“I do. But that was different. You two were soulmates and couldn’t see it, so I was right to meddle,” I reply. “But that’s not the case with Wyatt and me. We’ve been down that road, as you know, and it didn’t lead anywhere.”
“Maybe not in the past. But what if now…” Her eyes drift to Wyatt and then back to me.
It’s hard to feel annoyed at someone who’s rooting for a second chance romance. That’s my favorite trope in movies, too, but they just don’t happen in real life. Certainly not with Wyatt and me.
“There are things that don’t change, no matter how much time passes,” I say.
I’m right; I know I am.
Though Wyatt claims that I wasn’t just a dalliance to him, I’m still unsure whether I can believe that. And even if I did, it doesn’t change the fact that Wyatt gave up on us for his career and never looked back. Feeling guilty for a choice doesn’t equal regretting it.
So even if I’m ready to let go of my past hurt and turn the page with Wyatt, our new chapter can’t be anything else but pure friendship.
Our almost-kiss comes back to mind, and my throat dries out.
Laia caresses my arm. “Okay, sweetie. You know best what happened and what might happen between you two.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
We step back over to the guys, and my eyes wander to Wyatt.
My heart gives out a beat that echoes even in my ears. I withdraw my gaze.
I might have convinced Laia, but my battle isn’t over. I still have to persuade that mushy part of my soul that whatever dreamy vision I saw when I watched Wyatt playing football with the kids isn’t going to happen.
If I can do that, I should be safe.
Chapter 20
(Wyatt)
The rising sun tints the path in a subtle golden hue, making me imagine that I’m an emperor arriving at my promised land. Even if, knowing Joe’s passion for running, my thighs will hurt by the time we’re done.
And it’s likely that I won’t feel victorious, but exhausted.
Devon’s presence won’t mitigate the risks either. My friend might not be a professional athlete, but he still keeps a rather vigorous schedule for his runs.
I park my Corvette beside Joe’s rental motorbike. It’s a fast drive model, almost identical to the one he owns in Georgia. I only rode with him once on the back of it, but Joe’s style of rolling left and right felt as if I were hooked on a traveling coffin.
While I exit my car, Joe’s doing stretching exercises besides a large cactus. One of his brown muscular legs rests on a tall rock, and his fingers brush the sandy path as he bends forward to warm up his extensors.
When he sees me approaching, he straightens and grins. “I usetacould touch my toes, believe it or not.”
“Oh, you’re quite the ballerina still.” I grin.
Joe laughs. “Yeah, if you’d only loan me your blondie waves, my look would be perfect.”
“Not a chance,” I say, brushing through my hair.
We tap each other on the shoulder.
“How was New Orleans?” I ask.
“Good. I spent time with Momma and visited a few pals. I also met Brittany’s new boyfriend.”
“Your sis introduced him to you? Willingly? Wow, he must be a keeper, this one.”
Joe’s sisters all try to keep their brother away from the men they date. My friend has his own standards for who’s allowed to be with his sisters, and in the past, he’s scared away quite a few guys who didn’t sit well with him.
Joe tilts his head back and forth. “He’s okay. A Yankee, though. But Britt’s fallen for him hook, line, and sinker, so Momma has forbidden me from saying anything.”
I give him a soothing smile. “The most important thing is that your sis likes him, right? And that he treats her well.”
A fierce light flashes in Joe’s eyes. “He better. Otherwise, I’m going to jerk a knot in his tail.”
I cover my eyes. “Ugh, you’ll put nightmares into my mind.”
Joe laughs then taps me on the head. “How about you? Is your brain re-wired already?”
“I’m still working on it.”
Joe takes a step back and gives me a slow once-over. “Well, I’d say that something has definitely changed about you. You seem less…I’m not sure what…” He clicks his tongue twice. “I know. That quivering on your cheek that made you look like you were gritting your teeth 24/7 is gone.”
Is this greater ease Ellie has unleashed in me visible to others too?
