Page 8 of Tangled Vows

As our session drew to a close, I regretted that our time was almost up and was trying to think of a way to prolong it. I’d asked as many questions as I could come up with, even though I already knew most of the answers. Every time I raised my hand, she pursed her lips in annoyance before calling on me. It felt like being back in school. Too bad none of my teachers had ever been as hot as Shayla. Maybe I would’ve paid closer attention in class.

Before she dismissed us, she handed us each a folder.Ugh, not this again.

“What’s this for?” I asked, casually flipping through the pages.

“These are the recipes for the sample meal plan I included in your binder. I recommend trying as many of these as you can over the next week.”

“There’s just one problem,” I said, and she quirked a brow. “I don’t cook.” I left out the part where I had a personal chef in Boston and hadn’t found a suitable replacement since moving here.

“Maybe you should give it a try,” she deadpanned. She was so over my shit, and it was absurd how much of a thrill it gave me.

“Maybe you should teach me,” I replied, lowering my voice. Her breath caught, and her eyes flared at the heat in my tone. I felt the stares of my teammates on us, but I didn’t dare look awayfrom the pupils dilating in Shayla’s gray irises. She seemed to shake herself, pinching her eyes closed for the briefest moment before settling her unimpressed gaze on me.

“There’s a QR code at the bottom of each page that will take you to an instructional video on my YouTube channel,” she announced, and my brows shot up in surprise. She had a YouTube channel? Why did it feel like watching her cook would be like watching porn? My dick stirred in my pants at the thought. I’d have to get control of myself before I stood since my gym shorts would do little to hide my growing erection. Still, I couldn’t resist an opportunity to taunt her.

“Hmm, I’ve never been very good at following along with those videos.” Not that I’d ever tried, but she didn’t need to know that. I rarely cooked, and when I did, it was simple stuff like grilled chicken or scrambled eggs, things you couldn’t mess up. “I think in-person instruction would be best,” I added, just to see how she'd react. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she huffed, crossing her arms. All it did was accentuate her ample breasts.

“You’d have to sign up for one of my cooking classes for that,” she sniped but then winced, as though she hadn’t meant to reveal that information. I hadn’t known she offered classes, and from the looks of it, she regretted mentioning it. I tucked that nugget of information away to come back to later.

“I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen. I might need a one-on-one session,” I added with a teasing lilt to my tone. Suddenly, I pictured her wearing an apron with nothing underneath and my cock, which had been at half mast, was now standing at full attention.

I was walking a thin line flirting with Shayla like this, especially in front of my teammates, but getting her riled up was quickly becoming my favorite pastime. Her jaw flexed, and she ground her teeth together.

“Unfortunately,Mr. Walker, that’s not a service I offer.”

“Maybe you could make an exception,” I said, flashing her my most charming smile. “For me,” I added as though that would sweeten the deal. A private cooking lesson with Shayla sounded like the perfect opportunity to make up for kicking her out of my hotel room a couple weeks ago.

“I don’t make exceptions,” she replied, uncrossing her arms and planting her hands on the table in front of me. She leaned forward, and my eyes dropped to where the swells of her breasts threatened to spill over her neckline. I swallowed hard, momentarily mesmerized by the glorious sight in front of me, but her sharp words brought me back to reality, and my gaze snapped to hers when she replied.

“Not even foryou.”

7

SHAYLA

Easton Walker was a pain in my ass. A thorn in my side. The bane of my existence. He made my blood boil and my heart race in equal measure. Every time he flirted with me, I almost forgot about how he’d rejected me, how seeing what was beneath my clothes sent him running for the hills. I had to remind myself that he didn’t want me. He’d made that perfectly clear when he refused to even spare my bare torso a second glance. The flirtatious little comments and playful smirks were just a taunt.

It brought back memories of junior high when Kenny Myers asked me to the sweetheart dance on a dare, knowing I had the biggest crush on him, only to humiliate me by showing up with another girl.

Easton made me feel the exact same way. I was back to being that thirteen-year-old girl with a crush on the popular boy at school whose only goal was to make me the butt of his joke. Taunting me about private cooking lessons when I knew damn well the last thing he wanted was to be alone with me; that was a low blow. I’d accepted that he didn’t want me, but I hadn’t expected him to be cruel. I’d thrown myself at him onlyto have him reject me, and now he was rubbing my unrequited attraction in my face.

All that did was strengthen my resolve. I’d stick to my original plan of avoiding men for a while. Now that the workshop was over, it would be easier to keep my distance from Easton since I’d mostly only see him in passing.

Forcing thoughts of Easton from my mind, I pulled my phone from my pocket to check for any missed calls or messages. My mom had an appointment with her oncologist today to go over the results of some scans she had done last week, and I was eagerly awaiting her call. I was hoping for good news, but there’d been a knot coiling in my stomach since the moment I sat down in that cold, sterile waiting room while they took my mom back to complete her tests.

All thoughts of Easton forgotten, I dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail and that knot grew tighter, a pang spearing through my chest. Maybe she was still there and hadn’t seen the doctor yet. Sometimes those office visits took forever if they were running behind.

That was what I told myself as I trudged back to my office so I could type up some notes on the players I’d met with. I had my work cut out for me with these guys, that much was true, but after talking with them, I realized some of their needs weren’t being met. While they were usually provided breakfast or lunch depending on their schedule, they typically finished up practices and workouts between mealtimes, and nothing was being provided to help them recover from the grueling training they were subjected to every day. They were all on their own. I needed to come up with a game plan, some way for them to get those vital nutrients in during that critical period following their workouts.

Luckily, I’d interned with a dietician for a college football team and had a couple tricks up my sleeve. I had a feeling mostof the guys wouldn’t like what I’d come up with, but it was what was best for them. I just needed to touch base with Dr. Claire Norton, the team’s physician, to get her stamp of approval before implementing the new regimen.

She didn’t hesitate to give me her blessing, so I shot off an email to Coach Bradford requesting that he have the players meet in the dining hall following practice tomorrow.

I walked out of there with a spring in my step and excited energy buzzing in my veins. But my excitement was short-lived. Because when I got home, my world came crashing down around me.

8

EASTON

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