Chapter Eleven

Right as Charlotte was contemplating if she should change into pajamas and watch some TV before crashing for the night, Stacy had texted to say they were hitting the resort’s giant hot tub and that she should meet them there. After their football game on the beach, her muscles could use some heat and jets. Plus, she really liked Stacy and her two bridesmaids, Bridget and Grace. They’d taken her right in, and she wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep anyway. She was still riding the high of doing better than expected this afternoon.

The good thing about basement level expectations was that something as simple as not falling on her face and managing to catch the ball during an official game—twice—was a win.

As she walked toward the bubbling water of the hot tub, her confidence wavered slightly. The other girls were so tall and beautiful and tan. They looked like they hit the gym on a regular basis, too.

Charlotte rarely saw the sun besides through her office window. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to the gym, although she often walked to work, which was a good three miles there and back. Of course she usually grabbed a pastry on her way…

“Come on in,” Stacy yelled, waving her toward the luminescent blue water. “It feels amazing.”

Expelling a deep breath, Charlotte slipped out of her swimsuit cover-up. The halter top of her red and white polka dot bikini supported and hoisted the girls nicely, and the bottom had the mini-est of skirts, so in addition to helping to cover her generous hips, at least her butt cheeks weren’t hanging out. She slipped into the water, hissing at the heat.

Immediately a pink drink with an umbrella was thrust into her hands.

On instinct, she nearly refused it. This was a work trip. But she was off the clock, and Lance wasn’t here.

“Cheers!” Stacy lifted her cocktail, Bridget and Grace followed her lead, and Charlotte thought what the hell. They clinked glasses, and Charlotte fought off brain freeze as the slushy, heavy-on-the-rum drink slid down her throat.

“Wow, that’s so strong it’ll walk right into your cup,” Charlotte said, and the girls laughed.

“I love your cute Texas twang,” Stacy said.

“I don’t have a twang.” She gestured to the girls with her drink. “Y’all are the ones with accents.”

“Not here in North Carolina, honey,” Grace said, and they all laughed. Yes, she liked these girls a lot. Never before had she clicked with a group of women so quickly, and she wondered if it was because of the situation or the football connection or if it was because she was usually more reserved around new people.

The heat and jets were working magic on her muscles, and complete relaxation had just set in when Stacy sat up straighter. “Oh look. The guys are headed this way.”

Charlotte’s heart began beating faster as she froze in place, too afraid to look. She hoped “the guys” didn’t include Lance—or at least she tried to, but the amount of anticipation that whirred up at the thought of seeing him told a different story. It suddenly seemed like it’d been a long time since they talked, which was silly. After the game they’d retreated to their individual rooms, and since he had a lot of calls to return, she’d texted to say she might as well complete the paperwork she needed to. She’d given up asking him to fill out the termination forms and began typing in her own answers that she’d simply have him approve later.

The real reason she’d wanted to stay in her room, though, was because she’d hugged him without thinking today, and she needed a little distance to keep her head right. It always got so messy around him.

Finally, she dared a glance over her shoulder, and there he was, next to his brother. He was turned away from her, talking to Mitch as he ever-so-casually ripped off his T-shirt. Even in the dim light, she could see all the grooves and dips. The lean muscled body. The trail of dark hair disappearing into…

Yeah, not going there.

She sipped at her drink, cursing when a sucking noise came out after only one gulp. How dare it be empty when she needed it most! She chewed on the straw, way too aware of each step closer Lance took in her peripheral.

Stacy, Bridget, and Grace scooted aside as the guys stepped into the hot tub, and Charlotte noticed Lance’s movements were a bit stiff as he climbed down the steps. He did a double take at her, so apparently he hadn’t expected her to be here, either.

Mitch’s gaze homed in on his fiancée, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. “Thought we’d work out our muscles.”

“Great minds think alike,” she said, standing and giving him a kiss. Apparently they’d already made up after the game, not that they’d actually had a fight. The love-buzz vibe coated the air around them, drifting over to Charlotte even as she willed it away. It was nice to see such a happy couple who were clearly crazy about each other, even if it also awoke a yearning she liked to pretend didn’t exist.

Of course after the rearranging that’d happened to accommodate the guys, the only open space was to her right. As Lance slowly lowered himself next to her, she stared straight ahead. When she’d packed her swimsuit, she’d known that being in it around her boss was a possibility. But she figured it’d be more like a few towels away if he came out to the beach after she’d already set up, and the reality was different anyway. Especially with their thighs so close that one tiny movement would make them brush.

The water undulated as he straightened and bent his right leg.

“Is your knee bothering you?” she asked.

“It’s just a little stiff. I’ve slacked off on my workouts.”

Her eyes roamed over his chiseled torso, even more impressive up close, and she bit back the it certainly doesn’t look like it that’d poised itself on the tip of her tongue.

He draped his arms over the edge of the hot tub. “Don’t let me get soft and pudgy sitting in the office too long.”

“As you can see, I’m probably not a good person to be in charge of that,” she said without thinking, and then he was looking at her and her heart was beating too fast and the heat was making her dizzy—both the embarrassed heat and the water temperature.

“I…” He swallowed. “I’d like to say a lot of things about that, but I’m afraid you’ll throw the handbook at me.”

