19. Wren

“You got the bondage shoes.” Avery shook her head as I climbed into the back of Chris’s car.

“Did you really doubt that I would?” Smirking, I admired the straps that crisscrossed my foot and ankle. Damn, Daddy Wilson would love these shoes.

I frowned. I wasn’t supposed to be going there. Although we’d texted about the property and his new closer the whole time he was gone, I hadn’t seen him since the day I’d stopped by his office. The distance left a weird feeling bubbling inside me. It was Saturday, and I’d seen him on Thursday. It had been two days, and already, I…missed him—like, what?

I’d mocked women who sat at home crying while their men were away, but could I become one of those women in the span of a couple of days? No. It wasn’t possible.

He’d pulled back after I’d brought up how my parents and Avery would feel. And now we were more like friends. Although I didn’t think about my friends naked. So there was that.

I nibbled on my bottom lip.

“You’re going to make sure no one bothers my girl, right, Wren?” Chris hardly glanced back as he gave me the chin tilt greeting and pulled into traffic .

“I will always take care of her.” My tone was easy breezy, but guilt lingered in my stomach. Because although Daddy Wilson and I were only working together now, the feelings remained. I fell asleep thinking about him every night. I fantasized about his hands and his mouth on my skin. I longed to feel him again. The longing and fantasizing had been a thing for years, sure, but now that it was real…?

“Wren?” Avery was half turned in the passenger seat, looking back at me.

“What?” I blinked at her. Shit. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Chris asked if we wanted to meet up with Jana and Evan after.”

Normally I was the one leading the charge when a bar hop was on the horizon, but I could use a good night’s sleep. I had a list of art to track down, pages of paperwork for zoning rules to read through, and two more properties to research, not to mention contractors.

And none of that was for my job at the auction house.

I was trying to balance the two, but Tom’s project pulled me in more powerfully than my normal work. I would be lying if I said working on the file wasn’t also an excuse to text him.

“I probably can’t.”

Chris cocked a brow and eyed me in the rearview mirror. “Is our little Wren growing out of drunken hookups?”

I scoffed. “Never.” That was a blatant lie. I didn’t want a hookup. Even the idea made me feel icky. “Just busy at work.”

“Okay.” Avery nodded. “I don’t mind telling her we’re bailing. I only planned to go for you.”

A moment after she turned to face forward again, my phone buzzed in my pocket with what was most likely Avery’s response in our group message.

“Do you remember how to get there? You’re sure you don’t need me to walk you down?” Chris asked as he pulled up to the stadium.

“The first time I went to the Ground Zero was without you.” Avery shook her head. “And you know we won’t be harassed since literally no one but Revs and Bolts players and us WAGs can get in. We’ll be fine.”

“Overprotective athletes,” I teased, hopping out of his car so they could say goodbye without me .

Once Avery had stepped out onto the sidewalk, she linked her arm through mine as we headed past the security guards stationed at the player entrance. “I want to hear all about your trip. How’d you convince my dad to work with you?”

Now that she knew we were working together, she wouldn’t stop bugging me about it.

I swallowed past the trepidation rising up my throat and kept my tone easy. “I was shocked when I found out it was him. A heads-up would have been nice.” I narrowed my eyes at her. She and her father were close. She knew his schedule and knew he worked with our auction house. It stung a little, that she hadn’t told me he was the client I’d been dying to work with.

Avery shrugged. “I actually wasn’t sure he was the one buying Stonehenge until he got home. He’s so secretive about his art. I rarely know what he’s looking at.”

As opposed to me, who now had lists. I was the one he talked to about his plan and which pieces called to him. The idea that I might know him best sent elation tingling through me.

“But you two got along?” she asked as we made our way down the cinder block tunnels.

I nodded, lips pressed together, afraid my voice would crack or guilt would have me confessing.

“It’s weird how quiet you are about the topic.” She sighed as we stepped up to another pair of security guards blocking the door to the bar.

“He’s a client.” I’d use any excuse not to talk about it.

She rolled her eyes, her blue irises almost identical to her dad’s. Then she turned to the large man blocking the door to the underground bar between the stadium and the hockey arena.

The Langfields had set it up for the team only, so the players had a spot to hang out without being bothered by fans. I’d been here last New Year’s Eve with Avery and twice during the season.

“Avery.” The man nodded and then glanced down at his list. “Wren Jacobs?”

Once he’d checked my ID, he waved us into the space filled with Boston memorabilia. Every inch of the bar was covered with team logos and photos through the years. Even signed jerseys hung above every table. It was like the three Revolutionaries—the Revs mascots—had thrown up Boston merch all over.

“Want me to grab drinks?” Avery asked.

I gave her a nod, then broke off to say hi to Hannah, the Revs’ head of PR. She and I had developed a friendship over the last couple of years.

“Hey, babe.” I greeted the tall brunette with a kiss on each cheek.

“God, I love the shoes. I swear I’d kill for access to your closet.”

I pointed my toe, letting her admire the black straps that hugged my foot and ankle.

“Holy shit, those are like a walking sex dungeon.” A familiar blond laughed.

“Wren’s shoes will make even the most anti-shoe-fetish person come around. Have the two of you met?” She waved a hand toward the woman in a bright blue dress. “Sara’s the me of the Boston Bolts.”

I hadn’t officially met Sara Case, but I’d heard of her. “And if rumors are true, you’re the girl who knocked the Bolts’ goalie off his feet, right?”

Sara laughed. “More like the girl making Brooks Langfield crazy.”

“One of the perks of being in a relationship.” Avery stepped into our circle and handed me a cranberry mimosa.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Hannah tipped her wine at my friend.

