“I like who I am when I’m on the field. I go out there knowing that I can handle what the other team throws at me. I can take the hits and get up again.” His eyes turned to the sideline. “But out there, I’m not that guy.”
I stepped up to him, feeling the need to interject before the real Liam disappeared and was replaced by the fake one. I laid my hand on his chest and gave him an honest smile. “I’m looking at that guy.”
He glanced down at his chest and then to me. When I realized I might have overstepped the boundaries set between a therapist and her client, I quickly pulled my hand back.
“What if … what if I show that guy to a woman and she doesn’t want him?”
The way he was looking at me, with so much intensity, I had the feeling he was asking if I would reject him. My heart rate tripled and my tongue grew two sizes, making it difficult to swallow or breathe.
Therapist, Heather. You are a therapist, I chanted in my head, hoping to pull myself from the stupor his gaze put me in.
“Putting yourself out there is a risk.” I finally managed to pull out that amazing bit of wisdom from my scrambled brain. There had to be more in there—I’d done six years of college, for Pete’s sake. “You take risks on the field all the time. Remember the game against Boston? You ran the red-and-green play when they had a shift on the defense. It could have gone so wrong, but it didn’t, because you ran the play as if it was going to work. If you’d hesitated, it would have fallen apart before you made the snap. You have to face dating with that same determination.”
His jaw fell open, and he stared at me.
And stared.
And stared.
I coughed and looked away. I couldn’t believe I’d just given away my deepest, darkest secret—I watched every one of Liam’s games. I wanted to die. I wanted to pull up the grass, crawl underneath, and stay there until spring.
The wheels in Liam’s head churned as he connected the dots and probably did a slow-motion recap of what I’d just said. A slow, sexy smile played across his lips as he realized I was a fan. Not just a fan, but a superfan who knew the names of his plays, which games he dominated in, and everything.
He stood taller and took on a confident stance. “Hey, Heather?” he asked, all cool and collected.
I did my best to smother his grin. “Yeah?”
“Will you go with me to the team party?”
I balked. “But you hired me to find you a date. Besides, I’m your therapist. I’m pretty sure it’s unethical to go with you.”
He paused, pursing his lips as if he were carefully weighing his words. “You want me to get better, right?”
I nodded. I mean, what else could I do? I was his doctor. I had to say yes.
“And you want me to keep my job?”
I nodded again.
He shrugged as if this conversation was already over. “Then you are coming as my therapist. Think of yourself as my safety net.”
His clarification wasn’t lost on me. Nothing like being an ice-cold bucket of water on my hopes and dreams. “So it would be part of my job?”
He tucked the ball under one arm and assessed me. “Do you want it to be part of the job?”
I stood there, trying to decide what to say. Truth was, no, I didn’t want to go as his security blanket. I wanted to go as his date. I wanted him to put me on his arm and introduce me to his teammates as the woman he was interested in. But I couldn’t say that. Not when I wasn’t sure who I was to Liam once the spotlight was back on him.
He squinted as he studied me. “If that’s how you want to look at it, then yes. But I also just want to go with you. I have fun when we’re together, and I like being with you because, well, with other people, I’m always looking for ways to make them laugh or whatever. But with you, I don’t have to try. It’s easy to be me when I’m with you.”
My whole body warmed over and filled with fluttering butterflies.
“You’re a good friend.” He scrubbed his face as he glanced upward to the sky. “I’m such a dork,” he said quietly.
The butterflies froze in midair and then dropped to the bottom of my stomach. Good and friend should never come out of the mouth of your crush in the same sentence. It was almost as bad as getting stood up for the prom. Nothing like the slap of reality to bring me screeching back to earth.
“A friend? I’m your friend?” I asked, waving my hand toward my body like Liam didn’t know who I was.
Liam furrowed his brow. “Yeah. Who else would you be?”
