But now, I’m going to land on my head in the middle of the Kodiaks' arena.
This is it…
I squeeze my eyes shut.
My head hits a hard chest, and muscled limbs band around my ribs and legs.
It’s more welcoming than the floor.
Barely, I decide as I look up into Clay’s face.
He’s more gorgeous than I remember.
His hair curls around his ears, brushing his neck. His brows are pulled into a line. He’s clean shaven for once, which only makes his firm mouth stand out.
But it’s his eyes, dark and full of concern, that trap me.
Clay’s skin brands my exposed legs, our breath mingling.
He doesn’t say anything, but I swear the air between us throbs.
A dozen memories race up at me, like the floor was racing up at me a moment ago.
My heart feels as if it’s going to beat out of my chest, pounding against his.
Someone clears their throat, and Clay practically drops me on my feet.
“Damn, that was close. You okay?” Miles asks.
“You shouldn’t yell at girls on ladders, dumbass,” Jayden chides.
“I’m fine,” I murmur as I turn, reaching for my sketchpad on the floor.
“She was obviously lining up to fall into my arms,” Miles goes on. “Clay had better timing for once.”
“I have better timing always.” The low, familiar voice has the hairs on my arms lifting.
When I straighten, I rub my arms where he touched me. I half expect Clay to tell Miles to back the hell off because he’s always been possessive, but Clay’s the one who steps back.
“Thought you went back to… Boston, right?” Jay asks.
I nod. “James called with an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Clay’s eyes bore into me, but I focus on Miles.
“So, you’re back!” Miles is enthusiastic. “How long are you staying?”
Clay pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“Ah. Until I finish this mural for the Kodiaks' anniversary gala.”
I pretend I don’t care if he’s talking to a woman. So what if one of the Kodashians is keeping his bed warm?
I was never in it.
A spot on my arm where he caught me burns, and I rub it absently. Clay’s gaze lifts from his phone to follow the motion.
Even when he’s not trying to leave a mark, he manages to.
“What a little gathering.”
The familiar voice and sound of shoes down the hall has us all turning to see Harlan, his smile wide.
Clay, already at arm's length, steps back further.
Can he really not stand the sight of me?
“Hello, Nova.” Harlan smiles. “Welcome back.”
“Hi.” I force a smile in return.
“Gentlemen, there’s a team meeting before you all go home. Coach promised to keep it short.”
The guys grumble about their plans and the rest they’d been hoping to get as they follow Harlan down the hall.
All except Clay.
He’s rooted to the ground, his eyes changing color from caramel to chocolate.
His gaze falls to my arm again, the red mark where he caught me standing out against my pale skin.
Clay frowns. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
My chest knots. He hurt me so much worse a month ago.
“I can take it.” I drag the headphones off my neck and wind the cord in my hands. “I should get back to work, and it sounds like you should too.”
I arch a brow, hoping I look bored rather than unnerved.
Clay bends to pick up my fallen pencils one by one. He straightens and places them in my hand, folding my fingers closed around them.
“I like your hair.”
My breath catches, and I resist the urge to play with the strands I had a few inches chopped off before coming here as he turns to follow the others down the hall.
The lobby is full of suits and skirts. I scan the crowd before landing on Mari getting out of an elevator at her office building.
My sister’s green jacket looks amazing with her dark hair, a chic bob. She spots me a moment after I see her, and we meet in the middle.
“Meeting ran late,” Mari says, wrapping me in a hug.
“It’s okay. Want to grab a drink?”
We head toward the front doors and out onto the street.
I’d finally started to shake off the feeling of my run in with Clay, reminding myself that thousands of people work in this city without sparing a thought for the grumpy power forward, when Mari texted to demand how long I’ve been in town and when I had been planning to tell her.
“Harlan said you’re doing art for the team?” she asks as we take a right down the bustling sidewalk.
“The owner invited me. It was a surprise to say the least.”
“It’s weird.”
I cut her a look. “One of the drawings I did for the auction wound up in Architectural Digest.”
“How did that happen?”
“I have no idea,” I admit.
She frowns. “I’m not saying you’re not great, but… James and Harlan have a rough relationship.”
“The guy hired him. How rough can it be?”
We get to the cocktail bar and find our way to a high top table. Once we’re settled, we order a wine for Mari and a G&T for me.
“How is married life?” I ask.
“Harlan’s amazing. The honeymoon was everything I imagined.” Her face transforms into a smile. “He does the sweetest things for me. Rubs my feet when I’m stressed from work. Tells me I’m the best.”
My chest aches a little. “And what do you do for him?”
She turns it over. “I listen. He has exacting standards for himself, but he’s better at managing it than I am. There’s a lot going on with the team.”
I want to press her for details but remind myself it’s not my problem.
So, we catch up over our drinks, talking about work and life and friends. Since the wedding, it's felt as if we’re on more even ground for once.
“It’s Chloe’s birthday this week,” she says before finishing her wine. “A bunch of us girls are going to the pub. You should come.”
I like that Mari’s making an effort to include me. “Sure. I’m in.” My phone buzzes, so I check it. “I need to go meet Brooke. She said I could stay with her for now.”
“You can stay with us, you know. We’d barely notice you in the house.”
“Thanks, but I’m trying to spread my freeloading around.”
Mari laughs. “Do you need a ride?”
“It’s not far, and Brooke already took my bag from the airport.”
I hug my sister, and we go our separate ways.
As I make the walk to Brooke's condo building, I’m thinking of how good things are with Mari compared to when I came for the first time. It’s for the best that my relationship with Clay, if you can even call it that, didn’t come out before the wedding.
Now, there’s nothing to come out. He made it clear we might as well be strangers.
After weeks of cradling my broken heart, maybe it’s better this way.
I’ll see him at the arena and barely even then. If he wants to be weird if we pass in the hallway, that’s on him.