Page 4 of SALT

"Making dinner," was all I managed to answer. I was too nervous to say more. I didn't want to break him free from whatever haze had fallen over him and brought him into my space.

His hand lightly trailed up my arm, and he said, "Smells good."I could feel his body pull toward mine like a magnet. His heat enveloped me, and my skin pebbled with awareness.As I cleaned the seeds out of the pepper, I swear I felt his free hand gently brush against my hair as my entire body was innately cued into his every move, but something stilled his hand.The next thing I knew, he squeezed my shoulder and said, "Please don't cut yourself." And then he walked away.

"And I know for certain he was always watching you. I noticed it from the first time I met you. You tried to force his hand with your Parker scheme, and it backfired. I get the idea. You were trying to make him own his feelings. The cooking incident was just one of many tender moments the two of you started sharing last summer, but then you pushed him. Maybe if you hadn't started a fake relationship with Parker, things would have kept progressing between you and him."

I stand from the chair, unable to sit, my anxiousness winning out over the levelheadedness I was trying to maintain. "So how does that pertain to the now? I can't go back and undo what has already been done."

"I'm saying he's jealous. I think he said those words last night because he can't stand watching you with other guys. But believe it or not, jealousy is a good thing. Or, at the very least, it's an indicator of more. If he's jealous, he's thinking of you, and he's afraid because he knows he has something to lose."

"Knock, knock," Connor says, catching us off guard. I instantly hold my breath as I wait for Everett to round the corner behind him."I think we're missing some boxes,andweneed some clarification on where to take a few.While the guys could, and they don't mind the workout, I'd rather not have them lift heavy boxes more times than necessary."

Connor looks like his father, though his hair is lighter and his build is leaner. Until Mackenzie showed up last summer, the pair were the two most eligible bachelors in town. I'm not immune to Connor's good looks. It's just the charm that was always lacking for me. I felt like the unwanted sister for the longest time, and we're not even related. I was like a gnat he couldn't swat away. Don't get me wrong, he was never mean, but any inclusion always felt like an obligation and nothing more. Now that I'm best friends with his wife, our relationship has changed. What always felt like toleration has started to feel like friendship.

"Where's Everett?" Mac glances back at me, sensing I'm on pins and needles.

"I left him with Coach Teague while I came uphere to get my marching orders."

"Are you still down to help me today? I'd like to finish the offices and announcer booth before we leave at the end of the week," she asks me as I sigh an anxious breath of relief.

"Let's do it. Who says I can't lift boxes while wearing heels?"

I'm down to help but I don't care to cross paths with Everett, and if I know Connor, he'll hole me up somewhere rather than make me run around the stadium in heels.

Connor's eyes drop to my feet. "You are not lifting shit wearing those. The last thing I need to deal with today is you twisting an ankle or falling. You can help unpack boxes, and at noon …" he checks his watch before adding, "The staff uniforms are arriving."

"Really?" I clasp my hands together. "I thought they weren't due in for another week."

He shrugs. "I guess they got them done ahead of time. Can't complain about efficiency."

Another perk to being Mac's best friend is that she helped sell my pitch to Connor about letting me design the new team uniforms. Mackenzie designs spaces, and I design clothes. We were always meant to be best friends. I was desperate to get some kind of actual design gig on my resumè before graduating, and this was the perfect opportunity. It's hard to find designinternships,especially ones that actually put you in any type of position to showcase your ability. I explained all that to him, but it was the part where I said I would do it for free that sold him. Connor is already bleeding money in enough areas that the cost savings of not having to hire a designer was a no-brainer. To my surprise, he actually liked all of my first-round drafts. I was fully prepared to go back to the drawing board multiple times, but my designs impressed him so much that he asked me to assist with designing the staff uniforms and logo wear for the team shop here at the stadium.

Mackenzie wraps her arms around Connor's waist and pushes up on her tippy toes for a kiss. "I didn't get my morning kiss yet."

He grabs her jean-clad ass hard, making me jealous, not of him but of the affection. Connor looks at Mac like she's his purpose, his reason for existing, and I want that.

"That's because you left before dawn to come down here. I never should have given you a key." He kisses her sweetly before smacking her ass and pulling away. "That's all you get."

"Hey…" she drones, clearly not ready for their moment to end.

But he doesn't relent. Turning on his heel, he slaps the doorframe before saying, "An eye for an eye, baby. You thought to deprive me of my morning meal. Now you get to go hungry."

"Let's go, Salt. I said you could unpack boxes, not stand there and look pretty."

I start toward the door to follow after him but not before teasing Mac, "Morning meal?"

"You have no idea, though I'm not sure why he called it his morning meal. It's more like every meal," she says as we walk down the hall.

"Lucky bitch."

"Yeah, well, maybe we can compare notes when I return in August. What's that saying? Like father like son? Maybe the fetish is hereditary."

I don't say anything out of fear of delusion, but it's in that same vein of fear that I find my fortitude. I can't reach for what I really want if I don't lose my fear, and I want Everett, but I'll deal with that in a few hours... after I've found my words and apparently my backbone.

Chapter 3

Everett

"Idon't know if I said it yesterday, but the place looks good, Con," I say, stepping into his office adjacent to the announcer's box. Crossing the office, I stand at the window overlooking the field. “I can't believe you're walking away for the summer."

---