Page 69 of The Romance Line

When lunch ends, I return to the arena with a renewed focus now that I’ve gotten that confession out of my system. After I grab my afternoon London fog latte from a shop nearby, I head to my office and sit down at my computer, toggling the mouse. As the machine wakes up, there’s a soft knock on my door.

I spin around. It’s Jenna. She’s standing in the open doorway, holding a pretty dove gray envelope. “This just came for you. It’s a personal delivery.”

I furrow my brow, thinking on what it could be. Then I brighten. “It must be that new team T-shirt I ordered,” I say, then reach for the envelope and rip it open.

I reach my hand inside, fishing around in the soft tissue paper, and yank the shirt out.

Only it’s not a shirt, and my face flames hot.

23

MY UNDOING

Everly

I’m praying sweet, angel-faced Jenna who comes to me for publicity advice did not see my new thong.

Please, universe. If you could grant me one wish right now, it’d be that. I’d be super grateful.

I stuff the lace to the bottom of the envelope, then farther, like, say, to the center of earth, and ideally all the way to Siberia on the other side.

I’m not in the spin business for nothing though. I flash anoh what a silly mix-upgrin, and say to her, “I got the size wrong.”

I roll my eyes, likecan you believe it?

But would my face be as red as a fire engine over the wrong size? Maybe Jenna won’t notice I’m imitating a candy apple.

The worker bee tilts her head to the side and says helpfully, “Want me to handle the return? I don’t mind at all. I do it for my girlfriend,” she says. “She orders way toomany shirts to try on all the time, and I’m always the one sending them back.”

It’s a relief that she didn’t see the new lingerie our star goalie sent me. “Nah. I need to return some…” I glance around quickly, but my desk is mostly empty except for a succulent that I’ve never fed. “Some plant food too. I can do it all.”

“I don’t mind. I totally have a green thumb.”

Jenna is the nicest person in the sports world, and I don’t deserve her. “You don’t need to spend company time dealing with my mistake. But thanks, Jenna. You’re the best.”

“Okay, well let me know what I can help you with.”

I wrack my brain for a project to keep her busy. “Actually, I need some research done on the upcoming event with Little Friends next week.”

Quickly I give her a few tasks for Dogs on Ice, and when she trots off, I shut the door, something I rarely do unless I’m sitting in on an interview, but I need a moment alone with thistreat.

I return to my chair, take a breath, and then set my hand on my chest. My heart is beating so fast. No one has ever sent me lingerie. I haven’t had a relationship long enough to enter themeaningful giftstage. My fingers are so eager to touch this pretty thing. To see if there’s a note. I dip my hand back into the envelope and pull out the panties, getting a good look at them at last.

A smile coasts across my face. A smile of amazement.

He got me the exact same pair. A perfect replacement. Delivered in less than twenty-four hours. But there’s not only a replacement here. There’s one more item waiting patiently at the bottom of the envelope. I dip my handback in, the tissue paper softly crinkling as I pull out another gift.

My breath catches.

It’s another pair of panties, and these are royal blue lace. Specifically, Sea Dogs blue. With white lace edging and white embroidered rosettes along the waistband.

He bought me a pair of panties in team colors. I squirm a little in my chair, my chest tingling, my belly flipping. I reach for the small card in the envelope, flip it open, and press my lips together to swallow my gasp.

It’s not signed, but it doesn’t need to be. There are only five words—Wear the blue ones tonight.

I clutch the card in my fingers, not wanting to let it go as the puzzle pieces slide fully into place. Max must have ordered both of these last night, and I try to picture him in his home. I think he lives off Union Street in a tall building, overlooking the city. Was he in bed, scrolling through sites, picking out underthings for me? Including a pair to wear to tonight’s home game?

A noise escapes my throat. A soft murmur. Thank god the door is closed since I’m turned on as the late-night reel plays in my head for the thousandth time. I close my eyes, relaxing against the back of the chair, picturing the things he did to me all over again.