Page 47 of Mr. Charming

She sits at a small table, and my gaze shifts to the door that must lead to the bedroom area.

“Why do you want to see me?” I ask, ignoring all my instincts when it comes to her and sitting across the table from her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this on the plane.”

My body goes into high alert. My gaze flies to her left ring finger, but it’s bare. Then again, maybe they eloped or went to city hall or something and didn’t have time to get a ring. “What?”

She’s quiet. Whatever she has to tell me, she doesn’t want to. It’s written all over her face, and her body language screams it.

I’m thrust back into that hotel room three years ago when things between us fractured for the last time.

“Bud wants me to center the campaign around you,” she says.

I don’t really see why that’s bad until she continues.

“He wants it to be portrayed as this is your last year with the league. Like, will you get signed for next year or not?”

My blood boils. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I bolt up from my chair and turn, pushing a hand through my hair.

“He’s an asshole, Tweetie.” She’s behind me immediately, her hand on my back. “If he doesn’t know what he has, then he shouldn’t be a GM.”

I can’t even listen to her try to pick up my spirits.

“Did he say that he isn’t going to extend my contract?” I circle around, and she’s quick to shake her head. Slight relief soothes my blood.

“No. I asked him point-blank, and he wouldn’t tell me, but he made it seem like he’s…”

“Just fucking say it, Tedi.” I prop my hands on my waist.

She swallows and her eyes glisten with wetness. “He seemed like he was on the fence.”

My head falls back. “Fucking hell.”

She places her hands on my arms. The impulse to wrap my arms around her and pull her in is a living, breathing entity inside me.

“He’s probably playing a game,” she says. “I don’t trust him, and neither should you.”

“I have to go.” I step back, and her hands fall off me. As much as I hate it, it’s necessary if I’m going to keep my head on straight.

“Just wait. Let’s talk about this.” She follows me to the door, and when I put my hand on the knob, her hand covers mine. “Don’t leave.”

I close my eyes to center myself, but her chest to my back feels so good, so right. All I want to do is push all this pain away by sliding into her. To let her soothe the unbearable anger rising up inside me.

Fuck Bud Caldron.

I turn and rest my back on the door. Both of our hands slide off the doorknob.

“I’m so pissed.” I scrub my face with my hands.

“I know. I was mad for you, but you need to channel it into your game tonight.”

God, she looks so good. I’ve been starving for the sight of her, and my gaze dips down her body. I swear I hear a slight moan slip from her lips. My hands fall to her hips before I can stop myself.

“Tweetie.” Her voice is barely a whisper, her eyes wide.

I step forward, turning her so her back is to the door, then I rest one arm above her head and keep the other one on her hip. “You know it’s always been you, right?”

I don’t know why I say it. It’s the truth, no doubt, but why I’m confessing it to her here, I don’t know.

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