by Jill Shalvis
“Yeah, a little bit. Thought I could help out somehow.” Or see you…
“Great.” She slapped her clipboard to his chest. “Can you figure out which supplies we need to order?”
“What?”
“Check the list against the stock in the storage closet,” she directed, and pointed to the same supply closet where only a week ago he’d kissed the both of them senseless. But before he could remind her of that, she was gone.
“Nice technique,” Rick said as he came down the hallway. “Is that how you landed that Victoria’s Secret model you dated last month?”
“Shut up.” Mark looked down at the clipboard. “She wants me to be the supply boy.”
“Huh. Probably she doesn’t realize how important you are.”
Mark sighed. “You’re an ass.”
“Are you sure that’s me?”
Mark ignored this and opened the door to the closet, eyeing the shelf he’d pinned Rainey against. Clearly, he was losing his mind. It was obvious she didn’t need him or even particularly like him. She didn’t take his calls. She didn’t seek him out.
And she wasn’t just playing with him either, or being coy. That’s not how she operated. What you saw was what you got with Rainey. She was the real deal.
And she didn’t want him.
He wasn’t sure how the shoe had gotten on the other foot, but it had and he needed to accept it and move on. Except…he couldn’t seem to do that, which made no sense. He’d never been more on top of his world. His career was solid, his bank account was solid.
Maybe this vague unease was just from being back in Santa Rey, back with his father and brother, the two people in his life who didn’t buy into his press. Yeah, that had to be it, being with family, with people who knew bullshit when they saw it and called him on it with no qualms. Here there was no snapping his fingers and getting his every need taken care of. Here no one looked at him to solve their every problem and deferred to him as if he were their god.
Here, he was the supply boy.
He supposed his dad was right about one thing—Santa Rey was home, since he hadn’t bothered to get attached to anyplace else he’d been.
He thought briefly of his past girlfriends, or more accurately, lovers. He’d been with some incredibly beautiful women and yet he’d never gotten too attached for the sole reason that he hadn’t wanted the additional responsibility.
It was possible he’d made a mistake there, that in trying to protect himself, he’d made it so he couldn’t engage.
No, that wasn’t it. He’d engaged with Rainey just fine. He’d engaged everything he had—body and heart and soul.
And maybe that was it. All this time he’d been just fine on his own with the occasional woman for fun and diversion and stress release. But Rainey was shockingly different.
Why her? What was it about her that had so lowered his defenses? Because she was a nightmare waiting to happen to his life. She wasn’t arm candy—not that she wasn’t beautiful, because she was. She simply wasn’t the type of woman to be content with the few crumbs he’d be able to give her, a mere side dish to the craziness of his life.
In fact, she had her own crazy life.
And what if she got attached? What then?
Except.
Except…she sure as hell didn’t appear to be too attached.
He blew out another sigh and spent the next ten minutes comparing the list of needed supplies to what was on the shelves. There was no comparison, really. The center was short of everything, and he grabbed his phone. If he was doing this, then he was doing it right. He snapped a picture of the list and emailed it to the one person who could help him, then followed with a phone call.
Tony Ramirez answered with, “Yo, what can I get you?”
Tony was the Mammoths’ supply manager. He stocked everything the players and staff needed, specifically the locker room, medical room and kitchen. It was a big job, and not an easy one. During the season, the team’s needs varied on a day-to-day basis, from Ace bandages to the latest Xbox game to a turkey club sandwich on sourdough from the deli down the street, to a new Mammoths jersey on a moment’s notice…which meant that Tony was pretty much a world-class concierge service.
“Need some supplies,” Mark said. “I’m in Santa Rey.”
“Good for you, I’m in Cabo.”
“Shit,” Mark said. “Never mind.”
“No, I’ve got my laptop. I can work my magic from anywhere, no worries. What do you need? Is it for Operation: Make The Mammoths Look Good Again, or for that chick that James and Casey tell me you’re trying to impress?”
Mark pictured himself happily strangling his players.
“They make ’em pretty there in Santa Rey, huh?”
They did. They also made them feisty and sharp as hell, not to mention loyal and caring, and warm. So goddamn warm that Mark could still feel Rainey wrapped around him, the gentle heat of her breath on his throat as she pressed her face there, moaning his name. He could still feel the way she’d moved against him, driving him crazy. The way she’d shattered in his arms, clutching at him as if he was everything.
And then in the next moment she’d decided it didn’t mean anything. Which he was fine with. Fucking fine. “The rec center here is in desperate need of some supplies. I just sent you the list.”
“Didn’t I just send you a bunch of baseball and softball equipment?”
“Yeah. This list is more for the rec center itself. Office supplies. But also, the kids I’m coaching are short on stuff I didn’t anticipate. Running shoes, cleats, and…girlie stuff.”
“Girlie stuff?”
“Sports bras.”
“Sports bras. Are you shitting me?”
“You order jockstraps and compression shorts all the time.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “Because I know how to fit a dick into a cup. I have no knowledge of breasts—well, other than personal knowledge.” He laughed to himself. “Where the hell am I supposed to get sports bras?”
