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

Chapter 24

(Ellie)

At seven in the morning on Monday, I am ready to exit our apartment.

Cora left early for her gallery to set up their new exhibition, and Hope is still snoring as I pass by her room. She’s unlikely to wake up soon—based on the legal contracts scattered on our kitchen table, she must have pulled an all-nighter—so I don’t even have to tiptoe.

This is good because my calf muscles still hurt from yoga.

A flash of annoyance runs through me as I recall Hope’s disappointed face from last evening.

If I ever meet Mitch again, I’ll surely make some comment on his dubiously frequent trips and the training that never seems to lead to actual employment; and see how he reacts.

I softly close the entrance door and stride to the elevator.

While I wait for it to arrive, I check the contents of my bag: napkins, pen, notepad, phone, hand sanitizer, small emergency kit, sewing kit, and my favorite mints. Okay, everything is here.

I pat the outer pocket to ensure that I didn’t forget my parents’ housekeys. They’re visiting friends at Cape Cod, and though Mom has surely asked a neighbor to water her orchids, I’d still like to stop by and check how her plants are doing. Mom treats those tropical flowers like they’re her children—or perhaps grandchildren, as Dad likes to joke.

The elevator chimes, and I dart forward without looking up.

I bump into Cora.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, jerking back and lifting my bag so that it covers my unusually steep neckline.

Cora brushes back her curls. “I left my wallet at home. Luckily, nobody stopped me on the way.” As expected, her glance zooms in on the thin strap on my shoulder. “And you, sugar? Aren’t you meeting your mystery client today?”

“I…uhm, yes.”

She shakes her head and the curl she’s just tucked behind her ear falls back over her face. The strawberry blond tip bounces in the air as she says, “Not in this dress, bless your heart, you’re not. Unless he’s taking you on a date.” She pauses and a glint of suspicion seeps into her features. “Or is he?”

“No, of course not. We…we’re just taking a field trip to his hometown. To untie some past issue.”

“I see. Are you going by car?”

My shoulders relax when she skips over any further comments on my spaghetti dress. “Yes, we are. He’s driving us, but I’ll be back later tonight.”

Cora purses her lips, which are enhanced by only a hint of peachy lip gloss. I’ve never seen my roomie with any lipstick on, even if she’s an expert on makeup and trendy hairstyles. “It figures. Kingman isn’t that far.”

The saliva I wanted to swallow gets stuck in my throat, and the elevator door closing bumps me forward, a deadly combination that throws me into a coughing fit.

Cora’s face drifts into a worried expression, and she pats my back until I recover. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want to startle you. But it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

Cora puts up her hand on my shoulder and levels my gaze. “I know you’re under some kind of professional oath, so it’s okay if you don’t confirm this verbally. Just nod in response. Is Wyatt your new client?”

I gasp. “How did you figure it out?”

Cora shrugs. “It was something Laia mentioned before we started the yoga class. She said that she and Devon invited Wyatt for lunch several times during the week, and Wyatt could never make it because he was tied up until one-thirty. Which is exactly the time your therapy sessions end.”

It’s nearly impossible to lie to Cora. She pairs her street smarts with an incredible sophistication she gained through years spent blending in with her high-society clients.

Still, I can’t believe she exposed this.

“You’re good.” I say, bewilderment mixing with admiration in my voice.

Cora smiles. “Thanks. When you told us you dated Wyatt, the way you spoke made me think that there was still something going on between you two. But since you agree with me”—she taps the tip of my nose—“that falling for an athlete is as dumb as falling for a bad boy, I knew it couldn’t be anything sentimental.”

My heart stutters.

Has Cora’s lie detector missed a crucial detail? Or is she testing me?

I force the corners of my mouth upward. “Indeed. I’m helping Wyatt because it’s the only way Stephanie will grant me the promotion. And he needs my services to continue with his career.”

She studies my face with squinted eyes, then smiles. “Great. Then there’s no need for me to share this information with anyone.”

“Yeah, no need,” I mumble.

Cora taps the call button of the elevator, and the doors reopen. She gives me a gentle nudge between the shoulder blades. “Then go, otherwise you’ll be late.”

I step inside and wave to her, smiling.

As the metal doors close between us, the asymmetrical smirk frozen on my lips, my throat closes up.

I told the truth to Cora. I know it’s a silly thing to fall for an athlete—especially one who has already broken my heart.

Then why do I feel guilty?

I swallow twice, and while exhaling, I quickly touch my thumb on the tip of my other fingers. Today is just a field trip needed for Wyatt’s therapy. It will go fine.

Hopefully. Maybe.

Chapter 25

(Wyatt)

“How are you feeling about this trip so far?” Ellie asks as I turn off from the highway toward Kingman.

“Good,” I say, forcing my mind to stay away from all the inappropriate thoughts her closeness awakens in me.

“Great. So we’ll drive straight to your mom’s, right?”

I hit the brake too harshly when the traffic light turns red, and we bounce forward from the sudden deceleration. “Sorry. Yes, that’s what we’ll do,” I murmur, switching the stick into the first gear.

Ellie follows my movements with furrowed brows. “Just like you, most of our patients with manual cars never use the neutral position for the gearstick at traffic lights. It’s a