Claire’s voice broke the spell, and I turned to face her. “Thanks for leaving me in the dust, Britta.” She pulled her earbuds from her ears and looked Wes up and down, assessing. Claire’s cheeks were flushed, and she gulped in a breath. “I’m Claire,” she said. “You must be the coach.”
Wes shook his head. “Just the boyfriend, I hope.”
64
TWO HOURS LATER, Britta lay on my couch, wrapped in my thick terry cloth robe after taking a shower. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and I held her feet in my lap, pressing my thumbs into her arches. I looked up to see her smiling, eyes bright, and it reminded me of the first time I’d sat on the couch with her, except everything was different now.
“What?” she asked, after letting me stare at her for a minute.
“I like how you look in my robe,” I said, squeezing her heel to elicit a little moan. Her sexy noises. Damn, I’ll never get tired of them. “And on my couch.”
The bouquet of her favorite flowers was propped in a water glass on my kitchen counter along with her racing bib and medal. When I’d handed them to her, she’d laughed and smiled this wide Britta smile, and she’d kissed me again. Next to that was the letter outlining the formal offer of employment Mason had handed her before we left the race. Now, Britta was at my place, her feet in my hands, and I couldn’t imagine anything that felt more like home.
“Can we talk about the job?” she asked, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “You know I can’t work for you.”
“Technically, you’d report to Mason.”
“And he reports to you,” Britta chided.
I ran my fingers down over the back of my neck before meeting her eyes again. “Not technically.”
“Not technically?” She arched a brow in that sexy way she had, and I dragged my fingers back to her feet, beginning a slow journey up to her ankle.
“He reports to the CEO, but I don’t really want to talk about Mason while you’re practically naked.” I loved the way she inhaled sharply when my fingers skirted up her calves. “Do you have anything on under this robe?”
“Wes,” she said in a slow, breathy tone that left me at full attention. I let my hands dip under the edge of the robe to stroke the soft skin on the backs of her knees. She let out another little moan, and I felt the heat from between her legs as I shifted to lay next to her, fingers dancing up her thighs. I didn’t expect her to still my hand.
She looked at me with those big brown eyes, and I waited. “Don’t distract me with your sexy fingers,” she said, pushing my hand down but not away.
I chuckled, making circles with my thumb on the outside of her knee. Her body was pressed to mine, and I’d already forgotten what we’d been talking about. “But you like my sexy fingers.”
“You’re the CEO. Why doesn’t he report to you?”
Trailing my hands from her knee up the outside of her thigh, I toyed with the belt holding the robe together before meeting her gaze. “I stepped down.”
“What?” Britta jerked up, her face almost colliding with my head. “You own the company. You quit? Is that because of me? Because of . . . us and the scandal?”
“I still am a part owner, but do you know the thing I was most upset about after everything happened, second only to losing you? That mentoring program with the high school—they canceled it.”
“Wes, I’m so sorry,” she said, running her fingers over my hairline.
“I loved working on it. Doing that, playing football with your nephew, teaching Aaron’s daughter how to play basketball . . . I was happier doing any of those things than running the company. And, honestly, I wasn’t good at being an executive. So, I stepped down, effective next week.”
She bit her lip again.
I paused my intended journey under the robe and instead cupped her face. “I thought about what makes me happy. My mom is doing okay, and Libby is talking to me again.” We’d spoken a few times, and I’d already shown Britta the photos of my niece. It was harder than I’d thought, but I’d even started going to a few Al-Anon meetings and researched potential counselors—Mom was right, and I had a lot in my head to sort out. “I think it’s the right time to do what makes me happy.”
“I like you happy,” she said, cupping my face the same way. “I—”
“Hate me?” I dipped my forehead to hers, and she puffed out a breathy little laugh.