Page 70 of Forced Proximity

Hip shimmies. I might cut him off for the sheer purpose of saving his reputation.

An hour later, my cell pings with an email from Marcus. Subject line: Potential Person of Interest.

Marcus: Doc, ask Justin and those closest to him if anyone recognizes this man. They stopped him twice trying to breach the studio lot while Justin was there. May be nothing.

I scan the photos of a short, mid-40s, broad-shouldered white man with shaggy dark hair and thick frames. Nothing about his photo rings a bell.

The initial catering crew had done a great job of cleaning before leaving for a break, but plates, drinks and leftover food scatter the counter. I push a few items to the side and prop open the laptop next to Zane. ‘Have you ever seen this guy before?’

Zane leans into the screen. ‘Can we zoom in?’

‘We can, but it’ll be more pixilated,’ I say. ‘Try scrolling in and out.’

Zane scrolls with a frown. ‘Doesn’t look familiar. Who is he?’

‘Marcus got these photos from the studio security team. This guy tried to sneak into the studio twice when Justin was there. Most likely a coincidence. We want—’

Angry shouts erupting from the living room break the conversation. What the hell? I leap from my chair, my heart in my throat and sprint from the room.

Chapter 33

Justin

This is a bullshit call, and everyone knows it. The Bears are losing by a landslide. Half the people in my living room aren’t even paying attention to the game anymore, but me and a buddy saw the play and there’s no fucking way it was targeting. We’re screaming at the TV like we can single-handedly change the call, when Doc rushes between me and my friend.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks, her gaze trailing me, then pins a hard glare at my friend. He steps back a few feet and raises his hands.

Jesus Christ, she’s sexy when she’s intense. She’s sexy when she’s walking, talking, fucking breathing. Everything she does gets me right here.

And I can’t do a single thing about it.

‘Oh shit, sorry, Doc, I’m good, I’m good,’ I say, touching her arm. ‘Officials made a terrible call.’

I leave my hand on her arm too long. I shouldn’t, but I do. I know it’s stupid. But I’m almost five lagers deep, my defenses are hazy and I’m tired of holding back my feelings. So, a hand on her arm it is.

Her chest softens. ‘Football sucks,’ she says with a grin, then tugs me to the side. ‘Sorry to break up your fun, but can you take a quick peek at this photo and tell me if you recognize this guy?’

I glance at the picture on her phone and use the excuse to lean in closer. Her shoulder brushes mine, her hips press into my hip, and even though I don’t recognize the guy in the picture, I study it for way longer than necessary just to feel her next to me.

Not until the game ends, and the final guest leaves, does the sensation of Doc’s body pressing into mine finally fade. And now, I want more. I probably shouldn’t grab another beer, but I do. It’s been a long time since I let loose like this, and my brain needs to stop spinning.

I crack open the bottle and tip it back, the suds passing over my muted tastebuds. Tonight was fun, hanging out with my old teammates and a few friends. Everyone must’ve heard about Conner, because not a single person brought him up, even though this is the first football party I’ve thrown where he hasn’t attended.

‘Hey you,’ Doc says, holding a small plate of food, and sinking into her spot on the couch.

Her spot. On the couch. I love that she’s so comfortable here, that it seems so natural. Like we’ve both worked all day, and now it’s the end of the day where we talk about what happened. Like a couple. I know we’re not a couple. I’m not an idiot. It’s just reminiscent of what a couple would be like.

But she told me, loud and clear, when she came back, that the condition of this is no more blurred lines. So, for now, I’m sucking it in.

‘You look like you have the weight of the world on your mind. You good?’ She grabs a water for herself from the ice bucket on the table, then sets one in front of me. I should probably drink it, but right now, it feels good to not feel everything.

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ I pull a long sip of lager then scrape my thumb across the label. ‘Honestly, it felt a little weird to not have Conner here.’

A heavy breath leaves her. ‘I’m sorry with all the shit that happened you lost a friend,’ she says, and pats the top of my hand. She leaves it there for only a moment before she removes it.

I want it back.

I haven’t taken time to process the end of me and Conner’s friendship. It’s not the first scuffle we’ve ever been in, but we both know it’s the last. ‘It’s been a lot of years coming.’ I finish the rest of the beer and grab another. ‘You ever have someone in your life because of legacy? Conner’s an asshole. But we were teammates, you know? I let so much shit slide because of history … and it affected you.’