He jerked his head back. His eyes widened, and he did that open mouth, close mouth thing. I shook my head. “Look, Anderson, we don't have to be friendly. You don't have to like me. Honestly, I don't like you. But, you run a hell of a program here, and I want to learn. I'll be here, tomorrow ready to work, but if I hear back from my advisor, I will see what other options, if any, there are.”
And then, I exited—because I was feeling like a boss ass bitch.
Chapter Three
Despite my numerous complaints about being so tired, I couldn’t think straight, my two roommates dragged me to a local coffee shop situated in the heart of downtown nightlife. I adjusted my dress to cover more of my thighs and yawned for the tenth time.
“We shouldn’t have forced you, huh?” Fritz reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “You look wiped, Grace.”
“I am.” I rubbed my make-up free eyes with my palms and frowned. “I appreciate your intent to get me to socialize, but I need to head back home. You two go out, make terrible decisions, and tell me about them tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?” Gilly asked with a slight whine to her voice. “It’s good to distract you from your workaholic lifestyle.”
“Again, appreciate your thoughts, but I need to sleep for twenty-four hours.” I stood and exited the green velvet booth. Fritz followed me. “No, you stay. I know you were excited to go out. I’ll take an Uber home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” I smiled at the man who chose to be my brother. “Go. I’ll catch up in the morning.”
He frowned, but I didn’t give him or Gilly a chance to change my mind. I exited the coffee shop and pulled up the app just as a familiar deep voice caught my attention.
Anderson.
He laughed with a guy I hadn’t seen before.
I could not move my gaze away from him. The joy on his face was new to me. Heat spread through my body.
No. I shook my head. I blamed my lack of sleep on my delirious thoughts and headed the opposite direction. The less contact, the better. My lack of filter and sleep would not bode well to meet my asshole boss who gave half-ass apologies.
“Grace.”
Shit. I stopped walking and waited. Maybe it was my imagination.
Footfalls approached, and his familiar cologne teased my nostrils. Nothing could have prepared me for the curiosity and kindness on his face. “Hey.”
Hey?
“Uh, hi.” I crossed my arms over my stomach, suddenly aware how much skin I showed. His gaze briefly dropped to my legs before returning to my face, and I hated how it sent a shiver of awareness through me.
“Where are you headed? I’ll walk with you.”
“Uh, that’s okay.” I gulped. His face was serious as hell, his eyes wide and unblinking. He had the strong, silent, and scary look down pat. “I’m heading back.”
“I'll walk you home then.”
“I can take an Uber. Don’t worry.” I waved my hand and almost flinched at my sore muscles. The app said at least a twenty-minute wait, and that wouldn’t do.
“It's my fault you’re working two shifts. The least I can do is make sure you get home.”
“Unnecessary, but I won’t stop you.” My feet and my back ached, making my twenty-four years feel like fifty.
“Where is your place from here?” He caught up with me in no time thanks to his long, long legs. They were clad in jeans that had to be personally made for him. Damn his strong, sexy body. And, to top it off, he wore a loose baseball tee. I was a sucker for baseball tees.
“It's a fifteen-minute walk.”
“And you were going to do this alone?” His tone changed to the one I was used to. “Are you kidding? Don’t be an idiot.”
“No need to be a dick about it,” I snapped. “I can take care of myself. I have for most of my life.”
He grunted instead of responding. Fine by me. I was in no mood to talk. So, I kept walking as fast as I could in my stupid heels. I admitted I was clumsy, but karma wanted to laugh at me again by having a branch stick out from the sidewalk. I hit it, losing my balance and flailing like an inflatable tube man at a car dealership. Then I fell. To my knees. In a dress. Next to Asshole Anderson.
“Aw hell.” My knees were scraped, and my body hurt even more.
Not my knee. Not again. Not now.
“Are you okay?” He bent lower, his hands going to my ankle. His large hands almost covered my entire foot. “Shit, Grace.”
He rubbed his hand over my ankle then all the way up to my knee. The rational part of me knew he was checking to see if I’d broken anything. That was his job. He was good at it. The irrational part of me enjoyed how freaking large his hands were and how they warmed my skin. He gripped my knee, and I winced, pulling my leg closer to my body. “Right here? Is that where it hurts?”
