Chapter 10
NOVA
Sleeping is hard. I toss and turn, agitated and hot.
I’m still cursing Clay the next morning.
He barely touched me, and I caught fire.
He was as cool as ever afterward, as if we shared dessert recipes last night instead of a scorching-hot kiss.
Even though I tried to shove him from my mind and my fantasies, he’s been the star ever since I met his gorgeous, grumpy ass.
So, this morning in the shower, I pictured him on his knees, begging me to forgive him for the mixed messages.
Last night wasn’t a date. He made it clear that he’s not looking for that.
Except every time we were close, he had zero problem staring.
Grumpy Baller: How’s the wrist?
The text came through when I got out of the shower. I named his contact that after I arrived home last night.
Another message followed half an hour later that was only two question marks. He probably expected me to jump at hearing from him.
I didn’t reply. I’ve got other things to do today than join the millions of people lining up for a glance from Clayton Wade.
“Nova?”
I look up from my borrowed car to find Harlan in the doorway of the garage, dressed impeccably in a dark suit and silk tie.
“Everything okay? I’m off to meet Mari and Chloe for a dress fitting.”
“Yes, I don’t want to keep you.” But he doesn’t move, and I wait him out. “The past few months, I’ve been focused on the team, and when the season starts, it’ll only get more intense. That’s why I want to give Mari a wedding she’ll never forget.”
I lean a hip against the car door. “It will be.”
“I want to surprise Mari with a gift. A new philanthropic program in her name to help kids with challenging upbringings find passions they can turn into careers. Do you think she’ll like it?”
My heart melts at his thoughtfulness and generosity. “She’ll love it.”
“Good. It’s becoming more of an undertaking than I thought, but I don’t want to let her in on the secret.
In a way, I blame myself for wanting to move ahead with this wedding instead of waiting.
But after she was passed over for that promotion last spring, she’s been working harder than ever, and if she gets promoted now, I’m afraid she’ll never take time off. ”
My smile falters as I remember when I got kicked out of my apartment for falling behind on rent last year. The job I was working at the time, the one before the agency, didn’t pay me for two months. They kept saying it was coming, but they went bankrupt first.
When my sister called and found out, she insisted on flying to Boston to help me fix it. She was dealing with extra projects at work but didn’t say anything about the promotion.
Harlan goes on, oblivious. “I was hoping to get your input on what I’ve put together.
Not from a programming perspective, just quick reactions and if there are any opportunities I’ve missed that might have special meaning for Mari.
I’d also like to consult with Robin, who runs our children’s camp for the Kodiak Foundation, but I haven’t had a moment. ”
I don’t want to be something Mari has to fix. I want to help her.
The MOH job might be taken, but I can do this.
“Let me help.”
His brows lift in surprise. “Are you sure? You’re doing more than enough.”
“Nonsense. I’d be happy to take a look, and I can also run it by Robin if you send me an introduction.”
He nods, looking as if a weight has been lifted from his tailored shoulders. “Mari’s lucky to have you.”
Pleasure courses through me.
“Maybe you could send pictures from the fitting?” he goes on.
“Don’t press your luck,” I call as I shift into the Volvo.
“What’re you drawing?”
Brooke’s voice makes my head snap up, and I cover my sketchbook.
She tugs it out of my fingers and her mouth drops open. Her dark eyes sparkle with delight. “This is really good. You’re an artist.”
“Thanks. I need more source material to finish it.”
Brooke’s lips curve. “I bet.”
This morning, I pulled out the sketchpad I haven’t used since I arrived in Denver and started drawing.
Back in art school, we’d start with a project in mind, an intention. Today, I let myself draw whatever came to me.
Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by the result.
The guy is up over a basketball rim, dunking. I haven’t started to add the tattoos, so there’s no way she can tell it’s Clay—I hope.
But having the pencils and paper in my hands again feels right. Even before this trip, I hadn’t drawn since Brad left. Maybe for a while before, actually.
Art has always been my way of connecting with the world. Now, it’s as if I’m picking up the phone and dialing a friend I haven’t spoken to in too long.
“Nova, you’re up.” Mari looks over from where she’s inspecting the fit of Chloe’s dress.
Chloe stands on the pedestal, looking stunning in a soft-pink gown that sets off her skin and dark hair.
“What’re you doing?” Mari asks.
“She’s daydreaming,” Brooke drawls, shooting me a little smile as she passes back the sketchbook.
I tuck it into my purse and get ready to try on my bridesmaid's dress.
“I wish you’d do your hair a natural color,” Mari says as I slip into the dress.
“Hot pink is found in nature. There are anemones that are exactly this shade.” I try to reach around but can’t find the zipper. “Can you—”
“I’ve got it.”
She zips me up the back, and I smile in thanks. Then I take in my reflection.
Brooke makes a catcall. “Nova, you look hot.”
I smooth my hands down the satin.
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” the seamstress says. “It was made for you.”
“Even with the hair?” I tease, and Mari rolls her eyes.
“Don’t push it.”
It feels like a girl squad moment. We’re bonding, and it’s good.
“Hey, Nova. Is this the design firm you work at?” Chloe holds up her phone.
I finish changing out of the dress and back into my street clothes before glancing over. “Yeah. Why?”
“Mari said there was a nice picture of you and your boyfriend since she hasn’t seen any pics lately.”
My stomach tightens. “Oh. They might have taken it down.”
She clicks around on her screen, then frowns. “You're not listed on the staff page. Neither is he.”
The pain in my chest is my heart thudding against my ribs.
