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

Ambling in a dark park with the one guy I can’t stop dreaming about? I’m thinking, heck, yes. “Sure, I’d love to.”

The words rush out of my mouth like a mouse spurting when chased by a cat.

Wyatt’s face illuminates. “Great. It’s too darned hot in here.”

Torrid. Especially with you close by. 

With my glance, I search for Hope. I’d love to tell her I’m stepping outside for a moment (or more, I hope), but she’s dancing with her Prince Charming, so I decide it’s better not to disturb her.

Wyatt holds out his hand, and I put my palm in his.

As he pulls me through the crowd, several people turn to us. Similar to Lloyd, the males compliment Wyatt for his last game, and one of them even grabs Wyatt’s free hand to do some sort of lame cool-guy handshake. The females flash seductive pouty lips at Wyatt and give dirty looks to me once they notice Wyatt is holding my hand.

To avoid their nasty stares, I keep my eyes on our interlaced fingers while I count the steps to the entrance.

If it’s a prime number, I might have a chance at a pretty special night.

They add up to twenty-nine.

Bingo! 

Once we’re outside and leave the buzzing frat party behind, I make a tentative gesture to wiggle my hand free.

I don’t really want to let go of Wyatt. After the first dazzling heatwave his touch gave me, I find it natural to hold his hand. Almost as if his long musician fingers and broad, strong palm were created to frame my tinier hand.

But the road is empty, and there’s no danger that we’d lose each other now.

Wyatt gives me a slanted glance and squeezes my fingers tighter. “As your magical mate, I must protect you.”

“I thought your duty was to eat me up,” I answer, as if his comment was a joke.

He grins at me. “That could happen, too, if you insist.”

I blink up at the speckled, cloudless sky. Its dark has a velvety quality, almost as if the air has thickened somehow.

“When I was still living in Kingman, I used to climb out to the roof and watch the stars,” Wyatt says. “On tough nights, when I’d yearn for the light of the sun to arrive, their sparkles were my promise that the darkness would end.”

I stop in my tracks and peek up at him. “Why were your nights difficult?”

His face steels as if he just realized he spoke out loud, but then his features soften. “It’s so effortless to tell you things, Ellie. Why do you think it’s like that?”

“I’m not sure,” I mumble while raking a hand through my curls. “Perhaps because you and Devon are best friends?”

Wyatt shakes his head. “I think it’s because of something else.”

“What?” I ask, but he’s not looking at me anymore.

He directs his glance at a bench that’s in a small clearing nestled between two university buildings. “Come, let’s take a pause here.”

He pulls me to it, then releases my fingers and plops down. He taps the place beside him.

My arm presses against his as I sit.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “There’s chewing gum.” I show him the smudge of pink on the wooden surface that I tried to avoid.

He puts his arms around me and pulls me even closer so that our hips collide. “There. We don’t want you to get into that dirty gunk.”

My throat closes with excitement, but I immediately scold myself for my reaction.

Though being alone with Wyatt is a scenario I might have fantasized about like a gazillion times and I’d counted twenty-nine steps, it’s still no good reason to read anything into his gestures.

Or his odd tone and puzzling words.

I need to wait and see how things unfold.

“So…uhm…how is life?” I say, in lack of a better conversation starter.

“Are you nervous about being here with me?”

My eyes dart to him. “Why would you ask me this?”

Wyatt takes my wrist and lifts my hand.

My thumb, that’s just arrived at my pinky, freezes.

“You always do this gesture when you’re upset,” he murmurs.

“You noticed it?” And he remembers it?

“I notice much more than you may think. Especially about you.”

“Why?” My heart drums in my ears.

Wyatt runs two fingers along my jawline. Slowly, really slowly. “I think you know why,” he murmurs.

My lips part. “What are you doing?”

Wyatt’s captures my eyes. “What does it look like?” His lips hint at a smile, but his voice is husky.

“Like you’re about to kiss me,” I mumble.

“Would you mind if I did?”

I swallow. “You mean…whether I would mind if you kissed me?”

“Yes.”

My breath hitches. “Yes.”

He lifts his brows. “Yes?”

“I mean, no. No, I wouldn’t mind.”

Wyatt smiles, but his lips don’t curl up with his usual composed chill. No, there is a slight quiver in their movement, as if he’s thrilled about my answer but also hesitant to believe it.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time. And if you don’t stop me now, I’ll go through with it.”

“What does that even mean?” I fear I might ruin this incredible moment with my blathering, but I can’t make sense of his words.

Wyatt wants to kiss me? How is this possible?

“I fancy you,” he says simply.

His confession takes my breath away. Mostly because he states it so self-evidently as if he’s just told me he likes football.

Was I wrong about Wyatt? Perhaps he has other desires besides becoming the next NFL superstar?

The confusion must be written on my face because Wyatt’s expression sobers. “I scared you with my forthcoming statement. Sorry.”

“No, you didn’t. I just…”

“You, what?” He asks while leaning closer, and his hot stream of air caresses my neck. “Ellie, you can talk to me.”

“Is this just—” I breathe in as I plan how to tell him what’s on my mind. “Devon says that you only do flings.”

Wyatt’s jaw sets in a line. “He’s not wrong. I’ve never had a serious relationship.”

My stomach tightens. “Is this a ‘let’s kick off