“The girl you ditched on prom night.” It slipped out before I could stop it. My cheeks heated to a no doubt blotchy mess. I couldn’t seem to say the right words or react the right way. I needed to fix the mess I was in, and I needed to fix it fast.
When he didn’t respond, I peeked over at him to see that he was studying the ground harder than anyone I’d ever seen. I’d said something that bothered him, but I wasn’t sure what. Why would him ditching me on prom night bother him? After all, I’d been the one left in my dress staring out at the darkness.
I was an idiot. This was his session, not mine. He wasn’t here to fix my problems; I was here to fix his. “Sorry. Lame excuse.” I shook my head. “Can we move on like that didn’t happen?”
He studied me for a moment and then nodded. “Sure.” He tossed the football up so it spiraled in the air. “So, you watch my games?” He caught the ball and tossed it again and caught it.
Good. Football. A neutral playing field. I was ready to get back to our old, less tense relationship. I rolled my eyes. “What? I can’t be a football fan?”
“See, there’s a difference between a football fan, a Wolves fan, and a Liam McKnight fan.” He tossed the ball again. “So which is it?”
I grabbed the ball out of the air. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Six Percent Touchdown?” I pinched my lips together. Something was seriously wrong with me. I’d adapted Liam’s coping mechanism of flirting back when I was uncomfortable.
Liam’s eyes bugged out, and before I could move, he lunged for me. I barely managed to sidestep his arm before taking off down the field. It was no surprise he caught me—I was laughing too hard to run fast, and he was Fast-feet McKnight. He hooked his arm around my middle and hauled me off the ground. “That’s it. You’re catching a football.”
“No. I promise I stink at this game.”
“No one who knows my stats can be that bad.” He set me on my feet.
“You wanna bet?”
“I’ll teach you all you need to know.”
I highly doubted that, but I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to get a football lesson from a man who was quickly making his way to the Football Hall of Fame. “Wait till I tell Winnie about this. I guarantee you she’ll want to put it in a book.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Let her. I’ll buy the first copy.”
I smiled softly. Regardless of the confusing and partly soul-crushing interaction we’d just shared, Liam was still the guy who could make me smile. That could make my heart beat faster and louder than anyone else I knew. Despite the fact that he’d just pulled out my heart and stomped on it when he’d clarified just what I’d feared, that we were friends and nothing more. That didn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy my time with him. I did. Way more that I should as his therapist, and way more than I should as a woman. And at this point in our sessions, I was beginning to forget who I was to him. And in that forgetfulness, I was losing my grasp on reality.
I needed to have a wake-up call, and fast. Or it wasn’t going to be my ability as a therapist on the line, but my heart. And that was one thing I wasn’t ready to part with just yet.
Especially not to star quarterback Liam McKnight.
I needed to get a grip. The sooner, the better. But I was still shocked that under all the bluster and bluffing and joking and jesting was this guy.
He moved to stand behind me and put his arms around me like a cage. Darn it, I wanted so badly to snuggle into his chest and turn this less
on into a whole different learning experience. But I refrained. If he’d wanted more from me, then he would have actually asked me on a date. Instead, we were going to be friends. Good friends, ones who watched out for each other. I could tell we were going to get along forever. The bonding we’d shared over the past four days wasn’t the kind that I turned my back on. Liam had worked his way into my life, and I wouldn’t kick him out.
Even if being his friend meant helping him fall in love with someone else.
Holding the ball between his hands and facing me, he said, “When you catch a ball, you want to absorb it into your body.” He slowly brought it forward, to the crook of my arm, and then bent over me so that I wrapped around the ball.
I tried so hard to block out his scent. He smelled of sandalwood and spice, and his breath was warm on my neck, making my legs feel like jelly. I couldn’t have run two steps if my life depended on it.
“You got that?” he rasped. Did he feel this awareness, this tingling all over his body like I did? I blushed and splotched everywhere.
“Yep,” I barely managed to get out.