“I didn’t even realize I had that,” I say sheepishly.
“You did. Each time when we spoke about my retirement plans.”
I snap my fingers. “Actually, good thing you reminded me. Do you know if applications to that coaching course you took last year are continuous?”
Joe’s eyebrows jump up, making three thick lines appear on his forehead. “Don’t tell me you want to attend?”
I shrug. “Maybe. You think it’s a bad idea?”
“What? Are you plumb crazy? It’s a great idea. If anybody has the balls in the sack to become a brilliant coach, it’s you.” He sniffs. “I’m just as lost as last year’s Easter egg, because I’ve told you at least a million times to take advantage of the training the league offers, but you never listened. What changed?”
I scratch my head. “Not sure. Maybe I just wasn’t ready before.”
“And now you are?”
“Yeah. Yesterday I was out with Ellie, and we met these kids—”
“Sorry, with who?”
“Ellie. My therapist.” It feels bizarre to describe her with this simple word, even if it’s the truth. Or at least a fraction. In reality, Ellie has been so much more to me in the past.
Only in the past?
I ignore the sneaky voice tugging in the back of my mind and focus my attention on Joe.
He purses his fleshy lips. “You went out with your shrink?”
“No, of course not.” I hit an indignant tone as if this idea had never even crossed my mind—or my dreams. “We bumped into each other, then took a stroll in Encanto where we met this bunch of kids throwing a football. They recognized me and invited me to join them. It was so much fun, man. These kiddos just loved their game.”
Joe listens to me with wide eyes. “I bet they did.”
“After seeing me play with them, Ellie said she thinks I’ve got a talent for coaching,” I round up my tale.
Joe tilts his head, leveling my gaze. “’Kay, let me get this straight. You dismissed my advice, but take that of a brain digger you just met a week ago?”
His voice is half-amused, but I detect a hint of hurt in it too.
I’d hate him to think that I’m more inclined to listen to a stranger’s opinion than to his, so I say, “It’s not like that. Ellie and I know each other because she’s Devon’s sister.”
“You mean the Devon who’s joining us today? Your friend?”
“Yep, that’s him.” I nod. “Ellie and I went to the same high school, though she is a few years my junior.”
I keep my tone as casual as possible, but it’s hard because speaking about her elicits last night’s memory. The vision of her pink lips opening up crushes down on me like a tidal wave and my eyes glaze over.
A suspicious glint invades Joe’s eyes. “Wait a minute. Is there more to this Ellie than you’re telling me? Do you like her?”
“Sure, I like her…as a person, I mean…a therapist… A person and a therapist, yes.”
Joe snorts. “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’! You do like her. I’ve never heard you stuttering like a donkey when speaking about any chick I introduced you to. “
Heat prickles at the back of my neck. “That’s because you only hook me up with groupies, and I’m not a fan of them. Those girls are live hand grenades without the pin.” And that’s putting it mildly.
Joe nods. “For the married scoundrels, and for those who take a gal’s word about being on the pill, maybe. But I
don’t do that.” He winks. “I ain’t going to be outsmarted.”
There have been several cases where a groupie tricked a guy and got herself knocked up to claim generous child support.
I applaud him. “Wise decision. Now, shall we get on with the warm-up? Devon should be here any minute. Oh, by the way, don’t mention to him that Ellie is my therapist. He doesn’t know.”
Joe doesn’t move. “Okay, so your friend doesn’t know his sis treats you. Is it because he’s aware that you’re drooling behind her?”
“I told you, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” Joe points at me. “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.”
I’d like Joe to stop digging around in my mushy feelings for Ellie, but I know it’s not going to happen. I need to give him something. An intimate detail he can sink his teeth into.
I blink at him and sigh. “You win. There was a point in my life when I felt smitten with Ellie.”
Joe bumps his fist into his other palm. “I knew it. I knew you ain’t got a thumpin’ gizzard in your chest just because you don’t come kitty chasing with us. How is this Ellie? I bet she could make a hound dog smile.”
