As I opened the door to Jen’s office, on my way to pour myself another cup of coffee, I was met with a familiar blue stare. Instead of voicing my displeasure at being disturbed, my resolve crumbled when I saw how the bruise had darkened below his left eye.
“Fin.”
“I was about to head out, and since I hadn’t seen you around…”
I lifted my fingers to my lips and scrunched my nose. “Your eye…does it hurt?”
“Not as much as being plowed down.” He lifted his duffel bag. “The trainers have some remedies in here to make everything better.”
We had Jen’s attention.
I opened my office door wider. “Do you have a minute to discuss the offensive plays? I wanted to talk to Drew, but time has gotten away from me, and I’m sure he’s busy.”
Fin’s smile quirked and his chiseled chin pulled tight. “Certainly, Ms. Hubbard. I can discuss the calls of yesterday’s game.”
My insides twisted as Fin walked past me. Instead of his sandalwood cologne, there was a fresh, recently showered scent to him. The leather loafers, pants, and button-down from last night were gone, replaced withhis casual workout attire—nylon shorts and a Coopers t-shirt. I closed the door.
As the door clicked, Fin grinned. “What plays would you like to discuss?”
“I have a list, but first, I wanted to apologize.”
His smile dimmed as he took a step closer. “For what?”
His proximity was a problem, as if he sent out signals capable of scrambling my thoughts. I took a step back. “Umm, I have no excuse for what I did last night. If you want to report me to HR, I won’t argue.”
Fin’s laugh filled the room. “I took advantage of a woman who drank too many cosmos without eating. It seems to me that I should be the one to apologize.”
“Okay.” That would be good.
“Okay?” He lifted his eyebrows. “I should, but I’m not going to. An apology would suggest that I was remorseful about what occurred or that I wouldn’t do it again.” He quirked his brow. “And neither of those scenarios are true. Given the opportunity, I’d repeat everything again right here, today, tomorrow, the next day... Are you catching on to the pattern?”
“Fin, we can’t.”
“You told me last night you ended things with Preston.” He scrunched his nose. “It was the horse manure, wasn’t it?”
I reached for my temples. “Stop.”
“Oh, you don’t mind the smell of horse shit.”
Taking a deep breath, I stood taller. “I’m not going to discuss Preston’s and my relationship with you.”
“I’m just trying to figure out your reservation.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “My reservation. I’m management and you’re a player.”
“And I’m a guy and you’re a woman. I’m quite sure we fit well together. At least we did. And last night, you were sexy as hell.”
Ignoring the twisting deep inside me, I tried to change the subject. Jutting my chin toward his duffel bag now lying on the floor, I asked, “What did the trainers give you to help you heal? Is it for that shiner?”
He exhaled. “The shiner is fake. It’s for sympathy.”
I leaned back, focusing on the swollen skin.
“I’m teasing, Vee. My face will heal. They prescribed no physical activity until Wednesday morning.” He tipped his chin toward the bag. “They set me up with a shoulder wrap. I’ll be attached to an electrical socket, but it alternates heat and cool automatically every twenty minutes.”
“Shoulder,” I said, furrowing my brow. “Is your shoulder hurt?”
“Not hurt. A bit sore.”
