Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

Ellie has a point. Why did I flip out at Rodriguez? I mean, I don’t particularly fancy the guy, but I’ve never contemplated swatting him in the pie-hole. Was it only the physical exhaustion, like Coach Williams suggested?

Before I can dwell on this any further, a male voice interrupts us. “Is the good news true?”

It belongs to a dapper guy roughly my age. He’s got walnut-colored hair, sculpted cheekbones, and broad enough shoulders to make me suspect he hits the gym every single day. Though he doesn’t wear a white coat over his dark pants and pale-blue shirt, he looks too comfortable in his skin to be a stranger in this clinic.

Is he a colleague of Ellie’s?

My inkling is confirmed when she greets him with a warm smile. “Oh, hi, Bill. Yes, the rumors are true. I’ve got my first solo case.”

“That’s wonderful,” the man exclaims, clapping his hands. “I was sure you’d make it, Eloise.”

Eloise?

His voice is as smooth as his flawlessly shaven chin, and it somehow irritates me at once. Especially when I see it unleashes a soft blush on Ellie’s cheeks.

I wait for Ellie to correct him. She hates when people call her Eloise.

But she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes become all gooey as she mumbles, “Ah, thanks. You’re too kind.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Bill adds in his suave drawl. “You’re talented. It’s time Stephanie realizes this and lets you spread your wings.”

It’s not like the guy is wrong. Ellie has always been gifted with understanding people, so it’s easy to believe that she became an excellent therapist.

If I know Bill’s compliment is honest, then why does my scalp prickle? I scratch the itchy spot, and my movement alerts Bill to my presence.

His eyes flick to me but don’t stay long enough for me to catch his gaze. They move back to Ellie and he flashes her a movie-star smile. “I don’t want to keep you away from your conversation. I just came to ask if you’d like to drink a celebratory cuppa with me before lunch?”

Ellie’s eyes widen. “Today?” She gives me a side-glance then shakes her head at Bill. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Her voice is a bit too disappointed for my liking, but her refusal makes my chest giddy all the same. But the sensation quickly turns frosty when she adds, “Perhaps later this week?”

Bill’s lips, which started on a downside slope when Ellie first shunned his invite, curl up. “Sure, of course. Whenever you have time.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m loudly clearing my throat.

Bill’s gaze snaps back to me, and this time it sticks. He straightens his back as he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Dr. Bill Roy. And you are?”

I take pleasure in the realization that I’m almost half a head taller than Bill, even when he stretches himself to his full height.

“I’m the one with whom Ellie’ll be practicing her formidable flying skills.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at me, clearly unappreciative of my cockiness, then she pivots to Bill. “Bill, this is Wyatt Harrison. My new client.”

“—and friend,” I interject.

“My brother’s friend, yes,” Ellie corrects.

“In all cases, Ellie and I go way back,” I add with a bright grin, ignoring the scrutinizing glance my phrase earns me from Ellie.

I don’t know why I’m behaving this childish and territorial. It must be Bill’s all-American smirk. It’s too shiny. Almost as if he has too many teeth flashing all at once.

Bill observes me with narrowed eyes, then suddenly his face illuminates. “Wyatt Harrison? You’re the Kites’ quarterback!” He extends his hand to me with an enthusiastic bling-bling grin.

I shake it. “I am. Nice to meet you.”

Bill’s blue eyes are now entirely focused on me. “I can’t believe this. I’m a huge fan. In my fantasy football team, I always aim to draft you, together with Morrison and Gurnard.”

Ellie, as if she’s somehow bothered by the doc’s attention on me, chimes in, “And Bill is the department head of our Eating Disorder Unit. The youngest one in the whole clinic. He’s incredible with his patients.”

My stomach tightens at the over-the-top smile she throws in Bill’s direction.

“I try my best.” Bill nods and beams back at Ellie. “So, about that coffee? When would it suit you?”

Ellie tilts her head and draws in a breath, but I anticipate her.

“Listen, Bill,” I say, “any chance you’d like to pick my brain about your game strategy?”

Bill’s jaw drops. “That would be awesome. I’m sure I’d smash my opponents if you coached me.”

I ignore Ellie’s suspicious frown and add, “Then perhaps I should join you during this celebratory coffee?”

Ellie’s eyes widen, and the hostility flashing in them isn’t easy to miss.

She must be wondering why I made this ridiculous offer. If I’m honest, part of me is doing the same. Bill’s invite wasn’t meant as a friendly get-together with Ellie. He wanted her on a date.

So why did I interfere?

I tell myself it’s because I worry Ellie might get distracted from my therapy if she’s daydreaming about Mr. Perfect Smile. But I sense it isn’t the entire truth.

Before Bill can answer, Ellie touches his arm. “Actually, why don’t we trade our coffee for a nice dinner?” She turns to me and gives me an overly sweet smile. “That doesn’t mean you and Bill can’t get together and chat about football.”

Why couldn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?

The corners of Bill’s mouth jump to his ears as he peers down at Ellie. “Oh, I’d love to have dinner with you.” Then to me, he says, “And I’d be thrilled to hear your tips over a coffee or a beer. Your choice.”

How marvelous. I just made Bill the happiest man on earth. Hallelujah.

“Sure. We’ll do that sometime, then,” I mutter. Though I have no wish to spend any time with Bill alone, I brought this on myself with my reckless behavior, so I might as well just swallow the frog. I can always invent an excuse when he proposes a time.

“Wonderful,” Ellie purrs, like a