I wanted to kiss him.
I knew he wanted it, too, but the fear of rejection held me back. I looked at his mouth, hating myself for not taking the chance, and I scooted away. “Uh, be right back.”
I panicked and ran to the bathroom in a total escape. I was being a chicken, but I didn’t care. I leaned against the sink, running some water on my hands to cool my neck down. Thirty seconds of deep, soothing breaths did nothing to calm the pitter-patter of my heart, and I slammed my hips onto the sink when he knocked on the door. “Grace, are you okay?”
“Y-yeah. Are you?” Shame had my entire body heating. He thought I wasn’t okay. Like, I had some wicked scar that cost me everything.
“I know it’s not. I know it’s hard to look at. I put my shirt back on.” His defeated voice felt like a stab completely through my heart.Good lord.He thought the scar made me run away? I whipped open the door so fast my hair blew in my face. I hated the sadness in his eyes.
“Brock. I didn’t run in here because of your scar. I told you, it’s beautiful.” I elongated each syllable, so he would understand. He nodded, slowly, but recognition entered his eyes. “You’re kind of dense sometimes.”
“Dense?” He blinked at my insult.
“Yes.” I turned the light off and went up to him with arms wide. “I know you hate pity. This isn’t a pity hug. It’s anI’m glad I met youhug. That’s all this is, okay?”
“Okay.” He smiled at me, pulling me into his chest with his arms. I closed my eyes, desperately wishing I could change his past. “I’m glad I met you, too.”
We stood there, arms wrapped around each other with feelings left unsaid, and my uncomfortable defense mechanism kicked in. It was too much, too fast, and he was my boss. Crossing that line meant risking my future. “Tell me about the Rodeo.”
“Ah, hell. Did my dad tell you about it?” He pulled away from the embrace, but he kept his arm around me and guided us back to the living room.
“Yup. I’m curious.”
“Fine.” He grabbed the remote and ice and gave me a pointed look. “GetTheOfficeset up, and I’ll start. It’s a long story, and you may never look at me the same again.”
“I can’t wait.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Internship.Class. Football. Sleep. Repeat.
I was so damn tired, I’d thanked elevator doors for opening. God, I needed more sleep. Or coffee. Or both. I yawned, running my hands down my face and digging deep down to find more energy. It was a Tuesday, so I had class right after work, and it was transcript and resume time. If I wanted a job or career after graduation, I needed to kick my ass into gear.
“Grace!” Brock’s voice boomed down the hallway. “Got a minute, or am I interrupting you from talking to someone important?”
“Shit.” I closed my eyes, embarrassment flowing through me. “I have a minute.”
“Do you often talk to inanimate objects, or is this a one-time thing?” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.
“Can it, boss man.” I shrugged his hand off and fell into step with him. It was barely noon, and most of the players were watching film. The first high stakes game was Friday, and tension was high. No, it was worse than high. It was almost stifling. The only people not walking around with a stick up their ass were the training staff. Logan looked like he had been trying to hold in a fart as he walked by and barely gave me a small wave. They all had resting-fart faces with the stress of the game. “Are you here to make fun of me, or do you need something?”
“Why limit myself to just one of those?” He chuckled again, motioning me to head into his office. His hand went to my lower back again, the warmth spreading through my work shirt. Damn his large hands and the inappropriate thoughts they evoked.
“I refuse to believe you haven’t apologized to a chair or said excuse me to a piece of furniture before. Everyone has,” I scoffed, taking the seat across from his desk.
His light blue eyes danced with humor. And, it was all directed at me.
“Okay. From your look, I’m taking that as a no. You are much too cool to admit it.”
“I am cool,” he said with a lazy grin. I rolled my eyes and leaned my elbows on the desk. “Anyway, I got an email from your professor with an end of internship assessment. We are supposed to go through it together. I figured today is a lazy day around here, so it would be easy to knock out.”
My heart sunk at the harsh reminder that my time was ending. A bittersweet pang went down my spine, making my smile twist into a grimace. I loved working here, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the internship or to Brock. “Okay. Sounds great.”
He tapped his hand on the desk twice and spun around to grab some papers. “Let’s see, first question. Has the intern exceeded, met, or did not meet the job expectations? What do you think, Grace?”
“I exceeded,” I said, giving him a stern look. “Do you agree?”
“Without a doubt.” He grinned, writing some comments down. “You are one of the hardest working people I have had here. But, did you demonstrate mastery of the course objectives? That is the real question.”
