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

“What?” My brother’s puzzled voice makes me imagine his dimpled chin slacking. “Is that man dangerous?”

I realize I might have stretched Devon’s limit to accept weird statements before launching into big brother mode, so I add, “Nope. Entirely innocuous. The poor thing just had a moment. He’s in a mentally challenged state right now.”

At these last words, my voice wavers and I have to force myself to stay serious.

It’s hard because Wyatt grabs the small pillow and starts smashing it on his head while pulling his face into a silly grimace.

There’s silence on Devon’s end as he tries to make sense of my words, then he says, “Okay. But I better leave you so you can stay vigilant. People in therapy are there for a reason.”

When my brother hangs up, I stash away my phone and turn back to Wyatt, opting for a professional, “So where were we?”

Wyatt puts a hand behind his ear and yells, “Excuse me, what did you say? I didn’t catch a word.”

Against my will, the giggle I’ve been suppressing gurgles up in my throat. Wyatt joins in and we both laugh.

Soon I’m transported back to the time Wyatt sneaked into my dorm room for dinner and I had to hide him in my closet when my brother unexpectedly stopped by.

This memory freezes up my belly and I stop laughing.

Wyatt notices my change of mood and his glee dies off, too. But he still maintains a smile as he says, “I think you wanted to tell your boring, half-deaf and mentally challenged client what you plan to do with his best friend tonight.”

I shake my head. “I told you, not your business.”

But Wyatt isn’t taking no for an answer. “Devon would surely want to see me. I only just got in from Atlanta yesterday, so I didn’t have time to let him know about my arrival.”

“Well, if he doesn’t know, then he can certainly wait until tomorrow to discover this news.” I give Wyatt an elusive smile.

If I tell Wyatt where we’re going tonight, he’ll insist on coming too.

And not only because of Devon. Wyatt adores Mexican food as much as I do. His mom was the most faithful client of Tio Filippo’s eatery in Kingman.

On my way home from high school, I’d always see her carry dishes from the restaurant—to satiate her son’s rapacious appetite, which couldn’t have been easy. I once witnessed Wyatt finish five chipotle cherry tacos topped with aioli and claim that they were his “appetizers only.”

Wyatt looks like a kid from whom I’ve just snatched away a lollipop. “I’m dying to see your brother. Can’t I come too?”

I sigh. It’s hard to resist Wyatt’s hopeful voice and his longing puppy eyes. At the same time, I don’t want to spend more time around Wyatt and his magnetic aura than I need to.

He must realize I’m torn because he fetches his phone and lifts it. “If I just dial up your brother, he’ll surely invite me along, don’t you think?”

“Don’t do it,” I squeak and without realizing what I’m doing, I launch forward to grab his phone.

He hides it behind his back and my hands land on his arms instead.

I freeze.

It isn’t the searing that seeps into my fingers from his bare skin that immobilizes me. It’s the realization that we’re suddenly nose to nose, eye to eye, and yeah…breath to breath.

Lips far too close.

Wyatt doesn’t look too stirred by our sudden closeness. He just grins at me. “Want to add tackling to the list I need to teach you?”

I jerk up and retreat to the egg chair while mumbling, “No. Not necessary. But please don’t call Devon.” I try to sit down with as much poise as possible to conceal my rickety knees.

Wyatt grows serious. “Why don’t you want me there tonight?”

I settle into a straight back position that I hope compensates for the blunder I just made. “It’s better if we don’t meet in private while I’m your therapist. Makes things more professional. In fact,” I clap my hands, “we should probably make this ground rule number two.”

Wyatt shakes his head. “I sure as heck plan on meeting your brother while I’m in town.”

“I’m not implying that you shouldn’t,” I answer. “Only that you should set up your meetings with Dev in a way that you and I don’t bump into each other.”

Wyatt arches his brows. “How am I supposed to do that? What if Dev invites me over and you’re there?”

“That won’t happen. As long as you’re in Phoenix, I’ll give him a call before I pay him a visit…like I used to,” I offer promptly.

He scratches his head. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him.

He grins back, and a staccato fills my chest.

Exactly my point.

I did well to bring in this second rule.

It’s safer for me to keep my interactions with Wyatt to the bare minimum. Despite my best effort, my body still remembers too much of how he used to make me feel. Way. Too. Much.

Chapter 8

(Wyatt)

Sweat beads collect on my forehead as I turn the corner to the cul-de-sac where the villa I recently bought from Devon’s accountant, Mike, is located.

After unpacking my suitcases, I went on an extra-long run in my new neighborhood to help get rid of the odd sizzles the unexpected meeting with Ellie had unleashed in me. I should’ve probably done another round though.

Despite two hours spent jogging, my body is still humming on a different frequency—all giddy and woozy. Not that it’s unpleasant, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be feeling this way about my therapist.

I wipe my skin with the back of my hand, but since it’s not wet enough, I break into a sprint to make the most out of the last two hundred yards.

As I reach the large Chinese elm marking my front yard, I notice two shadows lurking around the house’s left side window.

Could these be burglars?

I stop and hide behind the tree’s trunk. I slope a hand above my eyebrows to