Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(22)

Kat started to argue, but Sawyer just kept on bulldozing.

“To stay out of the spotlight while we think through her future. To not make any rash decisions while I’m attempting to line up a new sponsor. And instead, she keeps finding herself in these situations where she’s stripping on a freaking bar or humiliating an NFL player.”

“Sawyer.” Michael’s voice was calm, but it cut through the conversation like a knife. Kat’s vibrating body stilled, waiting. Knowing he was about to agree with their agent. That he was going to call her reckless. Impulsive.

“Why should she be humble? She kicked Rodman’s ass fair and square. It’s not her fault he lost. And she was just doing a lip-sync battle. You make it sound like she got naked and rolled in Jell-O, for crying out loud.”

Adrenaline, which had been bubbling in anticipation of a fight, fled her body so quickly she was lightheaded.

“We agreed she would stay low-key while she was out there, while we reassessed her career options.” Sawyer’s voice managed to contain that perfect balance of culture and bite. He’d never do anything so stupid as yell at his talent… but he’d let them know in a way that nipped that they were treading into dangerous water. “And you agreed to help.”

“I’m helping,” was all Michael said, then hung up.



Michael watched as Kat unlocked her apartment door with uncharacteristic slowness. Everything she did seemed to have a blurred edge to it. She laughed hard, walked fast even if it was just down the hall to nowhere, and threw herself into life. But suddenly she was unlocking her own damn apartment door as if there were something on the other side that was going to bite her.

“Problem with the key?” he asked mildly. She flinched but didn’t look back.

“No, just… you know. I’m not great with keys. I have a hate-hate relationship with hotel key cards too,” she said with a soft laugh that sounded not at all right. Then the door popped open, and she sighed. “Thanks for letting me work out. See you later.” She didn’t even look at him as she closed the door behind her.

And that, Michael thought as he opened his own door easily and let it shut behind him, was that. Practice done for the day, mentoring complete, delightful call to his agent over… He was free to do what he wanted with the rest of the day.

Surveying his apartment, he frowned. Too damn quiet. He could call one of the rooks up to play some Xbox. Or maybe talk to Josh about real estate. He’d mentioned he was going to start investing in some of that pretty soon. Josh was a solid guy and grew up in the area. They could have a chat about the good places to look for houses.

And yet, when he sank down on his couch, none of that sounded appealing. He picked up his remote and turned the TV on, then back off immediately. False noise wasn’t what he needed.

He needed something… someone else.

Changed into fresh clothes, he knocked on Kat’s door. Nothing. He felt confident this time she hadn’t slipped by him and gone out, so why wasn’t she answering? Not willing to take no, he texted her.

Answer your door.

No answer.

He growled in frustration. They needed to talk, damn it, and she was avoiding him. “Kat,” he called and pounded the door.

His phone pinged.

Shower. Go away.

It was logical, given he’d had a chance to shower after practice and she hadn’t. But still…

Don’t believe you. Open up.

Go. Away.

She aggravated him. Made him want to do something stupid, like stand out in the hallway banging on her door until she answered, whether it took thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

He’d never made an ass out of himself like this before. What the hell was his problem?

She was. She was everything that was upside down in his life right now.

Prove it, he texted back because he’d run out of ideas.

Twenty seconds later, he got a photo text.

It was Kat. Hair soaking wet and slicked back, skin from the shoulders up glistening with that freshly-scrubbed shower look, a scowl on her face and her middle finger firmly flipping him the bird.

Okay, so that was proof.

And now he had a boner.

He’d dropped IQ points since she’d moved next door.

I need to talk to you. Come over to my place when you’re done.

Bite me.

He grinned, then headed back to his place to get something started for dinner.



“Just thinks he can summon me like a genie in a lamp,” Kat growled as she located a bra and shoved her arms through it. “Thinks this little experiment of Sawyer’s gives him the right to be my boss. Yeah, I don’t think so.”

She kicked at the towel on the floor, but it was a less-than-satisfying experience as it only went about two feet and landed with a soft plod on the carpeted floor.

“This is why people own their own houses. Because they can have a punching bag in the garage or basement.” With a sigh of frustration, she pulled a comb through her hair quickly. After a short debate, she just claw-clipped it up. Screw him. If he thought he could demand her presence like a king to a peasant, he’d just get what he got. The drowned rat look should discourage him from trying it again.

After throwing on the first tank top she could find, along with some long shorts—or rather, long on other people, normal length on her legs—and two-dollar flip-flops, she stuffed her key in her back pocket and huffed over to his apartment.