Chapter Seven
Nick untangled himself from Alex, disbelief and lust running wild through his veins. Part of him couldn’t believe she’d actually said yes to heading back to his hotel room.
The request had slipped out in the heat of the moment, and as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, he’d braced for her refusal. And the slap in the face he deserved for blurting it out like an asshole.
Except, she hadn’t done either of those things. She’d said yes.
What a lucky bastard.
He stared at her. She was gorgeous, with her sun-kissed hair and her kiss-swollen lips. He wanted to kiss her again. Show her how much he wanted her, how much he appreciated her.
Instead, he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. Rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and silky. Everywhere. His fingertips still tingled from when he’d brushed the skin of her back.
And if he didn’t stop thinking about her skin, he was going to be walking funny. As it was, he was already semi-hard. He’d never been happier that his coat was long enough to cover the front of his jeans.
Hand in hand, they walked back the way they’d come. She leaned against him, her head resting against his upper arm. The moment felt intimate and special. Whatever was between them probably should have freaked him out, but for some reason, he was calm. Everything about this moment felt… right.
Like they were supposed to find each other again. Like what they’d had before, when they were kids, was the start of something, but the timing was wrong. So the universe pushed them apart, had them live their lives, just waiting for the moment to be right.
And he needed to stop being such a fucking sap.
He pulled her to a stop at the edge of the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change so they could cross. The trek down from the Market hadn’t seemed that long, but now, the way back seemed to stretch on forever.
He’d taken an Uber this morning. However, she’d parked in the parking garage at the Market, so they needed to make their way back there so she could grab her car.
Part of him was afraid that, by the time they got back to the parking garage, she was going to come to her senses and tell him she’d changed her mind and he could fuck off.
Someone to his right shouted, and he looked over just in time to see an asshole on a bike headed right for them. He wrapped his arms around her and spun them around so she was out of the line of fire.
His bad knee twisted, shooting a streak of pain down his leg.
“Fuck.” The curse came out as a growl. He shifted his weight onto his good leg, although the pain in his knee had already stopped.
Alex, who’d turned to glare at the asshole on the bike, snapped her gaze back to him. Her eyebrows slammed together, her professional mask descending so fast, he wanted to scream in frustration.
“What happened?” She searched his face and then dropped her gaze to his bad leg. “Your knee.” Not a question, a statement.
She squatted down, running her hands over his denim clad leg. Dammit, this was not how he wanted this afternoon to go. And definitely not how he wanted her touching him when she was on her knees.
Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about that shit. This was already embarrassing enough.
“It’s fine.” His voice came out way scratchier and snappier than he intended.
She looked up at him. He was struck again by how beautiful she was. How badly he wanted to rewind and go back to just the two of them on the pier.
She shook her head. “We can’t take that chance.
” She stood up and pulled her phone out of her shoulder bag.
“This is too important. I’m recommending an MRI, just to make sure.
” She pushed a button on her phone and lifted it to her ear.
“Hi, yes, this is Alex Dumont. I’m a local strength and conditioning coach and I have a patient that is five months post op on an unhappy triad who may have reinjured the joint. We need an MRI ASAP.”
He rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb. Tension crept into his back and neck. He gingerly placed a little more pressure on his bad leg. No immediate acute pain, which was good. It was really more like a dull ache.
Fuck.
Why hadn’t he been paying closer attention? This could have been avoided if he’d been conscious of his surroundings. Or if he hadn’t been so enamored by Alex.
This is why you shouldn’t be letting yourself get distracted. You’ve worked too hard to have it all end because of you let your cock lead the show.
Jesus, what if this was a huge setback to his recovery? It didn’t feel too bad, but that didn’t mean anything. He needed to get back in the lineup before the end of the season. That was all that mattered, and he’d better fucking start remembering that.
She ended the call and tucked the phone back into her bag. “They’ll be able to get you in this afternoon.”
“Okay,” he said, because really, what else could he say?
“I’ll call us a cab. I can come back and get my car after.”
