Page 30 of Something Like That

Instead, he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together. Rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and silky. Everywhere. His fingertips still tingled from when he’d brushed the skin of her back.

And if he didn’t stop thinking about her skin, he was going to be walking funny. As it was, he was already semi-hard. He’d never been happier that his coat was long enough to cover the front of his jeans.

Hand in hand, they walked back the way they’d come. She leaned against him, her head resting against his upper arm. The moment felt intimate and special. Whatever was between them probably should have freaked him out, but for some reason, he was calm. Everything about this moment felt… right.

Like they were supposed to find each other again. Like what they’d had before, when they were kids, was the start of something, but the timing was wrong. So the universe pushed them apart, had them live their lives, just waiting for the moment to be right.

And he needed to stop being such a fucking sap.

He pulled her to a stop at the edge of the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change so they could cross. The trek down from the Market hadn’t seemed that long, but now, the way back seemed to stretch on forever.

He’d taken an Uber this morning. However, she’d parked in the parking garage at the Market, so they needed to make their way back there so she could grab her car.

Part of him was afraid that, by the time they got back to the parking garage, she was going to come to her senses and tell him she’d changed her mind and he could fuck off.

Someone to his right shouted, and he looked over just in time to see an asshole on a bike headed right for them. He wrapped his arms around her and spun them around so she was out of the line of fire.

His bad knee twisted, shooting a streak of pain down his leg.

“Fuck.” The curse came out as a growl. He shifted his weight onto his good leg, although the pain in his knee had already stopped.

Alex, who’d turned to glare at the asshole on the bike, snapped her gaze back to him. Her eyebrows slammed together, her professional mask descending so fast, he wanted to scream in frustration.

“What happened?” She searched his face and then dropped her gaze to his bad leg. “Your knee.” Not a question, a statement.

She squatted down, running her hands over his denim clad leg. Dammit, this was not how he wanted this afternoon to go. And definitely not how he wanted her touching him when she was on her knees.

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about that shit. This was already embarrassing enough.

“It’s fine.” His voice came out way scratchier and snappier than he intended.

She looked up at him. He was struck again by how beautiful she was. How badly he wanted to rewind and go back to just the two of them on the pier.

She shook her head. “We can’t take that chance.” She stood up and pulled her phone out of her shoulder bag. “This is too important. I’m recommending an MRI, just to make sure.” She pushed a button on her phone and lifted it to her ear. “Hi, yes, this is Alex Dumont. I’m a local strength and conditioning coach and I have a patient that is five months post op on an unhappy triad who may have reinjured the joint. We need an MRI ASAP.”

He rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb. Tension crept into his back and neck. He gingerly placed a little more pressure on his bad leg. No immediate acute pain, which was good. It was really more like a dull ache.

Fuck.

Why hadn’t he been paying closer attention? This could have been avoided if he’d been conscious of his surroundings. Or if he hadn’t been so enamored by Alex.

This is why you shouldn’t be letting yourself get distracted. You’ve worked too hard to have it all end because of you let your cock lead the show.

Jesus, what if this was a huge setback to his recovery? It didn’t feel too bad, but that didn’t mean anything. He needed to get back in the lineup before the end of the season. That was all that mattered, and he’d better fucking start remembering that.

She ended the call and tucked the phone back into her bag. “They’ll be able to get you in this afternoon.”

“Okay,” he said, because really, what else could he say?

“I’ll call us a cab. I can come back and get my car after.”

He glanced at her. She must have realized the way that sounded, because her eyes widened a touch. “I mean later.”

“Okay.”

She waited a beat, her gaze searching his face. Her shoulders slumped. The movement was slight, but he saw it.

An ache wound its way through his chest. He knew he was being curt, and a huge asshole, but honestly, it was better this way. He’d gotten carried away and let himself get off track. This was his wake-up call.