The Hot Shot(25)

"Excellent. I'll set an alarm from now on." She grins, and I feel a  little dizzy. When Chess smiles, she lights up. Even as she is now, hair  tangled around her shoulders, eyes bruised by lack of sleep and crying.  To make her smile feels like a reward.

I set my hands on my hips, not bothering to towel off. "You've seen me  naked and didn't bat an eye, but watching me do pushups is a treat?"                       
       
           


///
       

"I was working. It would have been unprofessional to ogle the client."  Her gaze touches on my chest, and I swear I feel it. "Now, I might just  make some popcorn and settle in. You have popcorn, right?"

"Sorry, I hate popcorn. But feel free to watch me any time."

"How can you not like popcorn?" Chess shakes her head as she folds her  long limbs onto the couch. She's in black leggings and a t-shirt with my  name and jersey number on it. Not her usual attire, and I know Charlie  bought the shirt, but damn if it doesn't give me a possessive thrill to  see her wearing my name.

"Gets in between my teeth. Drives me nuts." I grab a bottle of iced  water from the kitchen counter and take a drink. "But I'll stock some  for you."

Chess looks around, taking in the living room, small den area, and  finally the kitchen with its black cabinets, brass fixtures, and  concrete countertop. "You had someone decorate this place, didn't you?"

"Realtor recommended a decorator friend of hers." Ah, Jessica and Janet. Nice women.

Chess narrows her eyes and I suddenly feel caught out.

"You slept with her, didn't you?"

How the hell?

Show no weakness. I give her an easy smile. "The realtor or the designer?"

"Oh, God, both of them?"

Jesus, is she a mind reader? "Not at the same time."

She scoffs like I've chumped her Cheerios. "For fuck's sake."

"I mean, I might have been down with that if they'd asked," I tease, because it's fun to get her riled.

But she looks more horrified than amused. "They were friends. You don't think screwing each of them would cause problems?"

I'm beginning to feel like a worm just waiting to be hooked and cast in a lake. "I didn't ask."

"Because you never saw them again?" It isn't really a question, though. Condemnation is written all over her face.

I head into the kitchen and take out a packet of chicken breasts I'm  going to cook. "You aren't going to get all righteous on me about sex,  are you, Chester?"

She rolls her eyes and follows. "Don't worry, I'm not clutching my  pearls. I'm just reminding myself why I'm glad we didn't hookup."

The chicken package lands on the counter with a slap, as her words punch  through me. It's surprisingly painful knowing that she thinks I'm a bad  bet. And yet …  "So you have to remind yourself, eh?"

A pretty pink flush colors her cheeks. "I'm here at your house. You're you. Can you blame me for being guarded?"

Now I'm pissed. I feel it rising, and I grind my teeth against the urge  to snap at her. My hand spreads wide on the cool counter, as I take a  deep breath. But then I catch a good look at Chess. She seems smaller  somehow, tightly coiled within herself, her expression wane and her eyes  a little wild.

"Are you trying to pick a fight?" I ask. Despite her prickliness, I know she's fragile right now.

For a second, it looks as if she might snap at me, but her shoulders sag  on a breath and she puts her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. You don't  deserve this. I'm all persnickety, and …  I don't know what I'm saying.  Ignore me."

I want to give her a hug, but she holds herself tight, eyeing me as if  she might cut and run. "You need to get back to normal, is all."

She nods, but there's no energy left in her.

"Here's what we'll do," I say. "Let's have lunch-"

"Lunch?" She makes an amused sound. "It's only eleven."

"Elevenses, then," I amend. "I basically eat like a hobbit."

Her lips twitch as she cranes her neck and peers over the center island that stands between us.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a laugh.

"Checking out your feet."

I wiggle my toes, still encased in sneakers. "They aren't hairy, but  they're very large." I lift a brow. "I'm well-proportioned."

Chess scoffs, but she's no longer slumped in defeat. "Yes, I know, big guy. I've seen you naked, remember?"

"How can I forget when you keep bringing it up?" I can get naked now, if  you join me. "If I didn't know better, Ms. Copper, I'd think you were  fixating."

"Good thing you know better." Chess rounds the kitchen island and comes  up beside me. She's so slight, compared to me, her wrists delicate and  fine. The black cast covering her right one is bulky, running up over  her hand, leaving only her fingers free. I don't miss the bruising on  her forearm, and the way she's been limping makes me believe she has  bruises elsewhere.                       
       
           


///
       

I want to demand that she show me her hurts, let me gather her up and  tuck her back in bed, where I'll feed her lunch, rub her sore muscles,  do anything she wants. But I know she'll refuse. And I don't think it  would ease her worries, which is what she truly needs right now. Never  mind the fact that, if I get into a bed with her, my control will crack;  no way can I hold her now and not keep my hands at neutral.

I push the thought of exploring Chess out of my mind. "So after  elevenses, we'll go and buy you a new camera and some equipment. Get you  set back up for work."

She rests her slender fingers on the edge of the counter. "Thanks, but I don't get a check from the insurance for a few weeks."

"Which is why I'm buying."

A frown works over her face, and I lift a hand. "You can pay me back when you get your check."

"Or I can wait," she argues. "I'm already staying here. You bought me clothes. I can't take more-"

"Chester, I make an obscene amount of money and spend it on very little.  You and I both know that. So let's not pretend you're putting me out  monetarily."

"We're talking about nearly thirty-thousand dollars of equipment, Finn."

"I am aware. Makes no difference to me." When she rolls her eyes, I lean  in. "Helping you get back on even ground makes me happy. All right?"

"Maybe I don't want to be on even ground. Maybe I want to mope."

I don't buy it for a second. I see the anticipation in her eyes. The  girl is dying to get a camera back in her hands. "Too bad. The House of  Mannus also has an anti-moping law in effect. Violators are subject to  noogies and loss of TV time for one day."

Chess looks at me as if I'm full of it. Which I am. But she clearly likes that. "Any more rules I should know?"

"They're all in the playbook located on your bedside table." I open the  fridge and pull out some roasted beets, goat cheese, and bulgur salad.

Chess watches me with bemused interest. "This looks … elaborate. You cooked all this?"

"I can cook the basics, but the team's nutritionist has a chef on staff  who sets us up with a few of our weekly meals. You know, elevenses,  lunch, second lunch, and so on."

The doorbell rings, cutting off whatever Chess wants to say. I hustle to  get it and find Charlie, box in one hand, a massive bouquet of flowers  in the other. The spray of orange roses is so big, I can barely see his  head. "Charles," I say, as I let him in. "You shouldn't have. I'm more  of a plant man."

Before Charlie can give me shit back, Chess walks in and makes a sound of wonder. "Wow."

Charlie steps past me like I'm not even there. "These are for you." He  sets the ridiculous bouquet on the hall table because it's too damn big  for her to hold. "They're from the offensive team."

My guys went in on flowers and didn't tell me? Those little ass-kissing  shits. I could have told them that Chess isn't the type to get impressed  by flowers-

"Oh!" Her face glows with pleasure. "How lovely."

Wait. What?

"Well," I say, trying not to grind my teeth. "That's how we do."

Chess sniffs a rose, as she reads the card that's covered in signatures.  "Stop trying to get a gold star, Finnegan. I don't see your name on  here."

Biting back a grin and pointedly not looking my way, Charlie holds out  the box in his hand. White and sleek, it doesn't hide what's inside. A  freaking MacBook Pro? "And this is from the defensive team."

She looks stunned.

Chess will never take it. No way.

But then she smiles, all wobbly and misty-eyed. Just like she did last  night. "That's so … sweet." She clutches the box to her chest like it's  precious.