I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”
He stayed with me on the ground, kneading the area around my kneecap and using two large fingers to press into my muscles. I jumped, but he used his other hand to keep me still. “Hmm. Looks like you twisted it real good. Ibuprofen and ice will help.”
“Thanks, trainer.” I flinched, trying to stand up. He crouched down and instead of helping me up, he scooped me into his arms as though I weighed nothing. Before I could protest, he had me pressed to his chest.
What. The. Hell.
If heaven had a scent, it couldn’t be better than the one radiating off Anderson. A mixture of soap, wood, and something I would forever associate with him. Part of me wanted to nuzzle his neck, bite him, enjoy his arms. The other part was confused. It was weird to feel attraction toward him and pain shooting up my leg. This was the same man who literally was the rudest person I had ever met earlier that week. Talk about mixed signals.
“I can walk, I think,” I croaked out.
“Doubtful. It's already swollen. Is it still pretty far?”
“Yeah. Let's call a car or something,” I suggested, hoping he would take it. He couldn't carry me for a mile. Hell no. “It'll be easier.”
“Sure. I'll ride with you, though.” Then, he set me on the curb as I pulled out my phone. The Uber was still twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes of sitting next to him on the curb. All I wanted to do was fall asleep. “How many more double shifts do you have?”
“Five. Five more.” I closed my eyes with my phone in one hand, my knee in the other. I was thirsty, tired, and disordered. “Every day this week, then it's just the internship.”
He hummed in response. That was fine. I liked docile and calm Anderson. “Is your hand okay?”
“My knee, you mean?” I questioned, unsure what he was asking about.
He chuckled softly. Oh, that chuckle could do things to the female population. It was slow and had a wonderful rumble. My rational brain slapped the other half and stopped that thought from forming. “I meant that night I saw you at the bar. You knocked your hand against the wooden stool.”
“You do remember that night. I wasn't sure.” My eyes remained closed, the memory of that night still fresh. Embarrassment hit me again, hard. Gilly insisted I try flirting. I did. And he dismissed me with barely a shake of the head. And I didn’t recognize him. That’s the worst part.
“Yeah. I remember,” he said it with a hint of resolve, like it pained him. “Anyway, you've worked as a waitress for long?”
“Almost three years.” I yawned, my eyelids becoming heavier by the second. “I'm taking a leave of absence to complete the internship, but afterward I'll go back.”
“Good money?”
“Oh, yeah.” I yawned, again. “I'm struggling.”
“I can see that.” He chuckled that warm sound again. “If you need to rest your head on me, I won't object.”
“That wasn't an Asshole Anderson thing to say.” I smiled as I dropped my head to his shoulder. His large, strong, meaty shoulder. “Nice Anderson is different. Harder to read.”
Then, the sleep took over.
<
br /> I woke up, however longer later, with my head resting on my boss. My arm was asleep, dangling awkwardly. My knee throbbed with each beat of my pounding heart. Holding my breath didn’t help because the pain only increased. It was like someone had pounded a hammer into my bone.
“Shit. Sorry.” I sat up, wiping my mouth just in case I had drooled.
“I had to wake you. The car pulled up. Come on, I'll help you.” He stood, using one hand to hold my hip and the other to hold my elbow. It was such a kind gesture, it made my head spin.
“Where to?” the old driver asked, a smoker’s voice clear as day.
I buckled in to the Uber. I glanced over at Anderson and sucked in a breath. His expression was soft. Like he was gazing at me instead of plotting my demise. I must've imagined it, though, because I barely made it two blocks before falling asleep again.
“Grace.” Something light touched on my arm. Then, my face. “Grace, we’re at your place.”
“M’kay.” I opened my eyes and slid out of the Uber, thanking the driver. I tried to step on my knee and winced, but then, strong hands gripped my arms, holding me up.
“Come on. I'll help you up. Which door is yours?” Anderson looped one arm around my waist and helped me up the flight of stairs.
