“Well, I’m always around if that changes.” I stood up and pasted on a polite smile. “I’ll go grab that sleeve for you.”
His face fell, as if disappointed by my response. Then a grin formed. “Try not to drool over another guy’s ass while you’re back there.”
“I did not drool over anything.”
He rose to his feet, immediately engulfing me in his large form. “I recognize a turned on woman when I see one, sweetheart. Don’t worry, it happens all the time.”
My pulse kicked up a notch. Not because of sudden arousal like yesterday, but because of the white hot fury shooting through my system. Screw taking the high road. This guy needed to be knocked down a peg or two. There was maintaining professionalism, and then there was just plain standing up for yourself. And protecting your dignity, dammit.
I patted his arm, my voice reeking of condescension. “Well, I recognize a case of Small Dick Syndrome when I see one.” His expression darkened. “I can’t imagine what being short shafted feels like, but try not to overcompensate so much in the future.”
I turned to walk away, but was immediately pulled back. Cam’s hand lightly gripped my arm as he brought our bodies far too close together. He was glaring down at me, though it wasn’t just anger I saw in his eyes. There was unmistakable lust there, too.
“Anytime you want proof of just how wrong you are,” he whispered, “you let me know.”
My upper lip curled. “Don’t hold your breath.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, and I waited with bated breath. He was pissing me off, yet at the same time, I was excited. For some reason, talking to him made my blood run faster, filling me with adrenaline. Sparring with him like this was the most enjoyment I’d had talking to the opposite sex in forever. And we were constantly slinging insults at each other.
There was something wrong with that.
After several seconds of our eyes locked in a silent, heated battle, he suddenly glanced down at our bodies. His eyes widened and he immediately let go of my arm, backing away. His eyes shot around the court, as if checking to make sure no one was watching our exchange, and glared at me one final time.
“Watch yourself, Reese.” Then he stomped off.
What the hell did that mean?
Was that a threat? A warning?
Despite the ominous words, his departure allowed the python around my lungs to loosen its hold. I could breathe again.
If I was going to survive this season, I would really have to get a handle on my attraction to this guy.
8
Reese
Dinner with your own father shouldn’t make you so…fidgety. Right?
Too bad I never went with convention. Because it would have been awesome if my lower lip wasn’t so raw right now from biting down on it so hard.
I entered the swanky upscale restaurant in downtown Calhoun with apprehension swirling in my belly. It was rare that I ditched my casual attire for anything, but I actually enjoyed getting dressed up when the occasion called for it. For this occasion, I’d gone with a fitted knee-length skirt, chiffon blouse, and heels. Not that dinner with my dad should be any sort of occasion. It should feel relaxed, not ceremonial. Yet there was a level of pomp and circumstance in the air I wished would go away.
I spotted my father before I reached the hostess stand, so I skirted past the podium, dodging servers wearing black vests over white shirts as I went. Gold and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and all the ivory tablecloths were ironed to perfection. Not my usual type of haunt, but my dad and I didn’t exactly run in the same circles.
“I’m happy you made it,” he said when I approached the table. He smiled and stood, kissing me on the cheek before pulling my chair out for me.
I removed my jacket and laid it on the back of my chair. “Well, it was either this or brave eating Gemma’s cauliflower chickpea patties.”
He chuckled. “I’m flattered you picked me over cauliflower. I guess I would have been out of luck if she’d made liver and brussel sprouts, huh?”
At least I could say I came by my sense of humor honestly.
I smiled. “Who could ever resist liver?”
We put in our drink orders as we continued to peruse the menu. I was starving, yet my mind was such a scrambled mess, I didn’t know if I’d be able to manage eating anything but bread.
He seemed to be as out of sorts as I was. “How’s it going with the team? Do you like the job so far?”
I didn’t miss the hopefulness in his tone.
“I actually like it a lot,” I said. “More so than I thought I would.”
He looked very pleased at hearing that, and some of the tension in my shoulders eased.
“Good.” His expression turned sheepish. “I confess that I may have had something to do with getting you on the men’s team.”
“I had my suspicions.” Though I was surprised he’d owned up to it.
His brows drew together. “Don’t get me wrong, the committee was going to give you the women’s team job either way. You earned that on your own. I had nothing to do with it.” He swiped his hand over his jawline, appearing embarrassed. “I just may have convinced them that you’d be a better fit for our team instead.”
I didn’t immediately respond, mainly because I wasn’t sure how I felt about him sticking his nose into my affairs.
His eyes filling with worry, he rushed to say, “I’m sorry I interfered like that. I know I shouldn’t have. It’s just…” He paused, sighing. “I just thought it would be the perfect opportunity for us to spend some time together. I’ve…missed you, Reese.”
It was reflex to automatically bristle at the implication that we hadn’t been spending much time together, since it was he who had been absent for so many years. Not me. But I stopped and told myself that this was our chance to start over. Clean slate. Leave the past in the past and move on. Because if I ever wanted to have a relationship with my father, I had to let all of that go.
Gold star to me for behaving like an adult. It was bound to happen someday.
