by Sara Rider
The beer can in Alex’s hand crunched from his white-knuckle grip. Every muscle in his body was tensed with fury. Jaime knew there’d be consequences for him if this came out in the wrong light. She promised to let him handle it and then had done the exact opposite. It was the perfect way to ensure he wouldn’t be able to prevent her from playing in tomorrow’s game.
“Look, I don’t give a badger’s bottom what you do with my players on your own time, as long as it’s consensual and doesn’t distract from their play. But right now it sounds like you fell in way over your head. I can’t help you with whatever personal sinkhole you’ve gotten yourself into, but this might help solve some of your professional problems.” He tossed a thin white document into Alex’s lap.
Alex flipped through the pages with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What is this?”
“A résumé.”
No shit. “I meant why do you have it?”
“You’ve been asking for an assistant. Looks like they’ve found a candidate.”
He scanned the pages and swore. “She’s way overqualified for an assistant position.” A position that the administration was apparently hiring without bothering to consult with him. There were two ways this could go. They’d hire this overqualified assistant to push him out slowly, or they’d skip the pussyfooting and just fire him outright. Once the news of what he did with Jaime came to light, there was no question he’d be turfed. His pride didn’t like either of those options.
“Look, we all know what you bring to this team. You just need to keep your head down and your mouth shut, and it’ll be fine.”
Alex nodded ruefully. There was no way to do his job properly and keep his mouth shut at the same time. His no-bullshit attitude is what got him into this mess in the first place, though. In the three years he spent with the Seattle Surge professional men’s soccer team, he’d been outspoken and combative when it came to keeping the players healthy. The lead physio was already wrapped so high up the team owner’s ass, he was making calls based on politics instead of the players’ well-being. Taking unnecessary risks. Something Alex swore he’d never do. Speaking out against it one too many times is what got him transferred to the Falcons. That, and the fact that the news of his involvement in the Martin Daniels scandal had trickled out only after he’d signed the contract with the Surge. It had been the black mark following him around ever since.
Alex accepted the position with the Falcons knowing the drawbacks for two reasons. One, because he didn’t have much choice, and two, because it gave him the freedom to follow his professional integrity. And now he’d gone and fucked that up, too. He stood up, sucked back the rest of his beer in a single gulp, and tossed the can into the bin in the corner of the room. “Thanks for the warning.”
He left Victor’s room with the intention of pounding out some of his anger in the hotel gym before catching up on his preparations for tomorrow’s game, but he didn’t even get two feet before he nearly collided with a handful of loud, laughing Falcons players.
Jaime was front and center of the pack. She gave him a warm, sunny smile, the kind that used to make him feel like the most important man in the world.
“Hey! The Dragons lost to Miami, which means we’re through to the play-offs regardless of tomorrow’s game. We’re headed to the lounge to celebrate. Want to join?” The look on his face must have spoken for him because her smile faded instantly. “Um, go on without us, ladies. We’ll be down in a minute.”
The other women obliged. He stared silently at her until the elevator down the hall dinged shut, signaling that they were alone, then took her by the arm and led her to the stairwell.
“What’s up?”
“Was last night just a ploy to prevent me from being able to treat you?”
She took a step backward, bumping into the wall. “Christ, Alex. Is that what you think of me?”
“Answer the question.”
“No.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “You don’t get to ask me that question. Not that one.”
The intense anger in her voice planted a little seed of doubt in his mind, but he needed to know. “Fine, then answer this one. Are you going to sit out tomorrow?”
She crossed her arms and averted her gaze. “I have to play,” she said in a soft whisper. “The Bodies of Sport shoot is next week.”
“Guess I have my answer, then.”
THE SOUND OF THE heavy door slamming behind Alex as he stormed off made Jaime’s heart jump. She bit her lip hard to keep from sinking to the floor in a pathetic crying fit. How could he accuse her of something so malicious? He didn’t even give her the chance to explain. After Gina caught them kissing, Jaime tried to make it seem like she’d been the only one to act on her sexual impulses, but she never expected that the only person who’d believe her story in the end would be Alex.
