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Dare to Stay (Dare Nation 4)

Page 5

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“Come in!” she called out. She closed out the page she was looking at and glanced up as her door opened and Braden walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him, and she rose to her feet.

“Willow, it’s really good to see you.” He stepped toward her, his arms out, clearly intending to hug her. Being in his embrace and inhaling his sexy scent was the last thing she could handle, and she held out a hand to stop him from coming any closer.

He stopped, respecting her boundaries, and she let out a sigh of relief. “How are you, Braden?”

“I’m good. Settling in. How have you been?” he asked, those violet eyes staring into hers.

“Also good. Enjoying my promotion, which reminds me. Congratulations on your new position.” She folded her arms across her chest in an effort to keep a barrier between them.

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone and traveling with the team.”

God, she hadn’t let herself think about the fact that they’d be on away trips together, as well.

“You look great,” he said, his gaze taking her in, and though she wore a pair of black leggings and a Thunder fitted shirt, she felt naked beneath his stare.

“Thanks.” She didn’t want things to get personal nor did she desire a conversation about when he had returned or how his time with MSF had been. “So what can I do for you?”

“First, I wanted to say hello. Second, we’ll be working together, and I thought we should clear the air.”

She inclined her head. “Don’t worry. My entire staff will keep you up-to-date on every player.” She turned away from him and stepped toward her desk, away from the scent of his cologne that would now linger in her personal space.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, messing it in ways she’d seen when they’d finished a round in bed. Clearing her throat, she sat down in her chair, hoping he’d take it as a dismissal.

“Willow, look. I’m sorry about how things ended between us and I’d like to talk.” He strode closer to her desk.

“There’s nothing to discuss unless it’s about the team.” She answered before he could settle himself on the corner as he’d clearly been about to do. “We’re colleagues and I’ll be professional. I’ll talk to you when I need to, and nothing will fall through the cracks, but I want to be clear. There is nothing personal between us. Not anymore.” Resting her hands on her lap, she curled them into fists, her nails digging into her skin.

This conversation was costing her. Her pulse was racing and her stomach churning. She resented the fact that this man could still have a hold over her in any way.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He grasped the arm of her chair and spun her to face him, then braced his hands behind her shoulders.

His face was close to hers, his lips so near if she moved at all she’d be kissing him.

“I can see the emotion you’re holding back,” he said in a deep voice. “We have unresolved issues, and you can be sure we’ll be discussing them. In the meantime, how about a tour of the place?”

She narrowed her gaze. “Didn’t Ian walk you through the stadium when he was trying to sway you to take this job?”

“I have a bad sense of direction. I need another one.” He stood up straight, and she could breathe now that they weren’t face-to-face. He was still too close for comfort, she thought, as she rolled her eyes at his blatant lie. They both knew he had an excellent sense of direction.

“I would also like you to run me through the daily schedule and fill me in on anything I need to know from your perspective so I can hit the ground running. I know the team is home this weekend, but we have an away game the weekend after. Anything you can clarify for me will be great.”

“Fine.” She couldn’t say no to his request, so she cleared her throat and waited for him to get the message and step out of her personal space.

Once he did, she held back the sigh of relief and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll show you around, and then we can go over the players who are possibly on the IRL. Injured Reserve List, in case you don’t know.”

“I did grow up in a sports-centered house. I’m aware of the terms. Just let me leave my jacket here. I can’t stand how stuffy I feel.” He shrugged off the jacket and, to her surprise, tugged at his tie next.

“What are you doing?”

“Relaxing now that the press conference is over.” He pulled at his tie, loosening it, then undoing it completely, and to her frustration, undid two buttons on his shirt, revealing the sprinkling of dark chest hair she used to lay her hand on after always amazing sex.


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