Page 48 of The Problem with Players

I opened the door and stepped to the side so she could enter. She walked in, glanced around the penthouse, and muttered something. She turned to face me and raised an eyebrow. “I read that you lost your penthouse.”

“Can’t believe everything you read online,” I told her as I tossed my keys into the basket on the table in my foyer. “Especially when it comes from tabloids.”

Avery took off her shoes, and I did the same. We placed them beneath the front hall table and stood still for a moment. She took off her baseball cap, revealing the flowers in her hair from her wedding updo.

I felt a tightness in my chest. I couldn’t differentiate whether it was her aching or my own. All I knew was that I wanted to slowly pick those damn flowers out of her hair and tell her everything would be all right.

“Can I take a shower?” she asked. Her eyes lifted and she met my stare. A wave of tears settled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. That wasn’t shocking. “I need to get out of this damn dress.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll grab some of my sweats and get you setup. If you want, I can run you a bath in my primary bathroom. It’s huge and relaxing. I got lavender bubble bath soap, Epsom salts, and bath bombs, too.”

She tilted her head. “You still take baths?”

“Ever since you told me how good they were for muscle recovery, I’m kind of a bath snob.”

“I always did give you the best ideas.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “You did.”

She almost smiled, and I almost loved it.“Stop trying to make me not hate you anymore.”

I laughed. “Did you already forget that I get turned on by your hatred, Coach?”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you draw me a bath?”

I stepped closer to her and removed one of the flowers from her hair. My hand slightly brushed against her cheek as I nodded slowly. “I can draw you a bath.”

Her mouth slightly parted, and I was almost certain a sarcastic comment was going to fall from her lips. Instead, her eyes shut, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, and her body shivered.

“You don’t have to do this, Ave,” I muttered, watching her fight like hell to keep from breaking. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong today.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because being weak never helped me before.” She shook her softness away, and I watched her eyes harden once more as her browns reappeared. She swiped away the tears that snuck past her stubbornness and rolled her shoulders back.

“Will you draw me a bath?” she asked once more.

“I will draw you a bath,” I echoed.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Be right back. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.Though I haven’t been here in a while, so I’m sure it’s all expired.”

“If I recall correctly, you had no problem eating expired food.”

“Butter and eggs don’t expire,” I countered.

“Butter and eggsdefinitelyexpire,” she disagreed. “And so does cheese.”

“If there’s no green, it’s good to go.”

She shook her head in disapproval. “That’s how you ended up with food poisoning way back when.”

“I still think it was a twelve-hour flu.”

“That’s because you’re hardheaded.”

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