I cross to Chloe, the fabric of the dress sliding over my skin, and look over her shoulder. They’ve deleted me from the page altogether.
“Nova?” Mari asks. There’s a note of dread in her voice, and it makes me feel worse.
I don’t want to do this here, in front of everyone, but they’re all looking at me.
“I’m on leave from work,” I say.
Mari inhales sharply. “And Brad?”
I shake my head. “He’s gone.”
“From the firm?”
“From everywhere. I haven’t seen him in two months.”
Three pairs of shocked eyes lock on me.
Mari’s mouth works. She sinks onto the chaise, blinking. “You lost your job?”
“I didn’t lose it. They put me on leave pending an investigation.”
“What did you do, Nova?”
A ball of shame rises up my throat, and the backs of my eyes burn. “I don’t… I can’t.”
I turn and run for the door.
At a coffee shop a few blocks away, I order a cappuccino to soothe my stomach.
When it comes to Mari, I always feel like a little kid. She has her shit figured out, and I’m the joke.
I was trying to avoid talking about Brad and work, but by keeping it from her, it's made things worse.
Even though I can’t hide out forever, right now I need the space. I pull open my sketchbook and pick up drawing where I left off.
My cell rings a few minutes in.
It’s not Mari.
Grumpy Baller calling.
I don’t feel like talking to him, but can’t bring myself to hit decline.
“You didn’t answer my text,” Clay says without waiting for a hello.
“And the state of my wrist was a national emergency?”
“Is it?”
I roll my wrist around. “No.”
I did ice it, and the treatment did help.
“Tell me what’s so important you didn’t text me back,” he says.
I groan. “Are you this bossy with your teammates?”
“I’m charmingly persistent.”
“Debatable.” But I take a breath and fill him in, feeling as though I’m confessing and burdening him way too much.
He listens, his silence punctuated with steady breathing.
“It was humiliating,” I finish. “I felt like I was ten all over again and she won the spelling bee and I didn’t make it past the second word—catastrophe. I carried around her trophy though.”
“That’s decent.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “And pretended it was mine.”
There’s a sound like a half laugh, half grunt. “Can’t see how it’s your sister’s business what you do. Who you date or where you work, either.”
The tight ball in my chest eases a bit. “We used to tell each other everything. I’m not sure when that changed.”
“You have to follow your own path. Everyone I went to school with wanted to be a doctor or a lawyer. Deciding to pursue basketball wasn’t the easy choice—it was the hard one.”
“It sounds lonely.”
“Sometimes being different is.”
My attention falls to my drawing. As ego-bruised as I am from last night, I’m not ready to hang up.
“Do you know anything about children’s charitable foundations?”
“Ask Chloe. The team’s foundation is part of her portfolio.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t want to involve her.”
I tell him I’m trying to learn to help out a friend but don’t admit it’s for Harlan.
From what my future brother-in-law said, he and Clay don’t have the best relationship.
Solving that is definitely beyond the scope of my powers, and at this point, I suspect that even asking about it would get me shut down fast.
“I’ve done some work with the foundation. I could answer your questions,” Clay says when I’m finished.
I’m surprised, both because I didn’t see anything in his profile about that and because he’s offering. “You kicked me out of your car last night, and now you’re offering to help.”
“I needed my beauty sleep.”
“Shouldn’t that be my line?”
There’s a pause.
“You get any prettier, it’s gonna be a problem.”
My heart skips.
A compliment from Clayton Wade? It’s like a diamond pried from the dirt.
That—and the safety of being miles away from him—makes me bold.
“I thought you might have had to get to other company. Like the Kardashian who texted you.”
“Huh?”
I wave a hand in the air. “Or whatever you call your hot-girl Kodiak groupies. Kodashians?”
He snorts. It feels good to have a joke with him.
“That’s it, your laugh for the day,” I point out.
“Right.”
“Unless maybe the photo didn’t include her left boob, so it was a no?”
This time, he chuckles out loud. “That would be a dealbreaker.”
“Oh no, that’s two laughs,” I warn. “A clear violation of the one-a-day rule.”
“Guess you’re my exception.”
I like the sound of that.
I survey the drawing in front of me again, glad he can’t see it.
“Good, because I’m not lining up like one of your Kodashians.”
“Never asked you to.”
“And I don’t care who you got off with last night,” I inform him, cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear as I start to add the tattoos on his shoulder.
His biceps are bigger, I’m sure of it.
I bite my lip and shade the contour accordingly.
“Then I don’t need to tell you it was a solo mission.”
My pencil bounces off my knee, clattering to the floor.
I uncross and recross my legs, feeling a delicious tug between my thighs as I imagine him lying back in bed, reaching into his sweatpants and wrapping his fist around his length.
Last night, he made it seem like he regretted the kiss. Today, he’s planting the image of him getting himself off squarely in my mind.
Someone hollers his name in the background.
I glance at the clock and realize we've been talking for fifteen minutes. “Are you in practice?”
“Yeah. I should go before Coach fines me.”
“He can do that?! Holy. Hurry and hang up.”
“I will.”
But I’m touched he ducked out to talk to me.
“Wait! Say hi to Miles for me,” I say as I bend to retrieve my pencil.
I’m rewarded with a huff. “The fuck is it with you and Miles?”
My grin widens. “We’re destined.”
When he answers, it’s a low rumble I feel as though he's pressed his lips to my skin.
“Wasn’t Miles you were clinging to last night.”
My core throbs.
I’m still tingling when he clicks off.
When I go back to my drawing, it turns out I can finish him from memory.