“Hell, I don’t know. The bra store? You said you were magic.”
“Aw, man, you’re going to owe me. The next blonde reality star that throws herself at you, you have to give to me. Make that the next two blondes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mark said. “Also get water bottles, enough for each kid and staff member because there’s never enough water on the fields. Use the aluminum Mammoth ones if you want. And I want an iPad for stats, and—”
“An iPad?”
Turning, Mark came face to face with Rainey, who was standing in the doorway.
“We’re barely budgeted for sports,” she said dryly. “Pretty sure we’re not budgeted for miracles.”
Mark hung up on Tony. “Just trying to help.”
“Or micromanaging,” she suggested.
He smiled. “Again, hello, Mrs. Pot.”
She sighed and shut the door, closing them in the closet. “It’s very generous of you to do this,” she said, staying firmly out of reach. A real feat in the small space.
“Yes, it is.” Because she smelled amazing, he shifted closer without even thinking about it. “Feel free to thank me in any way you see fit.”
Her mouth quirked, but she remained cool, calm and collected, in charge of her world.
It was a huge turn-on. Hell, everything about her was. Especially those shorts. Pressing her back against the door, he flattened his hands on either side of her head. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy, is all.” Her breasts brushed his chest and they both sucked in a breath.
Slowly he tipped his head down and watched as her nipples puckered and poked against the material of her shirt. “You’re instigating again.”
“My nipples have a mind of their own!”
Crowding her, he closed his teeth over her earlobe and tugged, not all that lightly.
She moaned and grabbed the fabric of his shirt. “No fair. I can’t control my body’s response to you.”
Even
better. He nipped his way down her jaw to her throat, nearly smiling when she tilted her head to make room for him. “God. Mark, stop.” But even as she said it, she tightened her grip so he couldn’t get away, tugging on a few chest hairs as she did. “Please,” she said softly.
“I’ll please anything you want, Rainey.”
“Please don’t do this. Don’t make me want you.”
Well, hell. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. At least not when it came to her. He pulled back and met her gaze. “There are two of us in this, Rainey. Two of us wanting each other.” With one last long look at her, he left the closet and made his way to practice, where he found the girls in various poses on the stands.
At least they were dressed in the gear he’d given them. Pepper was on the top row reading a book. Cindy was sprawled across three benches, staring at the sky, twirling a strand of her hair, yammering on her cell phone. Kendra was at the bottom eating a candy bar and sucking a soda. The others were scattered in between, talking, laughing, doing each other’s hair and texting.
Only Sharee was on the field, stretching.
Mark shot her a small smile, then walked up to the stands. “What’s this?”
Every single one of the girls kept doing whatever they were doing. He mentally counted to three and asked again, using the voice that routinely terrified his world-class athletes in a blink.
The girls still didn’t budge. With a sigh, he blew his whistle. With a variety of eye rolls, the teens made their way down to the grass in front of him.
“When you’re dressed out,” he said, “I expect to see you here running your drills. Not texting, not talking on the phone, not eating candy. You do all of that on your own time. This is my time.”
Grumbling, they turned away to start their drills. “And what did I say about sagging?” he asked Kendra, whose shorts were so low he had no idea how she kept them up. “No shorts down past your ass—” Dammit. He pulled out a buck and handed it to Pepper, the keeper of the swear jar. “Or you won’t play. Now start stretching, following the routine I showed you, or you’ll be running laps.”
They headed to join Sharee on the field. Mark watched them go, aware of Rainey coming up to his side. He waited for her to blast him about…hell, he didn’t know what. Maybe breathing incorrectly.
Instead, she gave him an interminable look. “You do realize that they’re teenage girls, not grown men,” she finally said.
“I have minimum requirements, regardless of the age or sex of the athlete. They’re not difficult to meet.”
“What are they?”
“Honesty, loyalty and one-hundred-percent participation.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Those are all good requirements,” she said, and began walking back to the building.
Nice ass, he thought, and walked in the opposite direction, onto the field, handing Pepper another dollar.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“I thought a bad word.”
* * *
RAINEY MADE HER way to her office, then stared out the window at the field. She had a million things to do and yet she was riveted in place, watching Mark coach the girls just as she’d occasionally watched him on TV. Hell, who was she kidding, she’d watched him more than occasionally. He had a way of standing at his team bench looking deceptively calm except for all that unfailing intensity and dogged aggression.
He was coaching the girls the same way he did his guys—hard and ruthless, and somehow also shockingly patient. And while not exactly kind, he had a way of being incredibly fair.
The girls, who’d given her and every other coach they’d had such endless grief, did everything in their power to please him.
“Rainey?”
She turned from the window to her office door and found Cliff from Accounting smiling at her. He was lanky lean, with dark spiky hair and smiling eyes. He was shy as hell, but also one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. “Did I forget to sign my expense account again?” she asked.
Cliff laughed. They didn’t have expense accounts. Hell, they were lucky to have salaries. “No.” He looked behind them as if to make sure they were alone. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime.”
