The Long Game (Seattle Sentinels #1)

Chapter Ten

Eight Months later…

Lexi

I can’t face the screen since I first settled on the channel.

I usually watch the sports network during the middle of the day in my office to give me a little break from current projects. It helps me to break concentration when I am hard at work with a new merger. Sometimes, a little distraction helps clear my head for that hour. Then I’m ready to attack the issues with a fresh thought.

I say I’m watching to see what they have to say about Luca, the QB for Indianapolis, but I’m lying to myself. I’m always hoping to catch any tidbit about Tucker Evans, their new RB. Traded to the team last year after Tucker’s injury…caused by me.

To my delight and horror, they are talking about Tucker and it’s all I can do to keep myself from looking back at the T.V. where they have a current team picture of him. I can’t help myself as I quickly glance back over my shoulder. God, he’s even more attractive than ever. Twenty-nine is definitely his prime panty-dropping age because he looks downright edible. Just like he looked the last time I saw him, being lifted into the back of an ambulance.

Besides the texts and calls Tucker sent after getting out of the hospital that I ignored out of complete embarrassment and heartbreak, he finally gave up.

No more calls.

No more texts.

He's finally given up on us and I don't blame him.

And now he's going to live less than three hours away and play with my brother again.

Staring out the large floor to ceiling windows of my executive corner office, the rain has started up again, and I’m reminded of another reason I am grateful for so much glass. Rain always has this way of soothing me. Especially when I’m cuddled up in my house, with a hot cup of chai spice tea in my hand while the living room fireplace pops and fizzles.

The identical skyrise across the park has a new tenant in the office directly across from mine. Both offices have wall-to-wall glass and on the corners of the building. Even though our offices are practically fishbowls, I know nothing about him.

I suspect he is younger than forty. Seems tall based on where his desk height reaches his thigh and looks to be in good shape. I see him in workout gear frequently.

He must work out on his lunch at the bottom level where a gym went into a vacant space a couple of years ago. I’ve never seen him leave the building, but after lunch sometimes he works in his gym shorts for a few hours before changing. Is it creepy that I've studied his daily habits?

He’s either a workaholic or he’s working on some huge merger. He’s already here when I get to work, and I leave before he does. Since I’m putting in at least sixty hours a week, it’s obvious he’s putting in more.

He waves at me most mornings when he sees me coming in. And if I catch his eye before I leave, I wave goodbye before I go home. He moved into the building across the way a few months ago so I have yet to cross paths with him while leaving my building.

I’m not sure who initiated the first wave, but I never noticed the people working across the way until he moved in. So maybe it was him? Either way, I find myself looking forward to the brief human connection. There are so many days I’m locked up in my office working through paperwork that he might be one of the only souls I see, Besides the barista downstairs in the coffee shop, and the assistant who drops off lunch orders for those of us too swamped to think for ourselves.

I smile as he waves in greeting. I hope he doesn’t think I’ve been standing at the window trying to get his attention. I’m trying to ignore the shit talking going on behind me about my lifelong crush and the potential career ending accident that was definitely my fault.

I’ve never been able to stomach anyone talking trash about Luca or Tucker. It hits me hard when I hear them poking holes in Tucker’s work ethic.

"Evans needs to get his head in the game. He just doesn’t have the heart for the game anymore. Maybe it’s time for him to retire. He’s not playing like he did before his injury; it’s like his head is somewhere else. He had a good run. Seven years in the NFL is something to be proud of but if he wants to have a legacy left…it’s time to hang up the cleats."

I look away from the glass windows and turn the T.V. off. This was not the distraction I needed from work. All Tucker has ever wanted is football, and the reason he has an injury to hold him back is because of me.

One Week Later…

Almost a year ago, I accomplished a huge goal. I bought a brownstone a few blocks from my parents. It’s in a highly sought-after neighborhood, and I couldn’t have gotten this home without the help of Sabrina, Tucker’s older half-sister. She worked tirelessly to find a listing when there weren’t any to be found and negotiated an incredible sale for a home that was currently a rental. The owners were ready to retire, and she moved quickly to get a deal written up before it ever made it to the open market. She literally pulled a nonexistent listing out of thin air. She’s a freaking magician.

It’s not nearly as large, or as newly renovated as my parents’, but being in the industry that I’m in, I know that most things can be changed. As the saying goes, "Location, location, location".

My dad, who originally started out with a small construction business, spent many of his weekends over the last eight months helping me do a few small renovations. Eventually I will do an overhaul, but I am still building my portfolio for when the V.P. of Acquisitions position comes open. I don’t have any energy to spend on major construction projects. Dad’s little fixes will get me by for now.

With pressure seeming to be coming at me from all sides, I’ve been running a lot lately. I used to run a few times a week, but now it’s a morning routine I need to help me destress before the day begins. Ever since I bought my first home within running distance of my parents’ house, it’s the highlight of my run to zip past my childhood home.

I had an early morning conference call I decided to take at my home office. This delayed my usual six am run. As my watch reads eight-thirty, I’m just now stepping out of my front door to start my run. Just about at the half mile mark, I turn the corner to the street my parents live on. I notice a newer, lifted grey chevy pickup truck.

It’s not a vehicle I’ve seen parked outside of their house before. Yet my father, occasionally, has meetings with contractors at his house. This has been happening in higher frequency since he’s been working towards retirement. However, this truck looks like it hasn’t hauled a single bag of concrete or a two-by-four in its short life.

