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I can’t stop picturing him leaning against my doorframe earlier.

He was tormented—that much is clear. And I wasn’t making it easy on him. But why should I? He’s bowing out of what could be the most important relationship of our lives because of my dad?

It’s bullshit.

But I also don’t know how to fix the problem. I found my dad later in life, but I didn’t choose him, just as I didn’t choose my mother. I was made to believe my father never wanted me only to learn it was my mother who never did. I was raised believing nothing I ever did was quite good enough.

And now I’m questioning whether I am good enough for someone like Cooper.

Yet…in the time we were together, he made me feel like I was. Like we were compatible. Like we were meant to be.

But the tables have turned. We’re no longer Cooper the guy who works for a kids’ organization and Gabby the girl who’s still in college.

Now he’s the bigshot baseball player and I’m nothing more than his manager’s daughter.

Still, the question remains. Would I give up what I’ve built with my father in the last three years for someone I’ve barely known three weeks?

That’s hard to say.

My gut leans toward no. It doesn’t make sense, but God…what we have—what we had —was intense.

He leaned on that doorframe with his hat backwards and the scruff on his jaw and I’ve never seen a more beautiful man in my entire life. His blue eyes were dark and stormy, and even now as he sits across the table from me, I can’t help but study his hands. He’s rubbing them together like he’s trying to stay calm, and then he lifts one of those hands and runs it along his jawline.

Long fingers that know every inch of my body move slowly along, and I know I’m staring, but I can’t help study those fingers. Strong and lean, muscular and athletic. Skilled.

Ropes of muscle ripple along his forearm with his movement…a forearm that held me as little as a few days ago. A forearm that should be holding me again, and instead, maybe it never will.

My chest aches, but I put on the act like everything’s fine. Justin slipped into the open seat beside me, and I wish it was Cooper instead. I wish I could smell that clean, woodsy scent of his. I wish our knees could bump together and we’d both leave them there, touching beneath the table where nobody could see.

Instead, I’ve got someone who’s probably more appropriately aged for me wearing a Spongebob tee. Is it any wonder I found someone a decade out of my zone when Spongebob over here is my option?

Justin doesn’t smell like fresh wood, and he’s going to be my partner for the next few months as we work together on a project…with Cooper as our lead.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to describe it.

When the meeting starts to wrap up, my dad offers to show me off—I mean to introduce me—to more people, but Joanie jumps in to save me from that particular torture.

“I can have her start filling out paperwork in here if that’s okay with you.” Her gaze connects with my dad’s, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to their relationship than colleagues. In fact, the way his gaze burns at her tells me there’s definitely something more there, but I’ve never seen her before in the three years I’ve been living with my dad.

He nods once at her then turns to me. “Is that okay with you, honey?”

I nod. “I’d actually love to hang here for a bit.” I avoid Cooper’s gaze even though I feel it on me.

“Fine,” my father says. He glances at Cooper. “Then let’s continue our tour.” He looks over at me. “We’ll be in the clubhouse. Text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you all so much,” Kaylee says. “This has been great and I’m so excited to get started.”

She seems sweet, although when Cooper tackle hugged her when she walked in, I felt my hackles rise as my claws started to emerge…until I realized I have no ownership over him. He’s free to hug whomever he wants. He made that pretty damn clear.

And I also caught the way he stiffened when Justin walked into the room and sat beside me. I’m not saying I’m going to take advantage of that, but I’m not saying I’m not going to, either.

“Let me just check in with HR, and they’ll send a copy of our intern contract so you can get started,” Joanie says, and she heads to her desk and taps around.

I glance over at Justin, who looks a little bored. He’s probably early-twenties like me, and if nothing else, maybe I can make a friend.

“Are you at UNLV?” I ask while Joanie gets my paperwork together.

He shakes his head. “I was. I graduated last year.”

My brows dip. “So what are you doing interning here?”

“I took a sabbatical, and my dad told me I had to get a job when I got back.” He shrugs, and I laugh.

“A sabbatical? Do you mean a gap year?”

He offers a wry smile. “Sabbatical sounds better. But very few employers are excited about hiring someone with zero experience who took a year off from the real world, so my dad hooked me up with this gig.”

“Where’d you go on your sabbatical?” I ask, suddenly full of questions.

“Europe for a while, and then I headed to Australia and worked in a bar there for a few months to make dear old Dad happy.” He rolls his eyes, and he seems like the kind of boy who gives his dad a ton of trouble but has the sort of winning smile that gets him out of it most of the time.

“And how was it?”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I didn’t want to come back. It fulfilled that dream of freedom and independence and it was just the fucking best.”

“But your dad made you?”

He nods. “He’s one of the executives I’m sure your dad introduced you to up in the front office. Dean Larson, Executive Vice President and Business Manager of the Vegas Heat.” He rolls his eyes and leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I don’t even like baseball.”

“I totally heard that,” Joanie calls from her desk. “I promise I won’t tell.” We both laugh.

“So what do you want to do for your career, then?” I ask Justin.

He shrugs. “Something that will allow me freedom, independence, creativity, and travel.”

“Sounds like you need to figure out something where you can work for yourself.”

He glances up so his eyes meet mine. “Or find something where I can partner up with pretty girls.” He raises a brow, and I feel my cheeks heat.

Joanie walks over with a tablet, and she sets it in front of me. “Fill out these forms and let me know if you have any questions. Justin, you can head back to Caitlin’s office. I think she has some graphic design work for you.”

He nods, and then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He hands it to me. “Text yourself.”

My brows dip in confusion.

“Text yourself so you have my number,” he clarifies. “You know…in case we need to get in touch about our project.”

“Oh,” I say dumbly. Is he asking me for my number? Well, no. He’s demanding my number, but it seems innocent enough. “Sure.” I tap in the number, send myself a text that says Gabby Grant, and hand it back.

“Nice to meet you, Gabby Grant,” he says, and his fingers brush mine when he takes his phone.

“You too, Justin Larson.”

He grins, and then he walks out of Joanie’s office, and I’m left wondering whether the cute boy who just gave me his number is interested in friendship or something else.