“23A.” I totally ignored his scent and the way he kneaded his fingers into my hip. Yup. Totally ignored it. So, up the stairs we went. Me ignoring his body.
“I'm hoping you have your keys, yeah?” His mouth was really close to my ear. His breath hit my delicate skin. But, that didn't matter. Nope.
“Duh,” I managed to get out, rolling my eyes in the process. I found my keys and held them up. “Ta Dah!”
He laughed, taking them from my hand but somehow keeping hold of me. “Don't put weight on your knee. It'll swell worse.”
“Yes, sir.” I saluted him. Jesus. I saluted Asshole Anderson. Dear world, take me now please.
“Almost there.” He opened the door, helping me hobble inside, and I went straight for the couch. I plopped down and covered myself with a fleece blanket.
“Thanks, Mr. Anderson,” I mumbled, hoping he would get the hint to leave.
“Not so fast. You need ice and Tylenol, Grace.” He walked right past me, into the kitchen. I opened my eyes, unsure how to act. He yanked and slammed cabinet doors, muttering several curses.
“Aspirin is next to the microwave.” The sooner I obliged, the sooner he would leave. “Ice is in the freezer, you know, where people keep their ice.”
Good one, Grace. Really, really good one.
“Your humor is something else.” Asshole Anderson walked into the living room with a grin, transforming the infamous scowl. He had a hell of a smile. “Take two. Here's some water.”
I took the glass of water and the medicine, still not sure what the hell had happened. Then, he sat on the couch, lifting the blanket off me. “What are you doing?”
“You need to ice your knee. Fifteen minutes.” He took the pack and lifted my leg from under the warm, warm blanket. Once again, his large, overbearing, sexy hands wrapped around my knee and kneaded. “It hasn't gotten worse or better. This will help the pain for tomorrow. Trust me.”
I kept my thoughts to myself on how much I trusted him, but my joints would trust him. He knew what he was doing. I nodded, wincing when the cold hit my skin. “Damn it. That does hurt.”
He lifted a lip slowly into that precious smile. “Don’t be a baby.”
“Thanks for the encouraging words,” I said with a little chuckle. I had maybe three minutes before it was lights out Grace. I already had woken up two times, and the slumber I so desperately craved was so close. So close I could taste it. I took a sip of water, building myself up for doing the right thing. The right thing meant saying thank you even though I would rather eat dirt.
“I have no idea why you are being nice to me, but I'm thankful. So, even though I hate saying this, thank you.” I avoided his eyes when I said it.
He cleared his throat. “Grace, look at me.”
No thanks, my rational brain said. We're good.
“Grace. Quit being stubborn. Look at me.” The commanding tone was back. I did not miss it.
I glanced over at his amused expression. “There. Now, what?”
“I can be a real dick.”
“So you've said, and I've heard before.”
He grimaced, regret crossing his face. “I'm sorry I acted poorly around you.”
“Why did you? Do you?”
“It’s easier, pushing others away. If I've had a shit day, which has happened quite often the past couple of weeks, it’s easier than being nice.” He meant it, too. His eyes were blue orbs of truth.
“That's terrible. And unfair.”
“I know. I'm a dick.” His mouth went flat again. “I have to admit something. I made a bad judgement call. I stereotyped you. I remembered you from the bar, and you were wearing that prissy dress. I thought you were someone's daughter who just got handed the internship. I assumed you were lazy and a bit entitled.”
The sincerity in his explanation wasn’t lost on me, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. Prissy? Entitled? I was none, absolutely none, of those things. Anger rolled down my spine, warming it. I bit the inside of my cheek, but then thought, screw it. I added fuel to the fire. “Don't forget you called me incompetent and said I just wanted attention.”
“God.” He ran his hands through his long, shaggy hair. Sighing for so long, I wondered how he breathed. Then, he nodded a couple of times to himself, his full lips turning down. “My judgement was incorrect. I did some research and chatted with one of your professors. You’ve had a tough bout, losing your mom so young. I’m sorry. No wonder you called me Asshole Anderson.”
