King of the Court

by Melanie Munton

  But there were no more make-out or groping sessions for over a week after the party. And every time we actually had to speak to one another our conversations were full of smart ass comments and backhanded jibes. Rather than subtle compliments and sweet endearments, which was what I would have expected from him if he were actually attempting to woo me.

  Not that I wanted him to.

  Without realizing it, I’d taken Gemma’s advice and tried to keep things just physical between us. Being in an actual relationship with Cam would be way too messy. There were too many factors at play here—the team’s reaction, the press, other students at school. My dad. No matter how I felt deep down about him, it was probably best to leave well enough alone.

  But as much as you’d think him maintaining his distance would help with that, it was actually making it worse.

  Had he planned that?

  Was he some kind of sexual genius?

  If his kisses and the way he worked his fingers were anything to go by…yes. Yes, he was.

  I had about an hour after my last class to run home and change clothes, scarf down an early dinner, and make my way back over to the arena for tonight’s game. I was in the process of eating said dinner when Syd whooshed through the apartment door, dropped her bag on the living room floor, and faced me in the kitchen.

  “If I’m about to encounter any pranks,” she said, “I suggest aborting them right now, or my head’s liable to spin around three hundred and sixty degrees and then I’ll vomit on you.”

  I snorted. “As fun as that experience would be, I’ve been too busy to devise another one. I can’t speak for Gemma, though.”

  Satisfied with that answer, she walked over to the fridge and pulled out her open bottle of Pinot Grigio. And then she proceeded to drink straight from the bottle. She never did that. Her pedigree wouldn’t allow it.

  “You might want to slow down on that, or we’ll have to scrape you off the bathroom floor like we did the night of the party.”

  She groaned, leaning her forehead against the freezer door. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that night again.”

  “Oh, you mean the night you called Boyd out on staring at your boobs?”

  She spit wine out all over the fridge doors and spun around to face me. “I said what?”

  I tried to act like I wasn’t laughing my ass off inside my head. “Did we forget to mention that part?”

  She covered her face with her hands to hide her extreme blush. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything else that humiliating.”

  I shrugged. “Other than requesting someone to play ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ at the top of your lungs while you and Boyd were dancing, I can’t really think of anything. FYI, I’m pretty sure Boyd would have let you ride him like a horse all night long if you’d wanted to.”

  “I can never show my face around those guys again,” she moaned, falling onto the stool across the counter from me.

  I took another bite of my turkey pesto panini I’d picked up on my way home. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. Everyone has nights like that. Don’t worry about it. It was actually pretty funny.” Her eyes flew to me. “Not in a, ‘ha-ha, look at that girl’ funny,” I assured her. “But in a, ‘that girl’s freaking hilarious’ funny. Trust me, Gemma and I would have pulled you out of there if it was that bad. Boyd seemed pretty enamored, though.”

  “He did?” she asked, unable to mask her curiosity.

  I bit back my grin and nodded. “He’s asked about you, you know.”

  She sat up straighter in the stool, clearly now more interested in the conversation. “What did he say?”

  “He was just asking basic questions like what you did for a living, how we met, stuff like that. He also asked for your number.” Her eyebrows drew together in concern. “I told him you had a boyfriend.”

  Her shoulders slumped, her face falling in what I could only guess was disappointment. All be damned. She might actually like Boyd.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  Then she went right back to chugging down that wine, sans glass.

  “So…?” I tipped my head down at the bottle in question.

  Her eyes went flat. “My mother took me out for lunch today. She and Dad are talking about an engagement.”

  I shook my head, positive I’d heard wrong. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She sighed. “Apparently, the two of them and Caleb have been discussing it. Although, no one said a word to me about it until today. They prefer a year-long engagement and a wedding next spring.”

  Dropping my sandwich, I slammed my hands onto the counter. “Hold on. Do you hear yourself right now? What century are we in? Syd, you’re talking about your parents arranging a marriage for you to a man you don’t even love.”

  For once, she actually didn’t deny it.

  “I’m aware of my current situation, Reese,” she said wryly.

  “Then do something about it,” I said probably a little too loudly. “I know this isn’t the life you want. No one can make the decision to get out of this and break up with Caleb but you. Stop letting them control you like this.”

  She pursed her lips. “It’s not that simple. There’s a lot going on here with my dad’s and Caleb’s dad’s businesses. There’s Caleb’s career to consider. And if I ended this with him, I would be throwing my family and a lot of the people I grew up with away. They wouldn’t forgive me, and my parents would basically disown me.”

  “Then you shouldn’t want them in your life,” I shrieked. “If they’re going to treat you like that, they aren’t worth your time.”

  “Right. Because it’s so easy for you to throw people out of your life, like you did with your dad?” she shot back, sending a dagger straight through my heart. “Well, not all of us can do that.”

  She must have seen the hurt on my face because hers instantly crumbled. “I’m sorry, Reese. I didn’t mean that. I know that’s not what happened with your family.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m just really stressed.”