“She’s…she’s special,” I say because I can’t describe Ellie without giving away too much about my current confused feelings about her.
Joe lifts a brow. “You’ve never made a move on her?”
“I have, unfortunately.”
This bit of confession wasn’t planned, but it slipped. Perhaps because I’m tired of hiding the truth.
Joe winks at me. “That’s my man. She turned you down, though? Because you’re a footballer? Non-groupies often see us as only one step removed from a lower form of reptile. They think we can’t be trusted. That’s what I always tell Momma when she frets about my relationships.”
Since I’ve gone this far in my admission, I might just let Joe in on the rest. “Not exactly. Ellie and I were a couple back before I got drafted. It was a secret relationship because her brother was going through a rough patch, so we didn’t want to upset him.”
“He wouldn’t have liked you dating his sister?”
I stare at him. “How would you feel if I told you I was seeing Brittany or one of your other sisters?”
A grimace of horror appears on Joe’s face. “You would have a tooth missing in less than a minute. My sisters are off-limit for athletes.” He pauses and taps his forehead. “Okay, I get it. But it’s not like you two are still an item. So what’s the big deal?”
“I acted like an idiot with Ellie when we broke up.”
“How much of an idiot are we talking about? On a scale of one to ten?”
“Fifteen.”
Joe’s jaw slacks. “And she’s still accepted to become your therapist? That’s one generous woman.”
“That, she is.” I nod.
Devon’s black Audi appears on the road before we can continue, raising a thick cloud of dust in the air.
While Devon parks, I throw a severe glance at Joe. “Not a word to Devon about this, okay?”
Joe shrugs. “Fine. We’re here to run anyway. But I think that if his sister forgave you, you could be honest with your friend.”
Devon jumps out of the car and strolls to us with a wide grin.
Joe studies my friend’s broad shoulders and athletic build, and before Devon gets within earshot, he whispers to me, “If you plan a confession, get a mouthguard first. You know, just in case.”
Chapter 21
(Ellie)
“Is this dress from Cora?” Hope asks as she shuffles into my room in her giant, plush Snoopy Dog slippers.
“Yes, it is,” I turn away from the mirror. “You like it?”
“Let me see you,” she murmurs as she slouches on my bed. From the mug she’s carrying, a drop of coffee spills over and slides down the ceramic, headed straight toward my freshly ironed bedcover.
I get a napkin from one of the many dispensers I keep scattered around our apartment and scurry over to shove it into her free hand.
She takes it and wraps it around her cup just in time. “Thanks. You look gorgeous.”
I smooth the blue lace dress that Cora claimed would conjure a “darling look that harkens back to simpler days” and glance into the mirror.
Hope is right. The shade fits my skin tone and eye color. Also, I can probably pair it with that adorable pair of old-fashioned heels I pilfered from Mom’s basement before she carried her boxes to the yard sale last month.
So, if it isn’t the dress, why do I feel this queasy buzz in my belly?
Hope takes a loud slurp from her coffee. “By the way, I can lend you stuff, too, just so you know. For the next time, perhaps?”
Hope’s wardrobe is even less suitable for picking an outfit for a romantic dinner date than my own. My friend owns nothing but power suits or comfy but worn-down clothes she can’t seem to part with, like the faded T-shirt she’s wearing now that reads: “I’m a lawyer. To save time, let’s just assume I’m never wrong.”
Still, it’s her intention that counts, so I smile. “Sweet of you, thanks. But we’ll see if there will be a next time.”
Hope furrows her brows. “Why would you say this?”
Indeed, why would I?
Bill is a catch. Any other women from my clinic, or perhaps even random strangers, would confirm this. He’s smart, handsome, successful, and above all, he clearly seems interested in me.
So then why am I this uncertain about our upcoming date?
A low voice from somewhere deep in my soul whispers one word, but because it sounds too much like the name I’ve been trying to keep out of my thoughts, I kill it immediately.
