make an impact.” I push my hair behind my ear, feeling a little nervous from the intensity in Maddox’s expression, but then again, I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s always been one to give his undivided attention during a conversation, which is not something you see very often because of today’s technology.

“I know you will,” he says and then sighs. “I hate to cut this short, Kinny, but I have to get to bed. Early call in tomorrow.”

“I’m tired too. That bus trip was brutal.”

“Wait.” He pauses before getting up from the couch. “You took a bus down here?”

“A solar-powered bus. Isn’t that neat?”

Not even acknowledging my earth friendly travel, he says, “You brought Clyde on a bus?”

“Yup. I had to buy an extra ticket for one of my other bags, but it was well worth it.”

He blinks a few times and then shakes his head. “Kinsley, I could have flown you down here.”

“Pfft, no.” I wave my hand at him. “The bus was nice. I trolled Instagram and listened to one of my favorite podcasts, quite relaxing actually.”

Sighing, he stands and lends a hand out to me. I take it, and he lifts me up from the couch right before moving to a closet in his hallway. He snags some blankets and sheets for me and a pillow as well. “Want me to help you make the bed?”

“I got it.” I take the linens over to the cot where I set them down and then look at my two suitcases taking up the entryway. Maddox might make a lot of money, but he doesn’t flaunt it. He lives in a modest one-bedroom apartment—in a nice part of town—yet not too much space to ignore we both live here. When he suggested I move into it, I really was surprised.

Wincing a little, I say, “Are you sure about this, me staying here?”

“Positive.” He winks and grabs one of the suitcases to wheel it down to his bedroom. “I cleared out a small part of my closet for you and you can use one of the corners of my bedroom to house the rest of your stuff. I thought you could use the half bath for getting ready and brushing your teeth and all of that, so we’re not in each other’s way, but you can use my bathroom to shower obviously.”

“That works. Whatever you want. I don’t want to step on your toes. I want to make it so you don’t even notice that I’m here.”

“Not notice you’re here?” He looks me up and down. “That will be pretty much impossible, babe.” He nods toward his room. “Come on, let me show you where to put your stuff.”

“Good morning,” Maddox says from what I’m assuming is the kitchen. I groan and pull my blanket over my head. “Still not a morning person?”

“Mornings can go to hell,” I mumble into my plush pillow, my back aching and my toes freezing.

“Want some coffee?”