Page 55 of Sweet Spot
Potter leaves her at the start of seventeen. She’s in eighth place and solidly out of the running for placing today.
She doesn’t so much as side-eye anyone on those last two holes. Retreating deeper into herself until all signs of the confident, capable woman I know are gone.
I wait for her in the clubhouse. Two of her teammates flank her on each side. They offer hugs and high-fives, but Keira’s grim expression doesn’t change.
When she finally approaches me, she looks completely broken. I rub at the sharp pain in the middle of my chest and force a pep in my step as I close the distance between us.
Instead of speaking, I wrap my arms around her and cradle her head against my chest. Any anger she was holding on to turns to sadness, and she buries her face into my shirt and cries. My hands tremble as I run my fingers down her hair and caress the back of her neck.
“Hey, you’re good,” I whisper so only she can hear. “I’ve got you.”
Her hold on my waist tightens and her entire body leans into me like I’m the only thing keeping her upright. She’s a fragile, beautiful thing in my arms and I’ve never felt more helpless or more needed.
“I’ve got you,” I repeat. “I’ve got you.”
* * *
Keira is at dinner with the team, and I’m in my hotel room, shifting around my meetings for tomorrow morning. Originally, I planned to head out tonight, but there’s no way I’m leaving now.
There will be other tournaments; she’ll get more chances. I know it, she knows it, but that isn’t the point.
It’s after eight and my eyes are crossing from staring at financial reports when my phone pings.
Keira: Thanks for coming today. We just got back from dinner, and I’m gonna crash. You’re probably already on a plane back to Arizona. Anyway, I’m sure you have notes for me from today’s performance. I know I fell into some of my bad habits at the end. I can fix it. Please don’t give up on me yet.
Jesus. What the hell did Potter say to her? She spent the last three hours with her teammates and coach, I assumed that was for the best. They could girl talk or whatever, maybe Potter would have some encouraging words. She sounds just as defeated as when I left her.
Me: I’m still here. Can you come down for a few minutes?
Keira: You’re still here?
Me: Yes.
I’m holding my phone, waiting for her response, tapping my thumb against the device, when someone knocks lightly on my door.
I pull it open without checking, already figuring that it’s her, and damn, maybe I should have. She looks every bit the young, beautiful college girl she is wearing cut-off denim shorts, a gray T-shirt, and orange flip-flops. Her hair is down, and her face is free of makeup. She steps inside and the door closes behind her.
The determination and focus she wears like armor on most days is totally stripped away. She walks to the center of the room and then turns to me. Her brown eyes glisten as if she’s on the verge of tears. “If you’re going to drop me as a client, just tell me now.”
Um, what? My face contorts with confusion, but she doesn’t allow me to get a word in.
“I get it. I screwed up today.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and one tear slips from the corner. She swipes it away with the palm of her hand and then tilts her head up and bats her eyelashes as if she’s annoyed that she’s crying and trying to stop. “I embarrassed you, my team, my coa—”
My mouth is on hers, silencing the nonsense spilling out before I’ve decided I wanted to act. Though, it feels like the best decision I’ve made in a long time.
Her lips soften and mold to mine before responding. When she kisses me back, it’s with her whole body. She steps against me and places her hands on my chest before breaking the kiss and looking up at me.
It’s an unspoken question, a dare to do it again, or maybe a chance to change my mind. Fuck that. As hard as I’ve tried to keep her at arms-length, Keira has always been more than some client.
This time when I take her lips, there’s no hesitation from either of us. My hands thread through her hair and tilt her head back. Deepening the kiss, my hands fall to her waist and around to cup her ass. She pulls her head back and peers up at me but doesn’t break the contact of our bodies. I take a moment to drink her in. Lips wet, face flushed, her chest rises and falls with breathless excitement. She’s stunning.
“You kissed me.” Her voice hides none of the shock or want I can see on her face.
“Correction. I’mkissingyou. I’m not even close to done.”
21
Keira