“Normally, I would be angry at you for thinking you had the right to do that,” I said, holding up my hand when he opened his mouth to respond. “But I suppose you had good intentions. Plus, I like the job so I can’t really complain. And…” I flitted my eyes back and forth between him and the candle on the table, fighting to keep my expression neutral. “I’ve missed you, too.”
There was a lot of emotion emanating from his features when he grinned. I got all squirmy at the happiness I saw there.
“But for future reference,” I added in a more serious voice, “I don’t appreciate anyone meddling in my life.”
He nodded in understanding. “I promise. No more interference.”
We made casual conversation as we waited for our food, discussing my classes and plans after graduation. The conversation felt more organic than I’d expected it to be. Not as stilted or forced. Despite going months of not seeing each other in person, it was…companionable.
“NCU was a good decision, then?” he asked just as our food arrived.
Although I’d grown up in North Carolina, I’d earned my undergraduate degree from a college in Virginia, so I could stay close to my mom after she’d moved up there for a job. But I knew that if I got accepted into NCU’s PT program, I’d move back to North Carolina in a second. It was hard being farther away from her, but I hoped that getting closer to my father would balance out the scales.
I began cutting into my steak. “Definitely. I love my professors, and I’m making some really great connections. And I have to admit, it’s nice being back in the area. It’s always felt like home to me here.”
Not that I never felt at home in Virginia near my mom. But we had all lived in Blue Lake together—the hometown of Belvedere University—up until my parents got divorced. And since it was basically right next to Calhoun, I’d spent a lot of my youth between the two towns. It all still felt so familiar.
“Well,
I can tell you the basketball courts in Tennison Park have certainly missed you,” he said through a crooked smile. “You remember cleaning all the neighbor boys’ clocks in those pick-up games?” He laughed. “How old were you? Eight?”
Warmth surrounded my heart. “I had just turned eight when we started going, yeah.”
“And you had the best shot of any eight-year-old I’ve ever seen,” he stated proudly. “I still go there to run whenever I have time.”
I remembered him taking me to the park down the street from our house almost every weeknight—before he took on bigger coaching jobs—to work on my game. Then some of the other kids in the neighborhood had come sniffing around, and we started having regular games. But I also remembered that as time went on, he visited those courts with me less and less, until I stopped going myself because it wasn’t as much fun without him.
His eyes sparked with amusement, oblivious to my bleak thoughts. “I remember the night I got a hysterical phone call from one of the boy’s moms, complaining about how you’d elbowed her son in the nose.”
I shrugged, a smile forming. “He said that girls shouldn’t play ball with boys. That I was too weak and couldn’t handle myself. It was my duty to little girls everywhere to prove him wrong.”
He stifled a laugh behind his hand. “I guess I’m to blame for all the fights you got into as a kid.”
What fights? It was just that one time.
Oh, and the time in third grade when Bobby Lechman dipped my Barbie doll’s hair in red paint, so I’d given his G.I. Joe a bath in a tub of Elmer’s glue. Tit for tat. Okay, yes, and there was also the time in junior high when Ricky Pattis snapped my bra, so I’d put him in a headlock. That was more like self-defense, though. And I guess you could count the scuffle with Alicia Albright in high school as a fight. She’d accused me of messing around with her boyfriend and tried to start a fight by pulling my hair in the hallway. So, I’d pushed her into the lockers. I would have done more if a teacher hadn’t pulled me off her. But that was all totally justified.
FYI, I never touched her slimy boyfriend. He’d tried touching me, though, and I’d rewarded him with a good ‘ol scrotum shot for his efforts.
Okay, so I guess I had been in a few fights.
I frowned. “Why is that?”
His gaze turned apologetic. “I pushed you to be tough. I think I was too hard on you.”
I shook my head and swallowed my sip of water. “Not at all. You taught me how to stand up for myself. Defend myself, which came in handy. I was a strong kid in large part because you didn’t baby me.”
His face softened. “You’re still strong. Even stronger than I’d hoped you would be.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I was all for starting fresh, but I wasn’t sure how heavy I wanted to go yet. We had the rest of our lives to have those deep moments, and I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for it tonight. He seemed to sense my change in demeanor and switched topics.
“Could you see yourself working directly with a sports program like NCU in the future? As a trainer?”
I moved around some of the vegetables on my plate as I contemplated my answer. “Maybe. I guess we’ll see how this season goes. I think my end goal would be to open up my own practice one day. I like the prospect of working with all different kinds of athletes and injuries.”
He stared into his wine glass for a second, looking pensive. “Do you plan on staying here in Calhoun after graduation?”
That was a loaded question. One that I could tell had a deeper meaning behind it than he was letting on. I knew he didn’t have any immediate plans to leave Calhoun and his job here. And I was sure the university had no intention of getting rid of him. So if I moved away again, we wouldn’t see each other very often.
“I’m not sure,” was the best response I could give. “It really depends on where I can get a job I like. I’ve always liked Calhoun, but it’s all contingent on what opportunities are out there for me.”
