Sweetheart, fight back and reclaim your power. I’ll be with you, always. Yours, Chase.
I open the manilla folder and take in the printed black ink.
The Bookworm Project.
“He believes in you, Erin. He’s had this set up for a while just in case you found yourself back here. You fell in love with this place once. He’s giving you a chance to do that again. And if not, he’ll help you find something else or set up your own place.”
“This is…” I shake my head. My hands tingle, my stomach churns, and a dizzy sort of happiness presses against my ribs.
“Get to work, kiddo. Oh, and no trips to New York. If you want to go, I’m sure Mr. Harper will gladly take you.”
Great Lakes Stadium is quiet.
The only sounds are the rumbling hums of generators pumping cool air around the space and the small taps of my fingernails against the metal pen twisting in my hand.
I spent the rest of the afternoon locked in the chaos that had become my office. My wall resembles a murder board now—strings, notes, and ideas taped everywhere. Endless possibilities—because of him.
His gesture was bigger than money. He gave me back oxygen.
“Hey, Erin,” Valerie sings.
“Hey, Val. I loved your recent post. The new logo for the team looks great! Chase said he’d be hanging back a little longer tonight. Is it okay if I wait for him?”
She’s bright and bubbly as always. “He got off the ice a few minutes ago with Briar. He’s in the locker rooms.” She winks. “Lock the door behind you, if you know what I mean.”
My face burns at the idea of seeing Chase Harper naked, who probably looks like a Greek God.
My feet stop moving when I get to the locker rooms. Suddenly, nerves circle deep within my belly as I wonder what he’d do if I pushed my way inside.
Would he be mad, surprised, turned on?
My cheeks flame as Iimagine the way his brows would lift, the way that slow, dangerous smirk would take over his mouth. Just the thought sends a jolt straight to a place no hands have touched me.
Not even my own.
The door swings open, and Chase steps outside. My mouth dries on the spot when I take note of his white fitted T-shirt, gray joggers, and damp hair.
I can smell him.
Fresh air mixed with pine.
A woodland tree trail.
He’s perfect.
The second he spots me, he walks over.
“Hey,” he murmurs, dropping his bag at my feet, and my lip quivers. “Are you okay?” His hand shoots to my face, and I know when I get home I’m going to need areallycold shower because this man sets my entire body on fire. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”
Baby.
He’s called me that a few times now, and every time he does, those butterflies go off.
I lift the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pen in my hand, and his mouth curves into the boyish grin that makes my knees turn to jelly.
My voice splits. “Why would you do that?”
“You know why.” His voice is hushed and gravelly as he strokes my right cheek with his thumb. His gaze dips to my lips, and I wonder what would happen if I just closed the distance and pressed my lips to his. But of course, I don’t.
