Against every instinct, every rule I’ve set for myself, I nod.
“Okay. But we have to be careful.”
“I can do careful.”
“You? The guy who almost kissed me in his office with the door wide open?”
He grins. “I said Icando careful. I didn’t say I’m good at it.”
I laugh despite the tension, and he pulls me into a hug. It’s not romantic, not overtly sexual. Just warm and solid and right in a way that terrifies me.
“Goodnight, Olivia,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Goodnight, Carter.”
I pull away first, because if I don’t, I won’t. And as I slide into my car and watch him walk to his truck, I realize something that makes my chest ache:
I’m not falling for Carter Storm.
I’ve already fallen.
And I have absolutely no idea how to climb back out.
Chapter Ten
Carter
Game day.
The energy in the locker room is electric, all testosterone and adrenaline and pre-game rituals. Tank’s blasting music from his phone. Derek’s doing his usual pacing, headphones in, eyes closed. Marcus sits in front of his locker, perfectly still, hands folded, centering himself.
And I’m trying not to think about Olivia.
Failing spectacularly.
It’s been three days since that dinner. Three days of careful professionalism. Of standing just a little too far apart. Of conversations that stay safely within the bounds of work. Of text messages that say everything and nothing at all.
Olivia:Good luck today. You’ve got this.
Me:Thanks. You coming to the game?
Olivia:Press box. Part of the job.
Me:See you after?
Three dots. They appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Olivia:Maybe. Depends on how the media wants to spin things.
Translation: depends on whether we can risk being seen together.
I shove my phone in my locker harder than necessary.
“Easy there, Storm.” Derek drops onto the bench beside me, grinning. “You trying to break it or just pissed at the world?”
“Neither.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans back, studying me. “You’ve been wound tight all week. What’s going on?”
