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She rolls her eyes, then opens the back door and tosses her bag onto the back seat. She doesn’t even glance my way when she gets into the front seat and starts the car.

I knock on the car window, pushing my luck. Her hands are tightly gripping the steering wheel. She sighs, and for the first time, I wonder if keeping the wall between us is a real effort for her. After a pause, she reluctantly rolls down the window.

She doesn’t bother turning in my direction, instead looking straight ahead.

Here goes nothing. My last-ditch effort.

“Shayna, I know I’ve been pestering you about forgiving me and it’s clear that you have no intention of doing so and I guess as much as I hate it, that’s fair. I hurt you, and I really am sorry. I should’ve told you right away about the bet so that we could’ve moved forward and put it behind us—if that would’ve even been possible. Maybe things would’ve been different. But I’m not trying to make your life miserable again, so I’ll back off. I hope at some point we can become friends or, at the bare minimum, friendly colleagues. Regardless, I’ll stop putting pressure on you to forgive me. I did what I did, and I have to live with the consequences. But please know that I do regret hurting you and screwing up a good thing between us. If you do ever want to talk about it, even if it’s just to cuss me out, you know where to find me.” I tap the roof of her car and turn and walk away toward my SUV, feeling unsettled.

I haven’t felt this down since the Kingsmen didn’t make it to the playoffs last year. I guess you reap what you sow.

Ten

Shayna

Maybe things would have been different.

Lee’s words have run on repeat through my head for the past two weeks since I ran into him at the gym, and I hate it. I kick myself for giving any kind of mental space to what might’ve been between Lee Burrows and me.

When I accepted the position with Kingsmen, I knew working with him every day would be a challenge, but I honestly thought that our interactions would be minimal and we could pretend the past didn’t exist. I had no idea he’d even care or remember me.

So far, that plan has been blown to smithereens because Lee definitely still affects me. Not only does he remember me, but he’s also dying for my forgiveness.

He’s a man of his word though, because he pretty much steers clear of me. When we do have to interact, he keeps things cool and professional. I wish I could say that makes me happy, but the truth is that I’m more agitated than ever toward him. Which brings up the question, what do I want? Because I’m not happy with either option.

Was I just enjoying his attention before and I couldn’t admit it to myself? Purposely being bitchy about something that happened eight years ago? And if so, what does that say about me?

Now that training camp is over and the team’s roster is complete, to celebrate, as well as raise money for a local charity, there’s a gala this evening. Everyone from the Kingsmen is invited, as well as members of the press, and even though I should probably be excited, I’m dreading it because all the attention will be on Lee. I’ll have to watch everyone fawn over him all night, proclaiming what an amazing guy he is.

Plus, I know he’s probably going to look hot as hell in a tuxedo and have women surrounding him all night. Which will only agitate me even more.

My Uber driver pulls up in front of Bryce’s place. I text Bryce to let her know we’re here, and she appears a minute later. Every member of the team is allowed to have a plus-one with them tonight, and Bryce is mine, even though she could attend anyway with her press credentials.

She slides into the back seat beside me. “Love the hair.”

I finger the pearl-covered clip holding my hair back on one side of my head. The rest of my hair is set in waves so it reaches just below my shoulders.

I’ve really grown to like Bryce in the few weeks we’ve known each other. It doesn’t hurt that she can help a girl feel confident when she’s unsure. Tonight is my first social event with the team. I’m confident when I’m at work, assessing a player and putting a plan together for their treatment, but not so much when I’m hobnobbing with the players, their significant others, and the team executives.

I may not be the same shy, introverted girl anymore, but I’m out of my element with these types of things. Bryce, on the other hand, thrives in the type of environment we’re heading into tonight, so I’m happy to have her by my side.

We reach the hotel, exit the Uber, and make our way inside. The hotel is beautiful and reminiscent of the Gilded Age with its beautiful carved moldings and exquisite chandeliers. Bryce leads us toward the ballroom—she’s been to this event for a few years in a row since she started with theChronicle.

We stop at the coat check just outside the ballroom, and we each hand over our coats and take our tickets from the attendant.

“Wow. You look smoking.” Bryce eyes me from head to toe.

I smooth my palm over the red fabric of my dress with the hand not holding my black clutch. “Are you sure? I’m second-guessing going for such a bold color.”

I chose a deep-red floor-length dress that swoops down in the front and has a sort of half cape that skims over my shoulders and hangs behind my arms and back. I thought it was elegant when I tried it on, but now I’m second-guessing the cleavage for a work event.

“Do not second-guess that dress. It’s gorgeous and so are you.”

Leaning into her, I say in a low voice, “I’m not showing too much boob?”

“Tits are always in, my friend.” She laughs. “Seriously though, your dress is stunning. You have nothing to worry about. Just look around at the amount of boobs getting air time in this place.”

I scan our immediate area and see that she’s right. All kinds of women are showing more cleavage than me, and they look classy and elegant. I’m not going to stand out any more than them.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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