He held the position for just a moment longer and then stepped away, leaving this vacuum of air around me. I gasped as I stood up straight, still holding the ball in my elbow.
He took it from me and stepped back two paces. “Okay, I’m going to throw it from here. Nice and soft.”
Sure. He had no idea how much he was throwing at me right now.
He tossed the ball, and I dropped it.
“Wow—you weren’t kidding. You really do stink at this.”
My mouth fell open before I laughed. I bent down to grab the ball and toss it underhand back to him. “I’d like to see you diagnose psychosis on your first try.”
He tossed it again, and this time I managed to hold on to it. He cheered like I’d scored a touchdown, making me laugh.
“You know what?” he asked as we fell into a rhythm. I caught most of his throws, but I had no desire to be on the end of his long pass down the field. I had a feeling he kept a pretty tight lid on his true power for my sake.
“What?”
“We should go out tomorrow night.”
“Out?” I moved my body and tried to grab the ball with just my hands. It slipped right through my grasp. “Like a practice run for the team party?” I did role-playing with clients all the time. “Sure.”
He cocked his head to the side as if trying to figure out what I was doing. I had moved my body instead of trying to absorb the ball, but I was fighting instinct here. A lady had to protect herself. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Deal.” I tried to throw the ball back to him like he’d thrown it to me, but it wobbled in the air and bounced at his feet. He chased it down, and I took a moment to gather myself.
I shoved my hair over my shoulder. Crap! I didn’t have anything to wear on a practice date. I’d have to go shopping in the morning and pick something up. My mind darted back to the green dress hanging in my closet, still wrapped in the dry-cleaning plastic. I didn’t dare let my regular clothes near it.
Right there, I decided to splurge on something fantastic. With what Liam was paying me, I could afford a couple of dresses that would knock his—er, a date’s—socks off. Liam wasn’t a date. He was a project. And tomorrow night would go as smoothly as any of our other sessions. I frowned. Well, hopefully it would go better than our other sessions.
I made a mental note to review some conversation starters for first dates so I’d have a list of questions to bring up and recommend. Since he was looking to be better boyfriend material, I could at least provide him with an arsenal of things to ask a woman on a real date.
Even if I wished that woman were me.
Chapter Twelve
Heather
“This is such good research.” Winnie took in every detail of the out-of-the-way clothing boutique. Her head swiveled in every direction. I could practically hear the keyboard clacking in her mind as she described the shop in her next book.
I welcomed the distraction that came from helping her plot her next book. My mind was still reeling from yesterday, and it didn’t help that just as we’d left the football field, Liam had asked me to dinner. Not a date, I swear, he’d said as he’d raised his hands. Just a practice date for when he started dating the real women.
The women he was changing for. That I was helping him change for.
What was wrong with me?
Winnie sighed and tapped her chin—her signature I’m thinking and I’m not sure move. Since she’d agreed to come with me to pick out my outfit for Liam and my “not a date,” I figured I could help her out. After all, I’d pulled her away from her writing for this.
“What are you thinking? Shop girl meets billionaire?” I guessed. I adored her billionaire series. The idea of being swept off to exotic locations and showered with expensive—though meaningful—gifts and dining on food that was both delicious and good for me was a world I loved dropping into, because in truth, that was never going to happen for me. I should have focused harder on knitting, since that was going to be my life now. That and cats.
“More like shop owner becomes billionaire and marries the delivery man, who happens to be her childhood sweetheart and has no idea she’s rich. Also—he’s a cowboy ex-military man with daddy issues.”
I barely held back my laughter at her unromantic description of her future romance.
She pulled out her phone and snapped pictures of the displays.
“Come on, act like you’ve been here before,” I whispered as one of the shop workers gave us a sideways stare.
She immediately adopted a cool and aloof attitude. “Right, right. I’ll pretend I’m a character in one of my books.” She flicked her smooth hair behind her shoulder.