The four of us chatted wedding plans for a while. In three weeks, my bestie would be a married woman. We’d done the bachelorette thing back in October before the Revs season ended. That way Chris’s offseason would be their time. All that was left on my to-do list was hosting the bridal shower the weekend before her wedding and my toast, of course.

My clutch vibrated, and I flicked it open, spying a text notification from Daddy Wilson. I pressed my lips together, fighting a smile as I lifted it out of my bag.

“Ugh. Seriously?” Avery groaned from beside me. “For the love of God, change his name in your phone. ”

My stomach plummeted. Shit. I hadn’t realized she was peering over my shoulder.

“What?” Hannah cocked her head, her blue eyes bouncing between the two of us.

My heart skipped. Tom never texted anything provocative or crude, but I was glad I hadn’t unlocked my phone. Just in case. Or maybe wishful thinking. Because I was definitely wishing he’d send me non-work-related texts.

He’d been open to more between us, but I’d pushed it away. Now, though, I was wishing for more. What was my deal?

“She has my dad saved in her contacts as Daddy Wilson,” Avery grumbled.

That was why I’d backed off. My best friend would hate me. She’d made it clear that she wanted me to leave her father alone. And I hadn’t.

My stomach soured.

“Why is he texting you anyway?”

“I’m sure it’s work related.” Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I put the phone back in my purse.

“The man is a workaholic.” Hannah smirked at me. “Let’s grab a refill, Wren.” She yanked on my arm, pulling me toward the bar and leaving Avery and Sara behind.

Once we’d ordered our drinks, she angled in closer, her eyes dancing. “Beckett wants me to set up a team event with the auction house, and he was adamant that all communication should go through you and Coach.” She tapped her finger on the granite bar top. “At this point, I’m pretty good at seeing through his matchmaking schemes…”

Panic crested like a wave in my stomach. Beckett had seen us together in Tom’s office. Though all we were doing was going over paperwork.

“He’s my new client.” The words were so lame. I wanted to crawl under the bar.

“Free unsolicited advice?” Hannah picked up the glass of deep burgundy wine the bartender set in front of her.

I nodded.

“First, don’t hide what’s going on. That’ll only make a mess. ”

Eyes lowered, I glanced away.

“Second,” she said, pulling my attention back to her, “enjoy the fuck out of that man. I want all details. I feel like he hides so much behind that growl.” Hannah tapped my arm.

I opened my mouth, a denial on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t lie. “I don’t know what it is.”

Hannah smiled. “For the record, Beckett is positive that Coach is gone for you, and as annoying as he can be, I’ve learned not to doubt him or his matchmaking abilities.”

I scoffed.

“It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. The man has a weird gift.” She chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get back. Oh,” she said, straightening. “One more thing. Maybe wait until after the wedding, but then you need to tell Avery.”

Nodding, I scanned the room of women. It was wild that both teams had been chock full of single guys until only a year or two ago. Now, their bar was overrun with wives and girlfriends. The best part was that every one of the players’ significant others was awesome. It was a group I’d love to actually be a part of.

My stomach jumped at that idea, and I couldn’t shake it. The idea of attending events with Tom, holding his hand in public, being the object of his affection, sucked the air from my lungs. I could hardly focus on the conversation.

That was until a haughty, overly made-up woman snuck into our circle next to me and wouldn’t shut up. I didn’t get what Aiden Langfield saw in her.

“I should set you up with War, then the two of you can double date with Aiden and me.” Jill beamed.

War, the tattooed defenseman, was hot AF, sure, and a month ago I might have jumped at that, but…

“I don’t know…” I glanced around at the other women, hoping one of them would save me.

Harper, girlfriend of right fielder Kyle Bosco, met my eye. “Sorry, I think she’s dating Coach Wilson.”

I gasped, choking on my drink .

“When I saw them together, he seemed pretty protective,” Harper continued.

Saw us? Holy shit. I coughed, spraying pink liquid across the table.

“Wren!” Hannah jumped back, and Avery whacked on my back.

I wheezed and hacked. How the fuck could Harper have seen us? There wasn’t a single moment outside the hotel room where anyone could have seen anything.

“I am not dating him,” I snapped.

Harper flinched. “Uh.” She swallowed, her eyes shifting to Zara Price, the wife of the team’s catcher, who was sitting next to her. “I thought?—”

“I don’t know why you’d think that.” I cringed at the harshness in my tone. Why was I freaking out?

Avery was frowning at me, and Hannah was shaking her head. Normally I’d laugh about something like this. Maybe even make a teasing comment. Shit. I needed to chill, but my heart thumped in my chest and stress bubbled through me.

“Zara’s party.” Harper stepped away from the table. “You two just seemed…I don’t know. I guess I’m wrong.”

My eyes flitted shut. I’d forgotten, that night, that Harper had been standing so close, and I’d asked Tom to get me a drink.

“It’s…” I shook my head.

“Don’t mind Wren’s attitude. She’s exhausted.” Hannah laughed. “She’s been to New York and back this week and had to battle a snowstorm to do it. Plus she’s working on ten thousand things. The girl never stops.”

Harper eyed me.

Lowering my attention, I whispered, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Avery tugged me aside, frowning. “That was a bit much.” She whispered as she glanced around. “I get why you wouldn’t want people thinking you were dating a client, but jeez, Wren. You were way too hard on poor Harper.”

“Sorry. I—” The truth was I didn’t want to be here. All night, my mind had been hung up on Tom. I should have been talking to him, not messing everything up. “I think I’m going to leave. ”

“Are you okay?” Avery cocked her head, studying me.

I nodded, and once again, guilt turned my stomach.

Because there was so much I wasn’t telling her.