Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
The breath stuttered in my lungs at the vulnerable question, and fire laced through my veins.
“No,” I answered honestly. “I feel a lot of things when it comes to you, but fear definitely isn’t one of them.”
Desire. Curiosity. Need. Those were all very present as he claimed me with just a look.
Relief flickered over his features. “Alex,” he whispered my name, leaning closer, lips inching down toward mine—
Sherlock shook rapidly, ice cold drops of water splashing over us, shocking us apart.
“Sherlock,” I said, laughing at the sight of Ethan’s dress shirt covered in water, the fabric clinging to his muscled chest. “Silly dog,” I playfully chided, reaching for a towel and handing it to Ethan so he could dry off.
And as I scrubbed Sherlock’s fur dry, I secretly and silently thanked him for his perfect timing. Because the lines between Ethan and I were so damn hard to see, but the last thing I wanted to do was ruin my chances at really making a difference in his life.
Ethan had been assigned to me because I’m the best at what I do, and I wouldn’t let him down. Not even if it meant silencing my heart in the process.
CHAPTER 5
Ethan
There were two places you could usually find me on game day—the first was in the locker room listening to the coach pump up the players before the game started, the second was in the dugout or the owner’s box.
It most certainly wasn’t lingering outside the east entrance of the stadium, anxiously waiting for someone in particular to show up. And attending a game had never been about a life coaching session either, so I was in entirely unfamiliar territory, despite the familiar setting.
I scanned the busy sidewalks to the stadium crowded with Hurricanes fans desperate to get inside before the game started.
Where was she?
She’d texted me yesterday, asking if I was ready for her to shadow me in my regular routine. I’d sat on the text for two hours before I answered her. I knew it was inevitable, but having her shadow me at a game was going to be a new experience, especially since this was the first game since the incident. I didn’t know how the crowd would react to my presence—if they recognized me. I’d opted for a pair of athletic pants and a Hurricanes T-shirt and a baseball cap, in a poor attempt to hide my face.
Nerves tangled in my stomach, making my heart pound harder against my chest. What if I snapped, and it scared Alexandra off? We’d gotten pretty deep with our quid pro quo at the animal shelter, and I knew she’d been hurt in the past by someone with an anger problem.
Adrenaline snaked through my blood, and I curled my hands into fists. Fuck, I’d like to run into whatever asshole thought he could lay his hands on her and break them. The idea of her being physically harmed made an unstoppable desire to protect her creep up inside me, even though I knew she’d already taken care of herself and the problems of her past.
It didn’t matter. Not to the instincts that roared every single time I thought about the way she’d looked when she’d shared little pieces of her story—her eyes shifting from the confident, non-sugarcoated bluntness to shades of fear and shame. The way her shoulders had dipped in just slightly, like some instinct ingrained into her whenever she even thought about her ex.
Fuck, I’d thought I had it bad. And sure, I knew painful pasts were relative, but I’d never been physically abused. Emotionally? Hell yeah, I knew all about that. But Alex…
I took a deep breath. She didn’t share her story with me so I’d look up her ex and beat his ass like we were in high school. And it’d taken all of my willpower not to use some of Asher’s fancy background tech to hunt the prick down, but I’d kept myself in check. She’d shared her story with me as an offering, a bridge to trust between client and coach, or maybe even between friends. I couldn’t waste that.
What if she didn’t come?
What if after the charged moment between us in the animal shelter she decided I was too much like the asshole from her past and she had me reassigned?
Fair. That would be absolutely fair.
But why did it make this wide, gaping hole open up in the pit of my stomach?
Because it would mean I definitely lost the bet? No, not that. I’d already contended to that the second she became my anger management coach.
Was the hollowness because I’d be losing the best in the business to help me get my reputation back in good standing with the league commissioner?
No, that wasn’t it either.
It was more than that.
More than a bet or a contract between us.