His teammate stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Isn’t that a bad idea? Like, she’s not gonna respect you if you do whatever she wants at the drop of a hat.”

“How bad are you at fingering?”

Psycho ignored him. “What’s your next move?”

“No idea. I was sloppy.”

“Drunk?”

“No, just…” Willow picked up a couch cushion and pressed it to his middle. He couldn’t explain the sick, surreal feeling he’d had on the dance floor, like he’d overshot his luck and at any second Eden would tell him to get the fuck away from her.

“So, you bailed on her?”

“No, you showed up off your gourd and I had to take you home.”

“Why didn’t you get her number?”

Because she’d been standing on the dance floor, light shining around her, looking like an angel. So far out of his league, he felt bad for staring. It was an old feeling, a new feeling, and it was so petrifying, he’d bundled up Psycho and run away like a scared little virgin.

“Willow…?”

He looked up at his moulded light fixtures. “I panicked. I let her go and now I’m never gonna see her again.”

Psycho laughed. “Are you serious? DM her. The future is now, old man.”

“No way.”

“Why not? She’s obviously into you.”

Willow glared at him. “I know you feel like a fuckhead about last night, but don’t butter me up.”

“I’m not! She hooked up with you!”

But Eden probably hooked up with tonnes of guys. Probably hooked up with someone the second he was gone. Why wouldn’t she? She was fucking incredible.

“Willow…? Willow…? Sloan…?”

He grimaced. “Fuck, Psycho. Only my dad calls me that.”

“Sorry, you’re just scaring me.”

Willow pressed his palms into his eye sockets. “I know. I’m freaking out.”

“Why though?”

“Because I don’t just want to DM Eden, I want to…”

“You want to…?”

“Brush her hair! Hold her hand while we walk along the beach! Get matching Scotland rugby jumpers and wear them while we watch the Six Nations...” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’m in love with her.”

“Mate…”

“Do not,” he warned. “I’m out of my mind and I will hurt you.”

Psycho held up his hands in surrender. “Fucking hell.”

It was too soon for love, Willow knew that. But it was the only word that described how he felt. He was thirty-three. He’d been around the block so many times he wasn’t sure there were new ways to feel about someone. But when Eden kissed him, when he felt her tongue on his, he’d been filled with a hot certainty—this is it. The girl. I’m for her.