Page 62 of Irresistibly Risky

I’m not him, and that’s what’s important.

Me proving that to her.

“I don’t know,” she hesitates, still so goddamn uncertain and rattled.

“I do. Don’t fight it. Let me take care of you the way you take care of everyone else.”

I exit the bathroom so she can get ready for bed, and while she does that, I text Freddy, Hunter, and Jean to inform them I will never take their date suggestions again. They’re already over it. According to them, us at dinner is all over the internet, so mission accomplished.

Whatever. Who cares.

I hear Wynter entering the bedroom, and I turn around to find her wearing a T-shirt and possibly nothing else. I look—I can’t help it with her—but I don’t linger. Instead, I switch out the light, bathing us both in darkness. Wordlessly she climbs into bed, and I follow her, using my good arm to hold her.

She settles against my chest, but I can tell the damage has been done, and I’m still not her favorite person. But if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have cared that I was on a date. And if she hated me, she wouldn’t allow me to hold her now.

That’s something to build on.

Until then, I plant my lips in her hair, and I hold her body against mine until she falls asleep. And with her body limp against mine, I make a decision. No more fucking around. Wynter Hathaway is mine.

17

“No. I won’t do it.” My words are sharp, refusing to be challenged. Yet the asshole does it anyway.

“Yes, you will,” Joe states calmly from behind his desk, his hands neatly folded on top of the wood. Hell, I hate this man. “It’s part of your job requirement here. You have to travel with the team for games. Last week you didn’t because of Asher’s surgery. This week you have no excuse.”

Except for a son I don’t want him to know about. A son I have with his injured quarterback.

“You have an orthopedist on staff, and I am only licensed in Florida and Massachusetts. If I travel with the team, it’s not like I’m about to do any sort of surgery until the team returns home. Anything emergent would have to be done by a local physician.”

“I don’t care. Team doctors travel with the team.”

I grit my teeth. “I do not work for the team. I work for the hospital.”

His green eyes hold mine. Green eyes that match my own. That match my son’s. “You are the team orthopedic surgeon for the season, Wynter. You will travel with us to Cincinnati on Saturday for the game Sunday.”

“No.” My insides fester. How do I get out of this without telling him I have a son I won’t leave? I may work long hours, but traveling for work isn’t part of my gig. No matter what, I see my son every day. He is always my first priority. That was the promise I made to him when I held him in my arms for the first time. I refuse to be away for a minimum of seven weekends over the next four months.

“Yes.”

I plant my hands on the other side of his desk, beyond furious. “Find another surgeon, Joe. I don’t want to be here. I did Asher’s surgery, and it’s done. You didn’t need me to travel last week with the team, and now suddenly you do? I’m calling bullshit. Why the fuck do I still have to be here?”

“Because I want you here.”

I hate how calm he is. Always so cool. So apathetic.

“Why? I’ve already told you I don’t want you in my life. Stop trying to steal a piece of it now. It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late.”

His words freeze me in place, stealing the air from my lungs. My first thought is that moving here was a mistake. Only it’s difficult to think that after the last two weeks with Asher. Mason is in love with him. Totally. Completely. In. Love. He laughs at everything Asher says and does. Crawls over to him for hugs and snuggles every chance he gets. Prefers Asher to feed him dinner because—let’s face it—Asher is a lot more fun than I am.

It’s been cruelly beautiful watching my son bond with his father. And watching Asher fall just as much in love with him.

But now it’s Tuesday, Asher’s surgery was a week ago, and I’m forced to deal with yet another emotional blow. This one is from the man who started them all. At least the scratch on my cheek and any redness that had been there are already gone.

I straighten my spine. “I’m not traveling with the team, and that’s final. Feel free to fire me.”

A knock on the door interrupts us. “Come in!” Joe barks.

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