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

at chin-length, same as during his college years. “I told your brother I’d be here for a few weeks a while back. Didn’t he mention it to you?”

“Nope.” I cross my arms across my chest. “Devon’s lack of chattiness goes both directions.”

I’m not surprised by my brother’s omission.

Devon knows I’m not fond of Wyatt, only he isn’t aware of my real motive. I’m lucky my brother is a reserved person, because he never subjected me to serious interrogation about why I disliked his friend. He accepted my (somewhat flimsy) excuse that Wyatt and I had an icky argument, the details of which I preferred not to divulge.

“But this is wonderful.” Stephanie claps her hands. “Given the short timeframe at your disposal, Mr. Harrison, it’s beneficial if you and Ellie aren’t strangers.” She grabs my elbow and squeezes it.

I’m not sure whether she’s having another contraction and needs to hide her pain, or if she wants me to agree loudly to her statement.

I ignore her grip and stay silent.

Wyatt’s agent, a skinny man in a grey suit, fiddles with his mustache then coughs. “I’m not an expert, but I always thought that in therapy, it’s better not to have ties between the patient and the caregiver. Or am I misinformed?”

“No, you’re not.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

Stephanie throws me a nasty, ‘What are you trying to do?’ glance, then smiles at the man. “Mr. Nelson, that’s absolutely correct. But only if those ties imply positive or negative emotional involvement. Past baggage like love or resentment.” She waves with her hands in a big circle. “You see where I’m going with this?”

Mr. Nelson’s face lights up. “Ah, okay. All the better.” He pats Wyatt on his shoulder. “I imagine your relationship with Ms. Griffin shouldn’t be an issue, then?”

Wyatt shifts his weight. His white T-shirt bulges appetizingly on his muscular chest as he squares his shoulders.

I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

Wyatt’s gaze moves to my face.

I try to channel the right answer to Wyatt. I can’t refuse to work with him, not after the threat Stephanie has just thrown at me.

But if Wyatt backs out, it would be different. He could easily claim that he doesn’t feel comfortable working with someone he knows. If he says that, we can quickly forget that this meeting ever happened.

Wyatt withdraws his eyes from me, and his glance drifts to the window, then over to my boss’s encouraging grin, and finally stops on his agent.

His Adam’s apple twitches, and his jaw tightens. Then he says, “No. Of course, not. My history with Ellie won’t be a problem.” He blinks back at me. “Right, Ellie?”

I pull my hands behind my back and touch my thumb to my fingertips one by one. Thanks to my dedicated practice, my secret tactic works its wonder—I’m able to stare back at Wyatt with no muscle flinching on my face while I say, “Right. No issue at all.”

Stephanie beams at me. “So glad to hear this.” Then she says to Wyatt, “You made an excellent choice with our clinic. Not only do we specialize in the most innovative therapies, but our staff is extremely well-prepared.”

“I don’t doubt Ellie’s professional skills,” Wyatt says.

His voice sounds warm and honest, and it takes me by surprise.

And so does the memory that his dilating pupils can deepen the toffee shade of his irises into the shade of an espresso. I used to tell Wyatt that his eye color was the only thing missing from his perfect “blond surfer boy” look.

My boss pats my arm. “And you shouldn’t, Mr. Harrison. Ellie is very talented and—”

I peer up at Stephanie and warmth floods my belly. I’ve never heard my boss speak about me with such high praise.

“—she knows the details of your profession inside and out, and she’s a dedicated NFL fan.”

My cheeks burn. Why did she need to blurt out my fib?

Because she doesn’t know you made everything up. The smarty-pants voice in my head isn’t welcome, but its truth is hard to ignore.

Wyatt’s eyes dart to me. He cocks his head to the side, a smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s…uhm, that’s reassuring to know.”

I block out his amused expression and mocking voice. “Stephanie, what do you say we move to the administrative details?” I throw a meaningful glance at her belly.

To be fair, I worry as much about her popping out her baby at this meeting as I am concerned that she might ask me to define some random football terms to demonstrate just how knowledgeable I am.

I’m relieved when she nods. “Ah, yes, indeed.”

Chapter 6

(Wyatt)

The musky, powdery scent drifting around Stephanie Walles’ office is overpowering. It makes the place feel more like a French boudoir than a professional establishment for people who need to face their inner monsters.

But this olfactory aspect is clearly deceptive. Because here I am, less than ten minutes in this clinic, and I’m already wrestling with a potent demon from my past.

My heart shimmies like Tic Tacs in a box and sweat beams on the back of my neck as I stare at Ellie. Those kind emerald eyes and untamable curls are even more beautiful than I remembered.

While she says something to her boss, my agent, Liam, leans closer to me, dropping his gruff Yankee twang into a whisper. “Do you feel confident about our pick?”

Confident?

Heck, no. I feel pretty confused. As Joe would put it, I’ve no idea whether to check my butt or scratch my watch.

Bumping into Ellie was a calculated risk whenever I met with her brother these past few years—and, if I’m honest, a secret desire too. But Ellie systematically ditched Devon’s invites, knowing I’d be present, so I’d gotten used to not crossing her in Phoenix. To not thinking about what a coward I’d been with her.

Now, standing face to face with her, all my regrets are trickling back to my consciousness.

I can’t confess this to my agent, of course. Liam needs to ensure that