Page 82 of Wild Blades

“It means nothing. It’s just a date.”

“She wants to keep our relationship professional.” I’ve said that to her too, but I’m fucking lying to myself and her. “She’s just my publicist.”

Jordy ruffles my sweat-soaked hair. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“She’s too old for me.”

“She’s fucking perfect for you. You need someone like her to keep you in check.”

My stomach knots. “You make her sound like someone’s mom.” Not mine though. My mother never gave a shit about me.

“I saw the way you look at her.”

“How the hell do I look at her?” I ask, annoyed.

“Like she’s already yours.”

I wish she was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Kali

Max pulls up outside my house and I jump out of his Range Rover as fast as I can. It’s been a long day, all I want to do is have a shower, and go to bed. I grab my new high-top sneakers I bought in Eagles colors and push my purse over my shoulder.

“See you Friday. Pick me up around seven. Is that okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Saluting me from the driver’s seat, he confirms the booking.

“Thanks, Max.”

“Goodnight, Ms. Roth.” Unless we are at an event, I always make him wait inside the car. I don’t need escorting into my house.

My heelsclick clackdown the path to my front door.

Pulling Max’s sports jacket around me, a shiver runs down my spine from the icy weather. It’s November. I don’t want to, but I really must swap out my summer wardrobe to accommodate the dropping temperature.

Humming to myself, I lift my phone to unlock the door when a deep, dark voice punctures the air. “Did you enjoy your date?”

So many things happen at once. A small scream splinters my throat; I jump in alarm, dropping my phone and sneakers in theprocess and my heart pole-vaults into a dark place as I fear for my life.

“It’s me,” the voice says, and I swivel on the balls of my feet to face the man who almost gave me a heart attack.

“Wade, what the hell?” I yell, my exasperated voice echoes through the street and between the trees behind the houses.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Shoulders pulled up to his ears to protect him from the cold, hands shoved into his dress pants, he looks weary and sad. “Did you enjoy your date?” he asks again and my lips ache to kiss his handsome face and make whatever is bothering him go away.

But I don’t and enjoy the view instead. He looks so handsome and smart in his suit he wears before and after every game. Having had Emmanuel drop off five new Tom Ford suits for him, this one fits him to perfection. He looks even sexier than usual.

My former teenage heart swoons over the black Converse he’s wearing with it.

He really is delicious.

I want to eat him.

Again.

But I can’t let him distract me. I’ve been doing my best since Monday to avoid being alone with him.

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