Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Her lips twitch, as if she’s trying not to smile. I scoop up a forkful and hold it out.
When she continues to stare, I tease, “Be a good girl and open the tunnel for the choo-choo.”
That earns me a scowl. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”
“I know.” My grin turns tender. “But I want to do it for you.”
Her eyes meet mine, startled, before darting away. She hesitates, then opens her mouth and accepts the bite. Her lips close around the fork. Somewhere in my brain, I know she’s just eating eggs, but my body doesn’t seem to care. Watching her chew, swallow, then lick a trace of cheese from the corner of her mouth is the kind of domestic intimacy I never thought could undo me.
And yet, here we are.
“See?” I say. “Not too terrible.”
Even though she doesn’t answer, a faint curve ghosts across her mouth. It’s small and subtle around the edges, yet it lands deeper than any other smile she’s given me.
I keep feeding her bite after bite. Small motions along with the quiet scrape of the fork against the plate. The tension in her shoulders eases as she sinks back into the pillows with a sigh she probably doesn’t even notice.
For once, there aren’t walls between us. Just something simple and real. Something more intimate than any kiss we’ve shared.
I feed her until her lashes lower and her breathing steadies. Until the storm in her eyes quiets and she looks sated.
I don’t say what I’m really thinking—that I’d stay like this forever if it meant she’d never have to face the world alone again—because I don’t want to scare her.
All I can hope is that deep down inside, she feels it too.
27
Rina
By the time noon rolls around, I’m dragging.
Even though Oliver made breakfast this morning, I’m still wiped. My body feels weighted, every movement a Herculean effort. Like I’ve been running a marathon I never signed up for. Fatigue presses down until even holding myself upright is work.
I’d give just about anything for a nap.
Instead, I’m perched on the couch in my office, tablet in hand, forcing my eyes to track the sponsorship notes Evelyn is reviewing. She speaks with her usual calm precision, each word clipped and deliberate, but concentration continues to slip through my fingers like fine grains of sand. I nod, pretending I’m absorbing each detail when I can barely keep my eyes open.
Her voice trails off mid-sentence when a knock sounds against the doorframe. Startled, I jolt upright as Oliver strolls in, a white paper bag dangling from one hand.
His hair is still damp from practice as a few dark-blond strands cling to his forehead. Stubble shadows his jaw, and the glint of amusement in his eyes knocks me off balance. He looks far too good for my already shaky composure.
He doesn’t bother asking for permission to enter.
Then again, when does this man ever ask for approval?
He crosses the room, unbothered by Evelyn’s presence, and sets the bag on the table in front of me.
“Lunch,” he says simply.
Heat crawls up my neck as I glance at my boss, who’s watching us with raised brows. “Thanks, but I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.” His voice cuts clean through mine, leaving no room for argument. Those blue eyes pin me in place, daring me to contradict him. “You need to eat.”
Evelyn’s gaze drifts between us, her lips curving as amusement flickers in her expression. “Well, isn’t this unusual. The two of you getting along for a change.”
Her tone is light and teasing, but the observation sets my nerves on edge.
If she only knew.
Panic prickles along my spine. If Evelyn even suspects what’s really going on between Oliver and me—or worse, Hugh figures it out—I’m finished. The no-fraternization clause in my contract isn’t a suggestion.
It’s ironclad.
Last year, a trainer was fired the moment her relationship with a player came to light.
There wasn’t a warning.
Or a discussion.
She was simply escorted out of the building.
My mouth turns bone dry at the thought.
We’re talking about my career here.
The stability I’ve clawed my way toward.
One mistake—one lapse in judgment—and it could all vanish.
All right… so maybe it wasn’t just one lapse.
More like dozens.
Before I can string together a coherent response, Oliver drops onto the couch beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as a smirk pulls at his mouth.
“We’ve entered a new era,” he says easily. “One where Rina doesn’t try to strangle me on the daily.”
I really should tell him to leave. To take his arrogance along with his perfect jawline and get out of my office. But then the scent of warm bread, tangy vinaigrette, and fresh herbs hits me, and my stomach gives an embarrassingly loud growl.
My glare has zero bite as I drag the bag closer and peek inside to find my favorite salad, crisp and colorful, paired with breadsticks still warm in their foil. My heart stumbles when I realize he remembered an offhand comment I made weeks ago.