Free Coming Apart at the Seams by Jenna Sutton

definitely seen better days. They were frayed at the bottom, and one of the pockets was missing.
    She wondered if his shorts were loose enough to slip her hand in the waistband and run her fingers across his abs. Saliva pooled in her mouth at the thought of what might be under his shorts. She wanted a peek, just so her fantasies would have some basis in reality.
    Pulling her gaze from his drool-worthy body, she found him staring at a picture of the moon with a rapt expression. She imagined he’d sported the same look when he was a little boy.
    â€œYou wanted to be an astronaut when you grew up. Am I right?”
    â€œYeah,” he answered without taking his eyes off the picture.
    â€œWhy did you want to be one?”
    He met her eyes. “Because the moon”—he cleared his throat—“is far away.”
    â€œAnd you wanted to be far away?”
    He nodded, his eyes shadowed. He moved to stand in front of a glass display case that held a Project Mercury spacesuit, helmet, and boots.
    Teagan digested his answer. She knew his mother had died when he was young, too young to remember her. She couldn’t imagine growing up without a mother. She was a daddy’s girl, but she and her mom had a special relationship, too.
    â€œWhen did you stop wanting to be an astronaut?”
    â€œI didn’t.”
    She frowned, wondering why he played football if he wanted to be something else. She strongly believed people should follow their dreams.
    â€œDid you ever think of pursuing it?” she asked, moving to the next part of the exhibit, a lunar sample that was brought back to Earth by the Apollo 15 mission.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œToo tall.”
    She’d never considered Nick’s height might be an issue. How strange that one of the things that made him a great wide receiver also prevented him from being an astronaut.
    â€œYou?” he asked.
    She cocked her head. “What?”
    â€œYour little-girl dreams.”
    â€œOh, I wanted to be a ballerina, just like thousands of other little girls. But I changed my mind when I was twelve or thirteen.”
    â€œBecause?”
    When she didn’t answer, he turned to spear her with his light green gaze. He raised his eyebrows, a silent question.
    â€œObviously, I don’t have the body of a ballet dancer,” she replied, laughing self-consciously.
    Nick’s eyes narrowed before dropping to her chest, and she resisted the urge to shield her breasts with her sweater. She wasn’t ashamed of her body, not exactly, but it was certainly more
robust
than she would have liked.
    â€œNo,” he said slowly. “You don’t.”
    Teagan wished she had lied and told him that she had wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “When do you leave for training camp?”
    â€œTomorrow.”
    â€œOh! I didn’t know it was so soon.”
    Nodding, he clasped her elbow to move her out of the wayas a large mass of people walked by. He dropped his hand to her waist, and the heat of it burned through her thin sundress.
    They’d reached the end of the special exhibit, and he ushered her out the door with a hand on her lower back. He touched her a lot, casual contact that didn’t matter to him but made her heart beat faster.
    Once they were back in the museum’s main area, she turned to him. Although she rarely bought anything at museum gift shops, she had a hard time bypassing them.
    â€œI want to stop by the gift shop before we leave.”
    He groaned, and she shook her head in exasperation. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll meet you out front,” she promised.
    He nodded and walked off, but she called him back after only a few steps. “I need my purse.”
    Grinning, he handed it over before heading outside. She turned toward the gift shop, and she’d barely stepped over the threshold before she spotted something