He nodded. After a few seconds, his mouth curved up in a smile that I had a feeling was a little forced. “For what it’s worth, Gus thinks you’re doing one hell of a job.”
I laughed. “Today was my second day. How amazing could I be after only two days?”
Considering the amount of self-restraint I’d exhibited thus far—sexually and patience-wise—I actually thought I was pretty worthy of the title. Thanks a lot, Cam.
“He’s just very fond of you,” my father said. “He says you’re one of the best students in the PT program.”
Seriously? Coming from a well-respected guy like Gus, that was saying a lot.
I flicked my wrist with flare, feigning indignity. “What can I say? I impress even myself sometimes.”
He pretended to look exasperated. “Ever the modest one.”
“Someone once told me that confidence is one of the best tools a person can possess,” I said pointedly.
He looked at me with unmistakable admiration. Because I’d remembered something he’d told me when I was a kid? Well, I had news for him. There were very few things he’d said to me over the years that I hadn’t remembered. Which had made his sudden pseudo-departure from my life that much more painful.
“I still tell my players that,” he said in a low voice.
I placed my napkin on the table and leaned back in my chair. “It’s a good piece of advice.”
Now he looked guilty. “Probably one of the only useful things I’ve ever said to you.”
“You’d be surprised.”
He shot me a curious expression, but the server dropped off our bill before he could say anything more. Sensing that conversation moment had passed, I once again shifted our focus as he pulled out his credit card.
“So, the season starts in two weeks, right?”
The team had played a few preseason games against smaller colleges in their conference, all of which they’d won.
He handed the thin leather folder back to the server when he walked by. “Yep. The Ninth Annual Miami Holiday Invitational starts on Thanksgiving. The team will fly down there the day before, but I’ll give you more information about it next week. You’ll have your own hotel room, of course.”
Right. Because I had to travel everywhere with the team. Which meant spending more time in close quarters with a certain six foot five stack of hotcakes named Cam…
Well, mothereff.
“Sorry you won’t be spending Thanksgiving with your mom,” he said, derailing me from my trip down the rickety tracks of Horny Railroad. Whoo, whoo!
I waved him off. “You mean a year without watching Grandpa get more turkey down his shirt than in his mouth? And listening to Grandma tell the story about how she met one of the Almond Brothers for the four hundredth time? I’m crushed.”
He chuckled. He was always careful to keep conversations involving my mother to a minimum. I think he sensed it was still a sensitive area. Some bruises had never totally faded. I don’t think he had any ill will toward her, nor resentment like she did toward him. Regardless, I appreciated that he respected my preference to leave the subject alone.
His smile faded as his expression turned grave. “By the way, none of the guys have been giving you any problems, have they?”
My heart slammed in my chest. “What do you mean?”
“They haven’t been giving you a hard time or anything?”
By hard time did he mean Vaughn’s playful come-ons that were nothing more than innocent flirtation? Or did he mean something along the lines of the naked cock comments and peeping Tom escapades that Cam and I had engaged in?
Because something told me he wouldn’t want to hear about those hard times.
“No, they’ve all been fine,” I answered, praying my nonchalance came off as genuine.
Dammit, was I blushing? I hoped not. Dead giveaway.
He seemed to assess my reaction for a few seconds before nodding in satisfaction. “Good.”
I glanced down at my watch and realized it was getting
late. “I should probably get going. I’ve got an early morning class and a paper to work on tonight.”
I slipped on my jacket as he led me toward the door. He even walked me to my car, which was…different.
“I hope we can do this more often,” he said. “Maybe make it a regular thing?”
He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. The casual stance was at total odds with the expensive suit he was wearing. I’d never thought that slicked back look was really fitting for him. He seemed more comfortable—more like himself—whenever he was in his track pants and tennis shoes. But when they paid you the big bucks, sometimes you had to look like you were worth big bucks.
My temper flared slightly. Seeing him all spiffed up like this just reminded me that he’d always considered some things more important than others. Like his job over his family. He’d allowed his career to change him and eventually, rip his family apart.
“We can try,” I replied, an edge to my voice. “If we can find time in our busy schedules, that is.”
His face filled with confusion, and I immediately wanted to take back the words. It was a low blow, and I’d told myself that I would be more mature than doling out underhanded comments like that.
Stupid.
I cleared my throat. “I mean, yeah. I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Okay,” he murmured. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow at practice, then?”
I opened my door to distract myself from his wounded expression. “Yep. See you tomorrow.”
I blew out a heavy breath as I pulled out onto the street.
Well, it could have gone worse. Hadn’t been too awkward.
But like I said, some bruises never faded.
And apparently, my bruised heart was still pretty tender.
9
Cam
Economy class seats were not built for basketball players.
God, talk about cramped.
Good thing there was only half an hour left of this damn flight down to Miami. My back was killing me and my knees were bruised from being rammed into the seat in front of me. I could sure as hell use a massage. Hm. Maybe I could convince Reese to rub me down. Tell her I had some pain flaring up—
King of the Court Page 7
