My phone’s been buzzing on and off for the past few days with messages from Coach Sanders. With the holidays, we’ve been playing phone tag. The wait has been eating at me. I could use some good news right now.
The whispers are starting to get under my skin. It’s to be expected when you’re back in your hometown. But the second I spotted that sleazy reporter standing near the bar, my pulse started pounding in my ears.
I could already hear the wheels turning in his brain at whatever headline he’d write next.
Clay Barlowe loses it on a reporter at Christmas charity gala.
If I weren’t worried about wrecking what’s left of my reputation, or the job I’m still waiting to hear back on, I’d have given him what he wanted.
But I know how this all works. They only write about the times I crack and conveniently leave out what caused it.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, gritting my teeth until my jaw locks. Then a hand slides over into mine.
Tessa.
“Clay,” she says, her voice low against my ear. Her thumb brushes my knuckles, grounding me in a way only she can.
I don’t look at her right away. I can’t. My eyes stay locked on where the smug bastard disappeared.
“Don’t,” I rasp. “He’s right. We wouldn’t want anyone to see us together.”
She releases my hand. “Don’t let him win,” she says, her tone quiet but confident.
I nod toward the hallway, a silent cue for her to follow. “I just need a minute,” I say before turning and heading that way.
Past the restrooms is a smaller room used for storage. Extra boxes and decorations we brought for the event line the walls. I step inside and close the door behind me, needing a minute to breathe.
I stand in front of the mirror hanging on the wall, staring at the man looking back at me. Taking in my black suit andred tie, I look one word away from breaking.
I hear her footsteps behind me.
“Tess.”
I should’ve known better than to think coming to Briar Creek would be easy. This town only remembers the reckless kid who fell from grace. They don’t care about how hard he fought to get there.
“You should go back to the party,” I mutter. “The auction will be starting soon, and our moms will need you.”
“Youneed me,” she emphasizes. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”
I huff out a laugh. “Define ‘okay.’”
She steps closer. “You didn’t deserve what that asshole said.”
I finally look at her. And that’s my first mistake.
Because she’s standing there in that red velvet dress that clings like temptation itself. Her eyes are soft and worried, lips parted just enough to wreck me.
Something inside me snaps.
I reach for her before I can think better of it, my hand finding the small of her back and pulling her in until there’s no space left between us. Her breath falters, her hands pressing against my chest like she should stop me, but she doesn’t.
She never does.
“I don’t need you to fix it,” I growl. “I just needed…” My words falter, replaced by the thrum of everything I can’t say.
Her eyes search mine, and it’s over. Whatever control I have left slips.
I kiss her hard like I’m desperate to tamp out everything burning inside me. Every word, every whisper, every headline—they all disappear the second her mouth meets mine. She gasps, her nails digging into my chest, her hands like she’s trying to pull me closer instead of push me away. God, the sounds she makes, the warmth of her body, it unravels me.
