Bold by Nicola Marsh

sponsorship side of things.” She touched his hand in reassurance, wishing she could entwine her fingers with his and never let go. “Christopher doesn’t scare me and regardless of what he says, I’m going to make this deal happen for Bombshells.”
    “And us?” His solemn stare bore into her, demanding answers she wasn’t willing to give. “What’s going on with us?”
    Ignoring the pain cleaving her heart in two, she reached up to cup his cheek before thinking better of it. “There is no us,” she said, her hand falling uselessly to her side as she gazed at the guy she’d come to care way too much for.
    “We can make this work—”
    “Don’t,” she said, pressing her fingertip to his mouth all too briefly, before steeling her resolve and walking away.
    Needing to change her flight ticket, needing some distance between them, needing him more than ever but knowing she couldn’t have him.
     
    “Hey, what’s with the daydreaming?” Wyatt thumped the table between them to get Zane’s attention. “How was LA?”
    “A bust.” Zane stopped pushing cutlery around aimlessly and glared at Wyatt, wishing he wouldn’t ask the obvious question but knowing it was unavoidable.
    “What happened?”
    Yep, there it was, the million-dollar question that Zane had no frigging hope of answering.
    Before Zane could come up with some half-arsed excuse to fob off his brother, Wyatt picked up his burger. “You don’t mind if I eat while we talk? Got to get back to work soon.”
    “No worries,” Zane said, nudging his half-eaten steak away. He couldn’t stomach it, not with the shit-storm that had rained down on him the last twenty-four hours.
    Wyatt chewed quickly, waited until his mouth was empty to speak. “Come on, spill, bro.”
    Zane had to give him something, so he said, “Christopher’s a prick.”
    Wyatt grinned. “I already told you that.”
    “Was meant to show up before I headed back here, didn’t front. No message, call, nada.” Zane pointed at his mobile. “Sent a text three hours later, citing another frigging business emergency.”
    “He has a lot of those. Usually coincided when I had something important on.” Wyatt’s dry response didn’t help alleviate the foul mood Zane had been in since LA. “Oddly enough, business didn’t count so much when Kurt was playing his first college game or aiming for record touchdowns at the Super Bowl.”
    “I met Kurt.”
    “And?”
    “He’s an egotistical bastard, too.”
    Wyatt’s grin widened. “Well, well, aren’t we just one big happy family.”
    “Kurt was okay once he loosened up and lost the attitude.” Zane grimaced and resisted the urge to punch something, a visceral reaction every time he thought of his father and how little he truly meant to him. “But Christopher…”
    “What?”
    “I thought he’d make more of an effort, you know?” Grateful he could talk to Wyatt about this stuff, he continued. “Fuck, I flew out here to meet him. He asked for a second chance, I gave it to him. But he doesn’t seem interested.”
    Wyatt wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Word of advice? Christopher hates being wrong. Always has. Maybe the guilt of doing wrong by you and Steele is getting to him? Maybe every time he sees you he’s reminded of how badly he fucked up?”
    “Possible.” Zane had analyzed this from every angle on the flight back from LA—a flight he’d taken alone after Chantal had changed hers—and hadn’t considered that possibility. “But I think I’m done. Time to cut my losses and head home.”
    “Already?” Wyatt’s disappointment surprised him. And went some way to making up for his father’s apparent disinterest. “Too bad, bro. Would’ve been my shout next time.”
    “I thought you were paying for this meal?”
    “Nah, jocks earn more than geeks.”
    “Bullshit.”
    Wyatt smiled. “Yeah, but worth a shot.”
    Zane smiled back. He’d miss Wyatt. Miss his dry humor, his bluntness, his analytical way of