  I reached across the counter and squeezed her shoulder. “I just don’t want to see you end up unhappy, Syd. You’re my best friend, and you deserve someone who actually loves you for you.”

  Her smile was tired. “Thanks. I’ll figure it all out, though.” She walked toward her bedroom, bottle still in hand. “I’m going to go take a long hot bath. Have fun at the game.”

  My gut twisted at her defeated tone. I’d always assumed she would eventually come to her senses about this whole Caleb thing before things got really serious. Now, though? With talks of an engagement and marriage?

  I was really starting to worry about her.

  20

  Reese

  Trying to shake off my conversation with Syd, I threw myself into work when I got to the training room. Gus had called me earlier that afternoon to say he was sick with the flu and wouldn’t be able to make it to the game. So, I was going to be all alone tonight. Great.

  A knock sounded on the adjoining locker room door before I could even gather myself.

  “Come in.”

  The door creaked open softly and Boyd stuck his head through. “Hey, Reese. You got a minute?”

  “Sure.” I waved him toward the exam table. “Have a seat. What’s up?”

  He held out his left hand and gingerly rotated his wrist in both directions. “I don’t know for sure, but I might have a slight sprain in my wrist. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s not unmanageable pain, either.”

  I carefully turned it in a side-to-side and up and down motion, asking him to rate the level of pain he was experiencing. I determined he was probably right. It seemed to be a mild sprain, which should heal within a week or two if he didn’t further injure it.

  “I’ll wrap it for the next several days, but if the pain gets worse you need to let me know immediately.”

  He nodded as I started to wrap and tape up his wrist. “How did you do this, anyway?” I asked. “I don’t remember you doing an
ything to it in practice yesterday.”

  He grunted. “No, the damn bull got loose yesterday. Had to help my dad wrangle the bastard in. I had ahold of the rope at one point, and all it took was one good tug and then my wrist felt funny.”

  My hands paused. I looked at him, perplexed. “So, you sprained your wrist…by wrangling a bull.”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Don’t hear that one every day, do ya?”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re a unique one, I’ll say.”

  He joined in my laughter, though it slowly faded as I felt his attitude take on a more serious note. “How’s your friend Sydney doin’, by the way?”

  My heart sank at the reminder of how despondent she’d acted earlier. “She’s doing all right.”

  He cleared his throat. “Any chance you think she’ll make it to the game tonight?”

  My chest tightened at his hopefulness. He was like an adorable teddy bear that I wanted to wrap my arms around. But he was seriously hot at the same time, so it was a weird dynamic.

  “I don’t think so,” I said regretfully. He showed no reaction other than his eyes losing some of their luster. “You remember she has a boyfriend, right?”

  He nodded, refusing to meet my eyes. “Yeah, you told me.”

  “Well, what I didn’t tell you last time was that I don’t like him.”

  His head jerked up, his eyes now full of renewed hope with questions lurking behind them.

  “In fact, none of her friends do. He’s all wrong for her, but her parents sort of forced them together a couple of years ago.”

  His forehead creased. “What are you sayin’ exactly?”

  “I’m saying there isn’t any love there. If you actually want a chance with Syd, I’d advise you not waste too much time in making your move. Because that girl needs a good boot up her ass. And I think she’s become immune to my lectures. Maybe she needs to hear it from someone with fresh eyes.”

  A smile slowly spread across his golden-tanned face. “Copy that, darlin’.”

  I secured the wrap and made sure it was tight. “Okay. You’re all set.”

  He moved it around, testing his range of motion. Having approved the job, he hopped off the table. His hand was on the doorknob when he turned back to me.

  “Thanks, Reese. I owe you one.”

  I knew that was intended more for the information on Syd than the wrapping job. “Don’t wrangle any more bulls and we’ll be square. We kind of need you for the rest of the season, you know.”

  He laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

  Just when I thought I couldn’t love these guys any more, they decided to be all cute like that.

  What happened to those walls I used to have up around my heart?

  Oh, right. They’d been demolished the second I walked into the men’s locker room and saw Cam Donovan naked.

  ***

  The game was close.

  A loss would bring an end to NCU’s undefeated season, so everyone in that arena was on pins and needles.

  I’d been busy and on my feet all game, dashing back and forth between players. But even when I didn’t have someone to tend to, I was still pacing erratically. I couldn’t handle the suspense.

  It was a four-point game in the middle of the fourth quarter when it happened.

  Cam and one of the players from the other team both chased a loose ball. They sprinted, scurrying after it before it crossed the baseline. My eyes were glued to Cam, so I knew the second he fell to the floor that something was wrong. The referee whistled and the other player stood up.

  But Cam was still on the ground, holding his knee.

  Oh, shit. His knee.

  His right knee.

  My heart in my throat, I practically ran to where he lay on the floor, my dad right on my heels. The entire arena had gone silent, everyone clearly scared for our star player. I knelt over him and saw his face contorted in anguish. Not good.

  “Cam, where does it hurt?” I asked softly.

  We didn’t yet know what this was, and I had to remain calm.