Some of her surprise must have shown on her face because he smiled with endearing self-consciousness and lifted a shoulder. “I know. We’ve worked together forever so why now, right? But—”
“Lena,” Rainey guessed. “Lena put you up to this.”
“She mentioned you were open to dating right now, but honestly I’ve always wanted to ask you out.”
Aw. Dammit. And she was open to dating. Supposedly. And if it hadn’t been for a certain alpha, obnoxious, annoying man outside on the field voluntarily helping her with the teens, the same alpha, obnoxious, annoying man she kept accidentally having sex with, she’d probably have said yes. “Cliff, I—”
“Just think about it,” he said quickly, already backing away. “Don’t give me your answer now. I’ll call you sometime, okay?”
And then he was gone.
Rainey looked out the window again. Yep, Mark was still out there, batting pop flies to the girls for catching practice. He’d given them directions on how to improve and they were doing their best to follow.
And failing, a lot.
Never giving up, Mark kept at them, not afraid to get right in there to show them exactly what he wanted. He moved with easy grace and intensity, and she flashed back to a few days prior, when he’d moved inside of her with that same grace and intensity.
The memory made her legs wobble. She pressed her forehead to the window. The girls were trying to do what Mark wanted, tossing him back the balls as soon as he hit them.
Sharee was the fastest and the best, even with the healing bruise on her face and sullen attitude. She’d missed a practice, then showed up today without a word of explanation. Rainey had tried to press the girl for details on what was going on at home, asking if she needed any help, interference, anything, but Sharee was an island.
Which might have something to do with the phone call Rainey had taken yesterday from the girl’s father, the second extremely obnoxious “mind your own fucking business” phone call. Martin needed a new tune to sing.
Sharee rocketed a ball to Mark at the same time as Pepper. Mark caught Sharee’s, and took Pepper’s ball in the crotch.
Though she couldn’t hear the collective gasp that went up from the entire team, Rainey sensed it as Mark bent at the waist. Whirling, she ran out of her office, hitting the field, pushing her way through the circle of girls around Mark. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, just sucked in another breath.
“Mark?”
Still bent over, hands on his thighs, he held up a finger indicating he needed a minute.
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Stop talking.”
It was late enough to call practice, so Rainey excused the girls. As they shuffled by, they offered a chorus of “Sorry, Coach” and “get better, Coach.”
When she was alone with Mark, Rainey asked, “Do you need a doctor? Ice for the swelling?”
With a slight groan, he finally straightened and sent her a dark glare.
“What?” she asked. “That’s what you do for an injury. You ice it, right? It eases the pain and swelling.”
“This is not the kind of pain and swelling I need you to manage for me,” he grated out.
“Are you sure?”
He drew another deep breath and gained some of his color back as he walked stiffly past her. “I’m fine.”
“I’m just trying to help. Offer a little TLC.”
“Tell you what,” he said. “If you really want to get your hands on my cock again, then—” He broke off at her surprised gasp. “Oh, sorry, we never did decide what you deemed an acceptable term for that particular body part, did we?”
She lifted her chin. “Clearly, you’re feeling better
.”
At that, a hint of amusement came into his eyes. “Yeah. But any time you want to kiss it and make it all better, you know where I’m staying.”
* * *
A FEW NIGHTS later, the Mammoths were scheduled for an exhibition game for a huge local charity event at home in Sacramento against the San Jose Sharks.
Rick drove Lena and Rainey to the game. Rainey didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t to sit with the players’ girlfriends and wives, with a crystal-clear view of the ice and an even better one of the Mammoths’ bench.
Mark was there with his players, of course, wearing his hat low, mouth grim as the tight game stayed tied all the way to the end, when his team pulled a goal out of nowhere in overtime.
Rainey was pretty sure she never took her eyes off Mark, not even when Casey was body checked into the end boards or when James took a flip pass to the head. Afterwards, Rick took her and Lena to the team room. There was a huge spread of food, reporters and players. Everyone was eating, relaxing, speaking to the media…having a good time.
Mark was in his big office off to the side, a large wall of glass revealing him standing at a huge desk, on his phone and laptop at the same time.
“Post game crap,” Rick said, handing her a drink. “The Mammoths are working on their media coverage.”
She nodded and continued to watch Mark in his element until he lifted his head and leveled his gaze unerringly on her.
She caught his surprise in the slight widening of his eyes before he left his office and came to her.
“You didn’t know I was here,” she said when he stood directly in front of her.
“Rick is a sneaky bastard.”
“We had great seats,” she said. “Usually I sit way up in the nose bleed section—” She broke off, but it was too late. Her secret was out. She met his gaze, his eyes full of laughter.
“You come to the games,” he said.
She sighed. “Sometimes. But mostly I watch them on TV.”
“To see me?”
“Well let’s not go overboard.”
“Admit it.”
She sighed again. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
His grin widened, and two players across the way gawked at him. So did the members of his coaching staff. In fact, everyone near them stared.
