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

even necessary to pivot around. Even without looking, I know exactly what—or rather who—Pete’s surprise is going to be.

Chapter 10

(Wyatt)

“Hey buddy, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you until next week,” Devon exclaims as we hug each other at the restaurant’s entry hall.

I shrug. “OTCs were over, so I thought, why wait? Georgia is hot too, and without your crooked smile or Pete’s fancy Elvis cut, it’s hard to take.”

“I believe ya.” Pete winks at me. “I’ve spent a summer in Atlanta without ever finding a decent barber.” He adjusts his meticulous pompadour coiffure, which has been his signature style ever since we graduated from high school.

I chuckle at his comment, but my eyes are fixed on Devon. Will he accept my weak explanation about my early arrival as easily as Pete did?

I’m lucky because Devon smiles and pats my back. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here. Come, let’s go to the girls.”

As we lumber inside the room filled with large tables and brightly striped tablecloths, my nostrils open up to a delicious spicy scent.

My stomach growls, but I know its rumbling is due as much to my hunger as to the anticipation of facing Ellie.

How will she react?

I plaster on a smile and infuse some extra zest into my step. I purposefully strike up a conversation with Devon so as to not arrive at their table feeling embarrassed.

Still, as I spot Ellie’s glowing cheeks and baffled glare, my heart stutters.

The girls all stand up to greet us.

A pretty Latina girl, with hair so long it sweeps her hips points at me. She must be Laia, Devon’s fiancée. “Isn’t that Wyatt? I’ve only seen him on TV and on Dev’s phone, but I think it’s him.”

“Yes, it’s him,” Ellie answers her in a flat tone.

Devon leads me to Laia and presents me to her.

His fiancée is petite, with all the right curves, and has got a dazzlingly sweet smile, which she uses in abundance while she shakes my hand.

From the corner of my eye, I see Pete hauling Ellie into a tight embrace.

“Hey, kiddo. Your bro mentioned you’ve got a case. Congrats,” he murmurs in his deep bass-baritone.

I envy the carefree tone Pete hits with Ellie, and even more the fact that she closes her arms around his torso like it’s the most natural thing in this world.

Will I ever get back to such ease with her?

Before I can think about this further, Ellie’s two friends step over to me.

I met Hope and Cora during college when Devon was still studying in Phoenix. It was all before Ellie and I started dating. Sometimes, when I’d drive over to Tucson to see Devon and Pete, Ellie and her besties would tag along for a drink and a pool game with us boys.

Hope’s hair is shorter now than the last time I saw her, but the chin-length style gives a pleasant edge to her features. She still seems to be a fan of strong eye makeup, but with her smart suit and purple blouse, the effect is less rebellious than it used to be.

While I kiss her cheeks, we each murmur a polite, “Nice to see you again.”

Cora kept her modern Southern Belle style in her pastel dress with a giant ribbon and plenty of pearl buttons. It fits with her, “Wyatt hon, long time no see,” greeting, too.

When Cora pulls back from me, my heart speeds up. There’s still one more person to greet.

Ellie stands motionless as I pivot to her. Her cheeks are playing in that enticing rosy tint from when she first caught sight of me.

I know it’s fury painted on her skin, but I can’t stop wishing it were a real blush and not just the hot rush of anger. One unleashed by me.

When our eyes meet, she draws her brows together slightly, not enough for the others to see, but I get her meaning.

She wants to know why I broke her rule.

Well, I didn’t.

Or at least not knowingly, so I don’t have to be uneasy about being here.

I shrug imperceptibly in a ‘you know, it just happened’ way.

Her nostrils flare, and a murderous glint invades her green eyes. The intensity is such that I wince.

Her lips twitch slightly as if saying, Yeah, you better be aware of my frustration.

“It’s been almost a decade since you two met, no?” Devon moves to us, tapping one hand on my shoulder, and with the other, patting his sister’s back.

“It seemed much shorter,” Ellie says.

Her tone is throaty, and I wonder whether she’s only thinking of this morning. Or whether she also feels that when we stare at each other, time becomes a relative concept.

“Aren’t you going to greet each other?” Devon asks.

“Sure, of course,” I mumble, but I’m not sure how to proceed.

I can’t possibly wave at her. But any bodily contact could be dangerous right now, while my chest is still roaring from our silent conversation and the realization that Ellie and I still understand each other without words.

Ellie holds out her hand.

Okay, that I might be able to take.

But before I can touch her palm, Devon bursts into a laugh. “It might have been a while, sis, but Wyatt and you aren’t strangers.”

Indeed, we aren’t. Even if I’d feel less awkward with a stranger right now.

Devon places a hand between Ellie’s shoulder blades and shoves her toward me. “Greet each other properly, you two.”

I’m as unprepared for Devon’s gesture as she is. Still, my muscles are trained to react to the unexpected, so I open my arms, making Ellie crush against my pectorals. I forbid myself to breathe, but her scent—coconut, orange blossom, with a hint of earthly freshness—infiltrates my nostrils despite my effort. I don’t want to be affected by Ellie, but I can’t deny that I still am.

At least my body is.

I suppress the memories that threaten to surface as her warm body presses against me.

It goes easier when Ellie’s words distract me from my thoughts. “What the heck are you doing here?” she