  “My knee,” he choked out.

  He was taking deep breaths as he white knuckled that knee.

  “Let me take a look, okay?”

  My hands replaced his on his knee, and I slowly straightened it out, rotating slightly. “What did it feel like when you landed?”

  “Not a pop,” he rushed to say. He knew what a pop meant, and it was obvious he didn’t want it to be that. “It was more like a sharp twinge.”

  I needed to get him back to the training room to really see what we were dealing with. “Do you think you can walk?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  Assistant Coach Tippins and Jesse helped get Cam to his feet. I turned to my dad and said, “He’s out for the rest of the game.”

  His jaw hardened as he gave a curt nod. I knew if the guys couldn’t pull this game off without Cam and they lost their undefeated record it would be a huge blow to all of them, including my dad. But Cam’s health was more important right now. I took over for Jesse, and we walked into the team tunnel to the sounds of soft applause from the stands. Everyone knew that Cam Donovan being carried off the court was beyond worrisome.

  When we got Cam onto my exam table, I told Coach Tippins he could return to the game. As soon as the door closed behind him, sealing Cam and I in that room, the air immediately changed, thickening. It didn’t matter that he was probably in pain and mostly likely upset, that chemistry between us was still there.

  “It’s not torn, Reese,” he said adamantly. “I’m not dealing with this again.”

  My face softened. “You don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  He shook his head. “It didn’t feel like it did four years ago. I could put weight on it just now. With the first time, it was so painful I couldn’t even put weight on my toes. Tonight I felt a brief sharp pain and I think it just freaked me out.”

  Maintaining my calm façade, I stepped forward and gently pushed him back to lay on the table. “Just let me see. It’ll make me feel better.”

  He snorted. “Groping me makes you feel better, huh? Well, then, by all means.” He rested his hands behind his head. “Grope away.”

  I let out an exasperated huff. “Only you would make dirty comments at a time like this.”

  “Sweetheart, there are very few situations where I wouldn’t make dirty comments.”

  For several minutes, I used different stretching techniques on his knee, gauging his pain level. I was surprised when he didn’t react to most of the stretches, even when I bent it up into his chest.

  “Nothing in this position?” I asked.

  “There’s mild discomfort, but it’s been that way since I tore it,” he answered. “I told you, Reese, I’m fine. I just came down on it wrong.”

  The angle I was at brought our faces closer together. I think we both realized how close at the same moment. His eyes flared, as if his body instantly recognized mine. The fact that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek conjured up so many images of the last time we were this close. Memories of the night at the party assaulted my mind and a wave of heat washed over me. He searched my face, and I was worried what he’d find there. Could he tell I was turned on? Was he waiting for me to make a move? Because that was not going to happen. If ever there was a wrong time and place for that, it was here and now.

  Pulling myself out of the spell, I let go of his leg and stepped back. “I would still feel better if we took you to the doctor.”

  He dropped his head back on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. Was he waging the same inner battle I was? Instead of addressing it, though, he sat up and untucked his jersey from his shorts.

  “I’m not going to the doctor. There’s nothing wrong.”

  I placed both hands on my hips, my expression brooking no arguments. “Yes, you are going. I’ll annoy the hell out of you until you do, so don’t push me.”

  He looked amused. “How would you annoy the hell out of m
e?”

  “I’ll sing ‘I Will Always Love You’ over and over again.”

  He shrugged. “That’s a good song. Why would that bother me?”

  My lip curled up. “I’m completely tone deaf. Dogs have been known to run away at the sound of my voice.”

  And I was unashamed. I couldn’t carry a tune, but did that stop me from singing my heart out in the shower? No sir-ee.

  He appeared nonplussed. “Do your worst.”

  You asked for it.

  I sucked in a deep breath and belted at the top of my lungs, “And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-eee-IIIIIIII…will aaallllwaaayyys loooove yyoooouuuu…”

  He covered his ears and yelled, “Ah! Okay, stop! Stop!” before I could get another line out. He glared. “You’ve made your point. You can’t sing for shit.”

  I mentally patted myself on the back. “I thought you’d see it my way.”

  His eyes suddenly took on some sort of emotion I couldn’t name. And didn’t really want to. I had to stay professional—mostly—or my own emotions might get the better of me.

  “You’re evil, woman.”

  I packed up my bag and grabbed my purse. “I use the tools I have.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a tool you could use,” he muttered.

  Ignoring that, I continued, “Plus, my dad would have made you go if I didn’t. The program has certain policies and with a pre-existing injury like yours, they would have forced you to go get it checked out.”

  He waved his arm at the door. “Lead the way, then, sweetheart.”

  I glanced down at his knee in concern. “Will you be okay to walk?”

  He rolled his eyes and basically shoved me out the door. “Move your ass, Reese, or I’ll be happy to do it for you.”

  Despite his bravado, he still walked with caution down the tunnel. Not like he was in pain, but more like he was waiting for the pain. Preparing for it. I wasn’t sure what that meant.