Page 11 of Something Like That

His hair was wet and had a slight wave to it. Super sexy. Okay, it wasn’t just the hair. The whole package was super sexy.

And she was not going there.

He was a client and there were boundaries and stuff.

Sure, he’d played a starring role in plenty of her teenage fantasies. But, unlike all the overhyped movies and TV shows she’d seen over the years, he’d never once noticed her in that way. Those stories were all fantasy and fallacy because, when she’d removed her glasses, he’d barely noticed her, let alone fallen instantly in love.

Not that she’d ever actually gotten up the nerve to say anything to him, beyond discussing the parts of a cell and the role they played in the catabolism of sugar molecules. There had been no secret flirting, or innuendo. No longing glances or lingering touches. Much to her teenage heart’s bitter disappointment.

She slowed her steps even more, taking him all in. Tall and broad. Strong. Handsome.

And sad.

Or maybe melancholy was a better word. And that made her chest feel tight. Of course, the dreary weather probably didn’t help his mood. The rain often made her feel a bit blue, especially this time year. Late winter always felt a little hopeless.

But, why would he be sad? He was living his dream. Professional hockey player. It’d been his sole focus growing up. His entire life had revolved around getting to play for a living. And he’d worked so hard to make it happen.

Plus, he was a multi-millionaire. Not that she actually thought money could buy happiness, but she was a firm believer in the meme that flew around social media that said crying in a Mercedes was much preferable to crying on the bus.

It would be nice to not have to worry about money. There’d been plenty of lean years, especially after she and Kevin had divorced. Although she’d always made sure Em had what she needed, even if that had meant she’d had to go without.

He glanced her way. The urge to duck into the doorway of the café next door overwhelmed her. Which was ridiculous. Just because she was thinking of the tough times didn’t mean he could see her thoughts, or the things she’d rather he not know about. She pulled her shoulders back and straightened her umbrella.

One side of his mouth lifted. Her stupid knees wobbled. His rough features softened slightly. Man, what would a full-blown smile do to her? She was both intrigued—and terrified—to find out.

Stop it, Alex. Just stop. He’s a client, which means he’s off-limits. Like, seriously off-limits. Send your hormones back into hibernation.

Right. Professional relationship. Coach and athlete.

She walked up to the door. He pushed himself away from the wall and picked up the gym bag at his feet.

“Hey.” His voice was all rich and rumbly. The sound reverberated deep in her chest, making her all warm and fuzzy. Which was not helping her stupid hormones behave.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out all weird and breathy, but also sort of squeaky. “I’m late.” She juggled her umbrella with one hand, and tried to find her keys in her bag with the other. Where the heck were they?

“No, you’re not. I’m exceptionally early.” He took the umbrella from her, their fingers brushing. A tingle ran up her arm. She bit back a gasp.

Focus, focus, focus.

Which was super hard, now that they were crowded together in the doorway. His body heat radiated against her back, his breath tickled her neck. She finally found her keys and yanked them out of her bag with a little too much force. Her elbow collided with his stomach.

He oofed and stepped back. She whirled around, covering her mouth with her hand. He was still way closer than she expected, so she found herself staring directly at his chest. She tilted her head back to look up at him.

He was staring down at her with a completely blank expression. This close, she could see that his nose had been broken at one time, and was now just a touch crooked. There was a small scar underneath his right eye, and another faint one on his chin.

His eyes were an incredible shade of blue, almost like a cloudless summer sky, with a ring of dark blue around his irises. The need to reach up, to run her fingers along his jaw, made her fingers itch.

“Sorry,” she said, although if she was being honest, it was really more of a mumble. And before she could do or say anything stupid, she spun back around and fumbled her key into the lock. Why was she such a nervous wreck?

In an effort to get away from him, she basically fell into the clinic, only staying on her feet because of the death grip she had on the door handle. Oh, God, could she start this day over again, please?

He stepped in behind her, reaching back to shake out the umbrella outside. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She was a professional, and she could—and would—do this. Why was she letting Nick Sadler fluster her? She’d met a handful of professional athletes over the years and none of them had ever turned her into a bundle of exposed nerves.

The alarm beeped—that single, shrill sound that meant it was seconds away from wailing. She rushed over and punched in the code. The last thing she needed was the security company to call the police and have them send someone out to check. They charged when it was a false alarm.

He moved far enough into the waiting room for the door to close, but then stopped. He looked kind of like a drowned rat. A laugh bubbled up inside her, but she clamped it down. She’d already embarrassed him, and possibly hurt his feelings, the last time. If nothing else, she learned from her mistakes.

“We’re going to have to get you an umbrella, I think.” She couldn’t help the teasing note in her voice, and hoped he wouldn’t take offense.