He glanced at her. She must have realized the way that sounded, because her eyes widened a touch. “I mean later.”
“Okay.”
She waited a beat, her gaze searching his face. Her shoulders slumped. The movement was slight, but he saw it.
An ache wound its way through his chest. He knew he was being curt, and a huge asshole, but honestly, it was better this way. He’d gotten carried away and let himself get off track. This was his wake-up call.
She fished out her phone again and walked a few yards down the block. He could have sworn the air between them iced over. She kept her back to him. He couldn’t help but stare. Her back was straight, her shoulders tense. So very unlike the way she’d melted against him earlier.
Which he wasn’t thinking about.
Unable to take it any longer, he turned away, pushed the disappointment seeping through him aside. Winning the championship was the only thing that mattered. Even if he was having a hard time remembering exactly why right now.
Alex ushered Nick into the townhouse and closed the front door, hanging her keys on the rack. Unlike last night, the house was silent. She didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Em?” Her voice sounded echoey in the silence. She slipped off her coat and hung it in the front closet. He kicked off his shoes and started on his coat. She glanced at her watch. It was almost eight o’clock. Em had better be here, or she was going to be in so much trouble.
He hung his coat in the closet and slid the door closed. The space in the foyer was tight, especially with him being so large. The need to reach out, to touch him, to run her hands along his arm or his back or his chest made her fingers tingle.
She clenched her fists to stop from doing something stupid.
He was staring at her, his expression pretty darn blank. She honestly didn’t know what to do.
So, she decided to play it cool. Just like he was.
She wandered into the darkened living room. The light over the stove was on—it was something she’d always done, no matter where she and Em lived—and it was a signal of home.
The fact Em had left it on for her made her want to cry. Then again, maybe the water works were because of the rollercoaster of a day she’d just endured.
Things had been going great. She’d been nervous and excited and so turned on she could hardly stand it. And then that stupid cyclist had almost run them over.
As soon as he’d hurt himself, it was like a switch had flipped inside of him. He went from warm and open to icy and distant.
“Em, are you here?” She waited. Nothing. She snapped on the lamp on the end table next to the sofa. He stood in the space between the foyer and the living room. She swallowed hard. He looked almost lost.
She had no idea what to do with that. One crisis at a time.
“Have a seat and I’ll grab you some ice. Remote’s on the table.” She waved in the direction of the sofa.
“You don’t have to do this, Alex. I can go back to the hotel. It’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “You told me the doctor said to watch in case of any changes in size or color of the joint. I want to keep an eye on it, make sure there’s no severe swelling or anything.”
For a second, he looked like he wanted to argue. A shot of adrenaline spiked her veins. But then he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked at the floor instead.
The move pushed his jeans lower on his hips, and she had to bite her bottom lip to stop from making a noise.
Clearly, he’d changed his mind about taking their relationship to the next level—if you could even call what they had a relationship—and she wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.
As Janelle liked to remind her, she was good at keeping people at a distance.
It was time she took advantage of that well-honed skill.
Without waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do, she spun and headed into the kitchen. The open plan of the townhouse meant they were still basically in the same room, but even putting a little distance between them made it easier for her to breathe.
She grabbed a gel ice pack out of the freezer—with Em around, they’d been a staple in the house since she started walking—and a clean dish towel from the drawer.
By the time she got back to the living room, he was seated on the sofa. But there was nothing relaxed about him. He sat straight, his shoulders and back tight. Both of his feet planted firmly on the floor, hands folded in his lap.
She sat on the coffee table facing him and placed the pack and the towel next to her. He stared at her, that stupid, blank expression on his stupid, handsome face.
“Here.” She leaned over him to grab a throw pillow. He sucked in a quick, quiet breath—one she probably wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been practically sitting in his lap. And it absolutely did not make her giddy that he wasn’t as closed off as he appeared.
She plopped the pillow on the edge of the table. “Leg up.”
“Really, Alex, we don’t have to do this. I’m just going to go.” He shifted, like he was going to get up.