Page 31 of Unravel Me

“Teacher?”

“Nope.”

“Realtor?”

“Cold.”

“Police officer?”

“Colder.”

“Heavy equipment operator? Accountant? Do you work in HVAC? Oh my God.” I spin toward him, nearly crawling into his lap. “Are you a private detective?”

He laughs, snaking his arm around my waist, pulling me between his legs, back against his chest. The thunder of his heart gives way to his nerves as I wait for his answer.

“I’m a, uh…” He clears his throat. “I work with athletes.”

“Athletes? Like, sports teams?”

He swallows. “Professional ones.”

“Oh.” My nose wrinkles. “Uh-oh.”

He stiffens. “What?”

“I don’t know anything about sports. I have no talking points. I’m sorry. I can barely tell a baseball glove from a hockey mitten.”

He snorts a beautiful, glorious laugh. “Glove.”

I lean to the side so I can look at him over my shoulder. “Huh?”

“Hockey glove, not mitten. Unless you’re talking about what the goalie wears, then that’s a catcher and a blocker. And actually, mitt is perfectly acceptable for baseball gloves, especially the catcher’s mitt.” He chuckles, poking the dimple in my chin. “But not hockey gloves.”

“That’s just confusing. They all go on your hands. Why so many different names?”

“Truthfully, I don’t know.”

“What do you do with the athletes at work?”

Blue eyes meet mine, and the worry there, the grief, it steals my breath, digs a hole in my chest and carves a home that aches. I’m not sure what he’s looking for as his gaze roams my face, but if it’ll take away this heaviness, I hope he finds it.

Instead, he drops his gaze. When he looks back at me, it’s with a reservation that dulls the sparkle in his eyes, seems unnatural on such a kind, open man.

“A little bit of everything,” he finally tells me, trailing his finger across the nick on my knee from shaving. “Training, nutrition, traveling.” His mouth quirks, and he winks. “All the boring stuff.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Very much. Wouldn’t trade it for any other job.”

“That’s what matters, isn’t it? Too many people spend their days being miserable at work. Life is far too short to not love what you do.”

Adam smiles at me. “You’re right. What’s life if it isn’t full of what you love?”

“Does it bother you I’m not into sports?”

“Not at all. It’s refreshing. Gives me something else to talk about.”

I cover his hand on my thigh. “Will you tell me more about you? I want to know everything.”

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