When I Need You (Need You #4)(20)

"Really?"

"It's a perfect setup for him. He can grow his own and still take on web design clients because there's not a lot to do in the winter months." I shoved my plate aside and decided to start boxing up leftovers, when I noticed there weren't any. The man had put away a serious amount of food and he was staring longingly at the brownies. "You want yours now?"

"Yes. Man, I love homemade brownies." He brought the garbage can over, sweeping everything into the trash in one fell swoop.

Guess that was one way to clear a table.

Jensen returned with a gallon of whole milk and two glasses. "Want some?"

"Half a glass."

"Then you should only get half a brownie. It's sacrilegious not to enjoy them with milk."

"Who told you that?"

"My grandpa Jensen. He lives in Sweden and the man is serious about his sweets. No coffee or tea with his fika or dessert. Just cold milk."

I smiled and cut my brownie, giving him half. "Far be it from me to buck a family tradition."

"Rowan, I was kidding-"

"No, I'm stuffed and I've had more than my fair share of brownies this week, so you enjoy."

"Thanks."

After I took a small bite and a swig of milk, I said, "You're named after your grandpa?"

"Jensen is his last name. When he's around, my family usually calls me Jens 'cause Gramps tends to answer if someone yells Jensen."

"I imagine so."

"This brownie is freakin' fantastic."

I poured myself more wine. "Thanks for buying dinner."

"Happy to have your company tonight." He frowned. "You don't have to rush off?"

"No. I can stay a little longer."

"Good. The couch is comfier than these chairs."

I carried my glass and the wine bottle into the living room. Jensen pulled the back section apart so I didn't have to climb over. "What is with you and this enormous couch? One might think you were overcompensating." You did not just say that.

Jensen granted me a sexy smile as he vaulted over the edge one handed. "Bigger is always better, baby."

I wouldn't know about that.

"The last place I lived, the interior designer chose a dinky-ass couch and two spindly chairs for a living room four times the size of this entire apartment. Some ‘modern concept' that I stupidly agreed to because what do I know about interior design?"

When he blushed and ducked his head after admitting his ineptitude . . . heaven help me. It was so sweet and charming and humble.



       
         
       
        

"The furniture was too small for a guy my size. I spent all my time in my bedroom because at least I could stretch out on my big bed and watch TV. I swore the next place I lived I'd pick out furniture I wanted. Comfortable stuff so I wouldn't give a damn if beer or pizza got spilled on it. Who wants to live in a fucking museum? Not me. Not ever again."

"I figured with your salary you could live anywhere you wanted, so that's why I thought this wouldn't be your main residence."

"I hadn't realized how much I hated where I was living until after my injury and it felt like the same sterile environment as a hospital. Then I started hanging out here with Axl and got to know Martin. I discovered I was much happier and more myself in this place, so I moved in when Axl shacked up with Annika." He sighed. "Still haven't gotten the dog I wanted."

"What kind of dog?"

"Probably a mutt from the pound. A big mutt."

Sipping my wine, I wondered if I could ask him what I wanted to know, if he'd meant his insistence of honesty between us.

"Don't go quiet on me now, Coach. If you ask a question I don't want to answer, I won't."

"You were born rich and grew up in a mansion. A lavish lifestyle has to be the norm for you. Is this an experiment in how the common people live?"

He laughed-it wasn't a nice sound. "Wow. Okay. When I introduce you to my parents you'll kick your own ass for the assumptions."

That startled me. Why would he want me to meet his parents?

"My family is grateful I'm not in an assisted-living facility because I was permanently paralyzed."

"I wasn't trying to be a dick, Jensen."

"I know. But that question is also why I don't invite many of my teammates to hang out here. They'd all be like . . . ‘Man, why you slumming? Why'd you give up that sweet crib with the million-dollar river view for this dump?' I also get asked why I even take a salary. I could just play football for free. It's not like I need the money."