She adjusted the seat belt as she twisted in her seat.

“Okay, I’m changing the subject here, Twenty-Three, so keep up. When that woman came to our table at the café the other day, she mentioned that you should consider coaching for the Longhorns. After this morning, I think maybe she’s on to something.”

He glanced at her with a sour expression.

“Seriously,” Taylor said. “I was impressed listening to you talk to those players. And remember, I know nothing about football.”

“Just because I can babble on about football for a few minutes doesn’t mean I’m fit to be anyone’s coach.”

“You did more than just babble,” she said. “You were inspiring. I could tell those players were taking your words to heart. If you don’t want to be a coach, maybe you can be a motivational speaker because you really are good at it.”

“You do realize if I did either of those things I would no longer need you as a trainer, right? Are you trying to talk your way out of this job again?”

“Oh, for the love of Jason Momoa! Would you stop reading the wrong thing into everything I say? I was paying you a compliment.” She looked up at the SUV’s ceiling and sighed. “You’re a good speaker. That’s all I was trying to say.”

His mouth tipped up in a grin. “In that case, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Taylor said with an eye roll. She pretended to look out the window so he wouldn’t see her answering grin. He was exasperating. Cute, but exasperating.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment complex. Jamar started to get out of the car, but Taylor stopped him.

“There’s no need for you to play the gentleman,” she said. “I can make it to my apartment by myself.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jamar said, unsnapping his seat belt. He came around the front of the SUV, and even though she’d already opened her door, he held it out for her. “When I was twelve, my mom signed me up for this program on proper etiquette at our church. It’s ingrained.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Taylor said. “A little corny, but sweet. You’re still not walking me to my door.”

“Sorry.” He hunched his shoulders. “Those are the rules.”

“Fine,” Taylor said. She should add infuriating to his list of qualities.

It wasn’t until they started up the stairs that Taylor acknowledged the discomfort that had begun to prickle at her scalp. Who could blame her for feeling self-conscious about her little studio apartment after visiting Jamar’s massive house?

When they arrived at the landing, Taylor turned to him and said, “Thanks for walking me to my door. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you really not going to invite me in?”