“I do carry my pocket-sized edition on me at all times.”

He laughed, and she joined in, and it dissipated a dash of the tension. “I’ll just say that you look beautiful tonight. Like you did earlier today, and yesterday—like you have since the moment you stormed in my office.”

She raised an eyebrow in warning.

“What? You said compliments were okay. Remember how much you like my beard?” He reached up and ran his hand across it, a mischievous twist to his lips.

“So much regret about saying that.”

“Can’t take it back now, though.”

“I can do whatever I want,” she retorted, reaching for her drink before remembering she’d already finished it.

Everyone else was chatting amongst themselves, leaving the two of them in their own personal bubble.

Charlotte was wondering if she should break out—simply excuse herself in the name of talking to Bridget or Grace.

But then she glanced at Lance’s leg again and the scars crisscrossing his knee. She curled her fingers into a fist so she wouldn’t do something stupid like brush her fingers across them. “Does it bother you a lot? Your leg?”

“Here and there it flares up, which is typical of all my friends who’ve played a lot of ball. We all have that knee or shoulder or joint that makes us say cool old-man things like a storm’s-a-coming. I feel it in my bones.”

She laughed, but she still hated that he had to deal with it. She was sure it was true—that every athlete did have an injured spot or two that would forever bother them. She frowned as her mind reel came up with the hit on the sidelines that’d ended his career. When none of his teammates were open, Lance had run the ball for a first down. He’d gone out of bounds to avoid the oncoming slew of defensemen and to stop the clock. The hit from the giant player on the other team was late, and there’d been a flag, but it was also too late as well.

“Yeah, but if that guy hadn’t hit you so hard, maybe…” The what if path was one he’d probably rather avoid. “Is it hard not to be bitter? You gave so much to your team, and they dropped you without even waiting to see if you’d recover.”

“Don’t go feeling sorry for me,” Lance said. “One, they didn’t drop me. I told them to find someone else—it was what was best for the team. I’d already had one ACL surgery, and unlike the first one, I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Recovery was longer, and with all the added scar tissue and worn-down cartilage, the doctors warned me it’d always be weaker. They told me that if I tore it again, I might not have enough left to fix.”

“And two?”

He wrinkled his forehead.

“You said ‘one,’ so I assumed there was a two.”

Understanding smoothed his features, and his mouth kicked up on one side. “I got sidetracked and would’ve forgotten. This is why I need you around. You keep me on task.”

“Truth,” she said with a smile he returned.

“Two, every athlete knows the risks. When you’re young, you think you’re invincible and that you’ll be the exception. But we get paid a lot of money for a decade or so, and we’re well aware we can’t keep at it forever and need to make that money last. I would’ve liked another eight to ten years, but that’s life. It’s just like on the field. If the play you wanted to work gets shut down, you regroup and make a new one.”

His gaze went hazy, turning to another place and another time. “That also took longer than I would’ve liked. It didn’t help that right when I was losing the team, I also lost—” He clamped his lips and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, for a while it felt like I’d lost everything, and I drifted afterward, having a hard time finding my sense of purpose. Until now.”

“I’m glad the team’s bringing it back.”

“Me, too.” He twisted toward her, making their bubble that much smaller. “I… I’ve never really admitted that to anyone.”

“Well, according to HR guidelines, anything employees tell me in confidence, I keep in confidence. As long as it doesn’t pose a threat to another employee or the company.” She bumped her shoulder into his so he knew she was joking. “I also have something to admit…” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve decided to cut my athletic career short. It was a today-only thing. If I mess up my knee, I won’t be able to wear my shoes, and I really love my shoes.”

“I’m rather fond of your shoes, too,” he said, his voice low and secretive, and it ignited a spark in her gut. That tension was back, the chemistry between them firing stronger as they locked eyes.

It’d be so easy to lean into him. To get lost and forget all the things she needed to remember about why he wasn’t a good guy to fall for and how it’d look, and where was her brain with its ever-present list of rules? The rules had kept her safe.

The rules meant she didn’t gamble with things she couldn’t afford to lose, and she could lose her heart so easily to this guy. If her ex could crush her…Lance would eviscerate her.

Desperate to pop their bubble, she turned to address another member of the party, only to find that at some point they’d left them alone. There they were at the bar, getting more drinks. Possibly thinking they should give her and Lance space.

But she needed space from him.

She shot out of the water, fast enough that she didn’t think about how exposed she’d be until she was standing, water dripping down her body. “I have to go make a call. To my roommate.” So she can tell me all the reasons I need to keep it together and avoid flirting with my boss. Who also doesn’t fit the non-football-dude requirement in any way, shape, or form.

Hell, she’d even agree to let Shannon set her up at this point. That way she’d at least be spending an evening with someone in her league, regardless of if it wasn’t the league she wanted to play in.

“I’ll walk you back,” Lance said, starting to stand.

“No!” It came out way too loud, and a few people glanced their way. “I mean, no. Stay with your family and friends. Have a drink. I’ll be in our temporary office around nine so we can put in a few hours of work and chat strategy before the call with Coach Bryant.”

Instead of waiting for him to confirm the plan, she rushed away, fighting the urge to readjust her swimsuit bottom, since it’d only draw attention to her ass.

After all, she already felt exposed enough.