I giggled. “Fine, character, help me find an outfit for tonight and one for the gala on Saturday.”
She nodded, and we started eyeing the dresses on the racks. They were so fancy and so expensive that I feared even touching them. Was this a you break it, you bought it kind of place? Because it looked like the woman behind the register knew that I’d eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich an hour earlier.
“I can’t believe this place.” Winnie held up a price tag and pointed, her eyes wide. The creamy sweater with a low V-neck cost more than my entire food budget. “How did you find it?” We’d grown up shopping at department stores and bargain bins. This place was so posh, the word bargain was forbidden.
“I texted Mason, asking for Lottie’s number; then I texted Lottie to find out where she’d bought the stunning green dress she gave me the other night.” As the words left my lips and hit my ears, I realized how completely ridiculous I sounded. I wasn’t a McKnight, and yet here I was, acting like one.
“Ooh, nice.” She patted my back. Admiring a plum-colored button-up shirt, she feigned boredom as she said, “You’ve gotten pretty chummy with the McKnights lately, and now you’re dating Liam. Perhaps I should be searching for a maid of honor dress.” She held up a dark blue summer dress and pumped her eyebrows. “Does this color work for the wedding?”
I smacked her arm. “Stop. It isn’t like that. We’re just friends.”
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me, and I attempted to hold my own. But I failed horribly. I should have known that I couldn’t hide my disappointment, not from my sister.
She picked up on it like a bloodhound on a fresh scent. Her arm came around my back, and she side-hugged me. “I don’t get it. He seemed into you.”
“What? When?” I demanded, and then I cleared my throat. Being too eager about anything Liam-related was not going to be good for my mental health. The best thing I could do was push him from my mind. I moved to the dress display and considered the light-pink Jackie O dress on the mannequin. Showing up looking like a librarian might be a smart idea. It said teacher, not girlfriend.
“The color would wash you out.” Winnie steered me away from it. “He seemed into you at the rom
ance con.”
I snorted, drawing a disapproving look from the sales lady. She hadn’t so much as approached us to see if she could offer help. I assumed they worked on commission, and Winnie and I didn’t put off the vibe of big money, so she left us alone. That was fine with me. I wouldn’t know what to do if someone wanted to cater to me.
“He was not into me at the con. He was out of his element. If he was anything, he was clingy because he was nervous.” Was it wrong that I liked it when others confirmed what I thought? Even though I knew Winnie was looking through her romance writer’s lens, it felt good for her to encourage my infatuation. I needed it, even if it didn’t reflect reality.
“He kissed you.”
I was instantly whisked back to the memory of being held in Liam’s arms as he’d pressed his lips to mine. Heat permeated my cheeks as I blinked a few times to wake myself up. “That doesn’t count. We were peer-pressured into it. You know how I feel about classroom success.”
Winnie didn’t look like she believed me at all, and I could tell she was assessing me in the same way she stared at her book during edits.
“Stop that,” I said, waving my hand in her direction and then hurrying off. She had a way of seeing into me that I hated. I was the therapist here, not her.
“Stop what?” she asked while hot on my heels.
I grabbed a black strapless dress from the rack and held it up to hide my face. Anything to get some distance from my sister. “You’re looking at me like you want to edit my life.” I peeked over the dress. “This is real life.”
A smile played at Winnie’s lips, and it only frustrated me more. She was amused by my pain. Traitor. After pursing her lips a few times and visibly playing down her desire to tease me, she asked, “So what’s the game plan, then?”
I drew in a breath and prepared myself to repeat the mantra that I’d been practicing since the moment I’d woken up. “I’m going to go on a practice date with him. Talk to him about being a gentleman—although he has the basics down.” He opened doors, said please and thank you, and listened when I talked. Of course, he was paying me an incredible sum to speak, so he should listen. “And I’ll teach him how to be a good date.”
His Romance Coach (A McKnight Family Romance Book 5) Page 10