Shit. Did I? I must've. No point hiding it now. I shrugged. “AA if I'm feeling lazy.”
His mouth twisted before a small smile came out. “Well deserved, then.”
“Yup.” I turned onto my side, so my knee was in the air, but my ass was still covered by my dress. “Thanks for helping. And for apologizing. I still don't like you, but I don't hate you either.”
“Fair enough. I’m sorry, again, for assuming things that are not true about you.” He stood and patted my leg. “Goodnight, Grace.”
“Bye, Anderson.”
Then, lights out.
Chapter Four
I slept for fifteen hours. Fifteen, long and wonderful hours that put an extra spring in my step the following Monday. Beside the fact I limped slightly because my dumb ass fell onto the ground, the normal trepidation and anxiety I experienced whenever I walked into the stadium bright and early was missing. I waved at the security guards, like I had every day before, and they smiled. “Morning, gentleman.”
“Mornin’ Ms. Gracie. How are you today?”
“Fabulous. Just fabulous.” I waved and turned to head toward the office but ran into a hard, strong wall. No, it wasn't a wall. It was a chest. “Shit.” I clutched my nose, wincing against the stinging.
“Sorry. Definitely thought you heard me,” Anderson grumbled, his voice raspy and deep and just-rolled-out-of bed-sexy. “Let me see.”
He put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me back, so he could look at me. He lowered his face, releasing a deep breath as he scanned my face. I removed my hand from my still-stinging nose. “I'm fine, Anderson.”
I didn't like how close he was to me, or the way my body totally betrayed my brain.
His cheek twitched, right below his eye, but then it went away. “So, Grace, how's your knee?”
“Ah, I rested it all day yesterday. It hurts a bit.”
He nodded and motioned for me to follow him.
“Are we starting early today?”
He kept walking, like he was on a mission.
I tried to keep up, but my knee didn't allow it. We entered the clubhouse area, where vehicles and golf carts were stored. My heart rate picked up.
He rounded the corner and went to a small grey cabinet on the
wall, picked out a set of keys, and tossed them to me. “Nineteen is yours. It doesn't matter where you park it, but don't block anyone in. You can take it anywhere in the stadium, except the main entrance area. They tend to frown on that.”
I held the keys in my hand, nodding. He still hadn't looked at me, but his tone was light, kind even, and happy. I followed his voice as he searched for nineteen. He hit the hood of the cart with his hand, the other on his hip when he turned to face me. I wasn’t sure what he saw when he looked at me, but the lines around his mouth grew tight, and his blue eyes narrowed. “Why is your mouth open?”
“Is it? I just, I'm glad I don't have to walk on this thing all day,” I said, looking down at my knee. “What's on the agenda today, boss man?”
His gaze switched back and forth between my eyes, his mouth parting slightly. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I also didn't care. He took his sweet ass time answering my question and took a seat in the golf cart. “We are going to be on the field most of the day. They are scrimmaging. We need to get water out there, first. Let's get on it.”
“Yes, sir.” I hobbled to the driver’s side, grinning like a Cheshire Cat with my new keys. “Let's do this.”
The scrimmage went well. There were no major injuries, just swollen joints and lots of ice. Lots and lots of ice. I had to make four trips to get more, so damn thankful I had the golf cart. I met two other trainers, part-timers, that day—Lisa and Matt. They were both super kind, hardworking, and students at the university. We were all so busy we were unable to talk, but there was a comfort in a group of people working together silently.
The midday sun hit the back of my neck. I winced, having forgotten to put on sunscreen. I went to the water station, wetting my hands to put on the back of my neck. I hissed.
One of the players nodded at me, and I smiled, hoping it came off as professional. He wore a helmet, so I wasn’t sure who he was. I made a note to myself to learn all of the players’ names.
Then, I started the pickup process before sneaking off to grab lunch. I dumped the coolers, picked up the water bottles, and loaded one on the cart when Anderson walked up to me from the edge of the field. He generally worked with the major players, the quarterback, the defense line, the bigger guys. He wore his typical uniform again, somehow pulling off the polo look. I waved, half-assed. “Hey, boss.”
Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1) Page 3