Hope studies me, then after another blaring gulp, adds, “Do your jitters have anything to do with our football player?”
A grunt escapes from my throat.
Jeez, do I have a mini-Hope-spy implanted in my brain? “I plead the fifth to this question,” I answer.
Hope giggles. “Refusing the answer is as much of a tale-telling sign as admitting the truth.”
She’s right, dang it.
I had believed I’d exorcised all dubious emotions for Wyatt, but I’d only buried them. And not too well, either.
I sigh and sit down beside her. “Fine. If I’m honest, I’m not sure whether Wyatt has anything to do with it. Maybe. Or perhaps I’m just nervous because I haven’t been on many dates lately, and if things go wrong, I’ll have to see Bill at work.”
“Do you like Bill?”
“Yeah,” I say, but Hope catches the doubt in my voice.
“Do you like him more than you like Wyatt?”
I grab a pillow and fiddle with its zipper.
Hope puts her hand on mine until I peer up at her. “Answer me. If you compare your attraction to these two guys, which one is stronger?”
“I can’t answer that,” I snap. “It’s entirely irrelevant. I’m going on a date with Bill. Wyatt and I are history. Also, he’s—” I stop quickly before I can blurt out that he’s my patient.
Hope pats my skin. “Listen, I know what Cora said before she left. But letting your brain decide who’s the best guy for you doesn’t work.” She points at her chest. “And I’d bet anything, it isn’t working for Andrew and her either, but she’s too afraid to admit it.”
I raise and drop my shoulders. “Letting my gut run the game isn’t much better either. I did that with Wyatt, and it left me heartbroken.”
Hope furrows her brows. “For the record, I’m still mad at you for keeping this a secret. I remember that period well. You were a wreck, and we didn’t know what was going on with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur and place my hand on her knee. “I just didn’t want to worry anyone.”
“Ellie,” she meets my gaze, “the people who love you don’t mind helping you or listening to you. You always do it for us. There is no need to play the savior with everyone else but isolate yourself when you’re in need. Promise me you won’t do it again. Promise me
that you’ll tell us everything.”
I lift my palm to my chest. “I promise.”
Should I tell Hope that I’m working with Wyatt?
No, that’s not the thing she meant. Also, I signed the non-disclosure deal. Not that Wyatt would sue me, but his agent might.
Hope takes another big sip from her coffee and moans as she swallows. “Ah, I just love this brand Eva got us. What’s it again?”
“It’s a Nicaraguan cigar blend, her hubby’s favorite.”
“Well, I think Nathan and I are coffee soulmates then. I love it. I could drink it all day.”
“But you probably shouldn’t, not unless you want to spend the entire night with glazed eyes, staring at the TV because you’re unable to sleep.” I grin at her, relieved that we’ve moved on to a safer topic.
Hope shrugs, a line of annoyance suddenly tugging between her brows. “I have nothing better to do anyway.”
That’s when I remember that Hope was also supposed to be gone by now. “Isn’t Mitch coming to pick you up?”
“He canceled our trip. He has to travel to Tucson.”
The fact that Hope sounds disappointed about not going on her getaway means she’s more involved with Mitch than I’d thought.
Convincing Hope to take time off from work is comparable to selling a vegan ten pounds of spareribs. My friend thrives on her career. She doesn’t mind the long office hours or putting her private life second.
Like Wyatt.
Instead of giving in to my first instinct and scolding myself for bringing his image into an unrelated discussion, I force myself to remain in the present. “What’s Mitch doing in Tucson?”
“He’s attending some workshop to hone his sales skills.”
Again? “Didn’t he do that two weeks ago?”
Hope shrugs. “This is a different one.”
A small alarm sounds at the back of my mind.
I hate to jump to the same negative conclusion about Mitch as Cora, but something about his constant training doesn’t sit right with me.
I know Hope better than to blurt this out. “I’m sorry,” I say, then give her a cautious, slanted glance. “Mitch is rather invested in his education for someone who doesn’t have a stable employment.”
Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) Page 17