Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (ebook and pdf reader .txt) 📕

My heart skips a beat.

Atlanta Kites?

No, I must have misheard. There’s no way my boss mentioned that team. It’s my mind playing tricks on me. Wyatt has nothing to do with this case. Absolutely nothing.

The door clicks behind me. “Ah, Mr. Harrison,” my boss exclaims. “Welcome back!”

I freeze, and my heart leaps to my throat.

Oh, sweet heavens. Shoot. Me. Now.

Chapter 5

(Ellie)

Stephanie’s features move into her usual serene, I can solve your problems. Just pay me for it, expression as she peers over my shoulder.

“Did you and Mr. Nelson reach a conclusion regarding the proposed timelines?” she asks.

A masculine yet melodic timbre fills the room. The well-known cadence sends my stomach on an instant wild roller coaster.

How can Wyatt be here? How?

“Yes, Mrs. Walles, we did,” Wyatt says. “Unfortunately, we won’t be able to work together. I need to begin my counseling immediately.”

My boss’s calm mask wavers. “You mean you need to start ASAP?”

Instead of Wyatt’s baritone, a raspy voice with a strong New York accent resounds behind my back. It must belong to Mr. Nelson, Wyatt’s agent.

“That’s exactly what my client means,” he says. “Wyatt has to complete impulse control therapy by the third week of July.” He clears his throat, and even in the middle of my shock, I can’t help but notice he sounds like he’s gargling with rusty nails. “We need a therapist dedicated solely to Mr. Harrison, and we need that person now. Or preferably, yesterday.”

My fingers fidget with a button on my coat. I notice a thread dangling free and try to split it without tearing off the button itself.

While my hands are busy, my mind is whizzing with thoughts.

I can’t believe I was begging Stephanie only a minute ago to assign me this case. What kind of mess was I trying to work myself into? How lucky that my boss hadn’t conceded.

Stephanie’s chin quivers, and she grips the side of her desk with one hand. “Of course, I understand your point perfectly,” she says in a grave voice that either expresses her sorrow at missing out on the fantastic opportunity of treating Wyatt or masks a contraction. Possibly both.

I let my lungs expand. They’ve just established that my boss’s schedule isn’t acceptable. There’s nothing else for Wyatt and his agent to do other than leave, right? I don’t even have to turn around. Wyatt will never know I was standing in the same room as him.

Stephanie throws me a calculating glance. “—which is why I’m thrilled to say that while you were conferring, I came up with a solution to accommodate Mr. Harrison’s needs.”

Panic grips my throat. I can’t be assigned to work with Wyatt. No way.

“What do you propose?” Wyatt’s agent inquires.

Stephanie points to me. “My assistant is also a certified RTAT counselor. She has valuable experience with similar cases. And, best of all, as luck has it—”

As luck has it? Valuable experience? Oh, jeez… she’s going there…

“—her schedule is clear at the moment,” my boss finishes, tossing me into a black hole she doesn’t even see.

I suck in choppy breaths as I try to keep it together.

Okay, maybe Wyatt will say no. Perhaps he’ll think being treated by an assistant is beneath him. After all, he’s a frigging star.

But Wyatt doesn’t answer as I hoped. “Ah, that’s excellent news!”

He sounds relieved. I can tell because his voice fills with that extra-smooth undertone that used to make my chest stir.

Stephanie smiles. “It is. You can even start your first session today if you so wish.”

She blinks at me and lifts a brow as if to indicate, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

But I don’t move. I can’t. My limbs are numb.

Stephanie withdraws her glance from me. “As I said, Ms. Griffin is just as—”

“I’m sorry, who?” Wyatt’s cry cuts through the air.

“Ms. Eloise Griffin, my assistant.” Stephanie steps over and puts a hand on my shoulder.

I hear a soft gasp behind me.

Did it come from Wyatt? Is he as bewildered by the unlikelihood of this coincidence as I am?

Stephanie nudges me to whip around, but when I don’t comply, she whispers into my ear, “Ellie, what’s wrong with you?”

I withstand her stern gaze while mouthing, “I can’t do this,” at her.

But she either can’t read my lips or interprets my desperate words as cold feet because she answers in a low voice, “This is what you wanted. Now get a grip and introduce yourself to your client properly. If you don’t, I’ll fire you.”

I grit my teeth and slowly pivot around, a staccato hammering in my chest.

I wish the years had made Wyatt fat and ugly, but of course, they hadn’t. If anything, he’s in better shape than ever. Probably since keeping in form is part of his chosen career.

And I know better than anyone how dedicated he is to that.

“Ellie?” Wyatt’s face moves into a shocked grimace. “So it’s you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I say while trying to control my heart rate, but it isn’t easy because Wyatt Harrison isn’t just some guy I dated.

No, he’s a whole different ballgame, pun intended. Wyatt is more than a successful NFL quarterback, he’s also one of my brother’s best friends. And, if that isn’t enough, he was also the biggest crush of my life—with a capital C.

At least, until he broke my heart.

My boss bounces her glance between Wyatt and me. “You two know each other?”

Wyatt nods. “Yes, Ellie and I come from the same town.”

His voice is flat, with no particular emotion in it, which I find particularly weird. Not only because of our history, but also because we’re in a behavioral clinic. If Wyatt can keep his calm so easily, while I struggle to breathe, then what can I possibly teach him about impulse control?

While I muse about this, Wyatt turns to me. “I didn’t know you worked here. Devon never mentioned it.”

“And I didn’t know you returned to Phoenix,” I reply and pat myself inwardly for the sass I injected into my tone.

He rakes a hand through the wavy blond hair he still keeps