As I run past the house, I’m immediately aware that the person coming to see my dad must have just arrived, because he’s standing at the front of the door, still waiting for my parents to answer.

The hulk of a man is wearing a backwards hat, which seems slightly juvenile for the age I’m guessing he must be. But in his defense, I’m only seeing his backside – an extraordinary backside, might I add.

Still running but at a slightly slower pace to get a closer look at the incredibly fit company my dad has invited over, I quickly sense I’ve seen this body standing at the exact height at the door frame before.

He’s standing the way I swear I’ve seen him stand there for most of my life.

A panic starts to set in. My stomach hits my throat. I’ve almost ran completely past my parents’ home to where visibility of the house guest would be out of sight. I stop and turn around, dumb founded with an almost out-of-body experience. It’s not long before the Greek God of a man feels my eyes on him and turns around.

At first, he’s obviously curious about the runner stopping mid stride to gawk at him. His face turns into a familiar smile. A smile that only Tucker Evans can pull off. Cocky but sincere. The picture of a man you can trust but also a face you should know is about to get you in a whole lot of trouble.

His eyes brighten and his smile turns to pure delight. How could he possibly be happy to see me after I just about ended his career? One thing’s for sure, my traitorous nipples are also happy to see him as they harden under his watch.

He turns and takes a few steps back towards the street, to the wrought iron staircase, gripping it and leaning over to get a better look at the confused, heavily panting, sweaty woman in running gear staring back at him. I can only imagine what I must look like.

“Lexi!” He calls out with a wide smile.

I don’t answer back. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing at this point.

He starts to scan me quickly, taking an extra second to stop at my breasts and then hips. He grips the railing a little tighter while he takes me in, causing his biceps and forearms to flex and twitch.

The large vein along his forearm is bulging and even though I know I’m wet from sweating, there’s an area between my legs that is suddenly wet for a different reason. His eyes reach me again and his smile turns warm and sexy.

“You look…” he tries to finish but the front door starts to open and as soon as Tucker looks back towards the door, I’m gone.

No way am I getting caught by my dad standing out front of his house. He would have asked me to join them, I’m sure of it. And there is no way for him to have known that my awkwardness to standing in the same room as Tucker Evans would be due to the last ten years of sex-fueled confusion between us. Not to mention the accident last year where Tucker’s knee went toe-to-toe with the bumper of a Toyota Camry, sending him to the hospital and potentially ending his career.

No way they are getting me in that house. They’d have to catch me first. And being that Tucker is the fastest NFL running back in the league, he could probably do just that. Better give myself a head start – just in case.

My impromptu run in with Evans is unsettling. I decide to take the longer route back home to avoid another scenario. I wouldn’t put it past Tucker to wait for me. I take a cold shower to shock myself out of spending the rest of the day thinking about him. Hopefully it works because I have so much riding on this merger.

Burning the midnight oil at both ends, with my workload and renovating my house, caffeine has become my best friend. It's half past ten, and I need a caffeine boost. I walk into the coffee shop at the bottom level of my building. A voice starts up behind me but I’m sure I’ve never heard the deep husky, almost sexy voice behind me. I glance back almost expecting the man to be talking to someone else. But he’s not…he’s talking to me.

"Nice to finally see you exist outside of your office." He smiles at me and offers his hand to shake. "Sebastian Clark…the guys from the office across the courtyard."

It finally clicks where I know this gorgeous face from.

"Oh my god! Hi!" I shake his hand.

"Sort of thought at this point we were never going to meet. Which would have been a shame because you are even more beautiful up close. I didn’t think it was possible."

"What a compliment," I say, tucking my loose hair behind my ear. I’m used to compliments but not regularly from guys that look like him. He’s drop dead gorgeous. Incredible jawline line and perfect cheekbones, full lips, six-foot plus, and a body that suggests he puts in work at the gym regularly.

I don’t miss the pretty brunette that just walks by with her coffee in hand, scanning him like a construction worker eyeing a pretty girl walking down the street. I’m half surprised she doesn’t cat-call as she passes.

"Lexi Benson," I introduce. "I’m a bit surprised we haven’t run into each other before this, myself."

I step up to order my drink. Coffee with cream and a shot of vanilla. He speaks over my shoulder and asks for the same, handing the barista cash for both. I smile and thank him.

As we head to the other side for our drinks, we fill each other in quickly about our line of work. He’s an Intellectual Property Lawyer for a huge Law Office that represents big corporate companies. His dealings are with domestic and international affairs, which makes sense for his long days as he works with all different time zones.

I tell him about my line of work, and he has several follow-up questions. He seems genuinely curious about what I do.

He checks his watch quickly.

"Shoot. I really enjoyed running into you and I’d like to talk a little more, but I have a call with a client in twenty minutes that I need to prepare for," he says reluctantly. I can see it in his face that he is truly disappointed to end our conversation.

"No problem. Now that I know about your mid-morning caffeine fix, I’m sure I’ll see you again," I joke.

"I’ll be keeping a lookout." He winks. "See you soon, Lexi Benson."

He takes a sip of his coffee and walks towards the door. He makes a show of taking in the flavor of the coffee.

"Vanilla… huh, it suits you." He opens the door for another woman coming into the coffee shop and then turns to leave.

For the first time in a long time, I might be ready to move on. To let myself truly consider someone other than Tucker Evans. And maybe Sebastian Clark might be the man for the job.