I don't dignify that with a response.
Opening the door, I flee into the hallway, my face burning hot. My heart hammers against my ribs as I speed walk down the corridor, passing door after door until I'm safely around the corner.
This is fine. Everything is fine. So what if I just verbally sparred with my brother's best friend while he was naked? So what if those green eyes are now permanently burned into my retinas? So what if some disloyal part of my brain is replaying the way his legs moved when he...
No. Absolutely not. We're not going there.
I take a deep breath, then another, and finally spot Dr. Logan walking toward me from the opposite end of the hallway. He's an unremarkable-looking man with a fatherly smile.
“Dr. Chandler.” He waves. “There you are. Sorry I'm late. There was an emergency meeting with the head coach. Ready to get started?”
“Absolutely.” Smoothing down my cardigan, I force my brightest professional smile. “Let's do this.”
The rest of the morning passes in a blur of introductions, facility tours, and protocol reviews. Dr. Logan walks me through the state-of-the-art equipment, introducing the training staff and outlining the team’s current injury prevention protocols. It's fascinating work. Exactly what I've been dreaming about for years.
I manage not to think about Declan Hawthorne.
Much.
Okay, that's a lie. I think about him approximately sixty times, but I'm excellent at compartmentalization.
It’s well past noon by the time Dr. Logan finishes the tour and shows me my temporary office.
My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped breakfast in my nerves. I reach into my bag to grab my phone and text Sloane about lunch.
My fingers close on nothing.
I freeze.
I dig again. Deeper this time. Notebook. Pens. Protein bar. Hand sanitizer. A sad granola bar from last week.
No phone.
My pulse kicks up. “No. No, no, no.”
I dump my bag onto the desk. Everything spills out in a mess of paper and plastic.
Still nothing.
I must’ve lost it somewhere between the lobby this morning and now. In a building this size, that means anywhere. I let out a shaky breath and start retracing my steps.
2
DECLAN
King
I’m still chuckling when the door clicks shut behind her.
Actually—no.
I’m fucking grinning.
I adjust the towel at my hips, making sure it’s secure this time, and shake my head. Jesus. This Ivy woman stormed out looking like she just got hit with a puck she never saw coming.
Fun.
Really fun.