He’d made himself perfectly clear. It was a one-night-only thing. The sweet talk and tenderness were just part of his act, and she was a fool to believe she actually meant something to him. The only part of her that mattered to him was her goddamn ankle. Which was fine. For the last four days, there had been no stiffness, no aches, which was one of the longest pain-free stretches she’d had in the last month.
Then again, if she was mapping out the days on her calendar as “pain” or “no-pain,” maybe she was in trouble. Just thinking about it made her feel exhausted. That was one symptom that wasn’t getting any better, but at least she knew it was normal to be tired after the grueling two-week road trip. The lack of sleep last night wasn’t helping anything. She hated feeling this way. She needed to feel like the powerful twenty-five-year-old athlete that she was, not some whiny old lady. She needed a distraction from Alex.
She sucked in a deep breath and headed down the stairs to join her teammates. The unremarkable, overpriced hotel bar overrun by bad jazz music wasn’t exactly the ideal place for a true celebration, but Jaime was grateful for the low lighting that would mask the redness in her eyes.
Lainey waved at Jaime and squeezed closer to Jo at the edge of one of the vinyl-coated booths, making room for her. Plates of nachos and pitchers of beer littered the large table.
“Where’s Alex?” Lainey asked.
“Probably finding another stick to sit on,” Jaime muttered.
“I thought you two were starting to get along?”
Funny how accusing a woman of being a manipulative slut could erase all that goodwill. “Think again.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to start listening to him if you want to be fit for the play-offs.”
“What I need is a drink.” Jaime quickly poured herself a pint and took a sip in spite of the fact it was three-quarters froth. The liquid tasted bitter. Great. She couldn’t even drink away her sorrows.
Jo leaned across the table and snatched a gooey, jalapeno-loaded nacho. “Hey, Jaime, have you given any of your play-off tickets away yet? Kara’s family is coming into town to celebrate the baby, and they wanted to catch the game.” Each player was given four free tickets per home game to distribute as they saw fit. Whenever one of her teammates needed some extras, they always knew Jaime was good for it. If no one asked for the tickets, she usually gave them away as freebies to her fans.
“How many do you need?” Jaime took a pretend sip and set the glass down hard, sloshing the foam over the top.
“In total, three. No, wait, I think her nephew is old enough to come, too, so I guess that means four.”
Jaime wiped the beer from the table with one of the obnoxiously small and useless square napkins that were ubiquitous at hotel bars. The napkin was completely drenched before she had even sopped up a fraction of the spill. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
She liked having the opportunity to be generous with her friends, but there were times when it just downright sucked to be the person who never needed to use her tickets. Every
one knew her hometown was only a two-hour trip from Seattle, but her parents never made the drive down. Not that she blamed them. Not really. Some people were built for adventure, and others weren’t.
But it still sucked to be the only person who never had anyone cheering just for her in the stands.
“You can have my spares, too,” Alyssa added.
“Don’t you need to save at least one of those tickets for Kyle?” For the last few weeks, Alyssa had been walking around with a goofy smile on her face after meeting the investment banker at a local charity event they’d both attended.
“No. He broke up with me ten minutes ago. By freaking email!”
Jaime gasped in perfect sync with her teammates around the table as Alyssa dug her phone from her pocket and showed them the distasteful missive.
“What kind of man uses a point-form list in a breakup email?” Lainey asked in disbelief.
“Apparently the kind that believes that, number one, the constant road trips would not allow me to provide adequate emotional support for him, and, number two, my lifestyle is not conducive to a healthy child-rearing dynamic,” Alyssa said right before shoveling an ambitious amount of nachos into her mouth.
“Bullshit,” Jo said. “Lynn’s kids are on the road with us all the time. When little baby Nelson gets here, I plan on making the peanut our team’s new good luck charm.”
“Uh, just to be clear, have you and Kyle even talked about having babies?” Jaime asked. Alyssa was one of the women she was closest with on the team. Never once had she mentioned anything about a burning itch to procreate.
“Hell no. We haven’t even had sex yet! All I wanted was someone to snuggle up with on the couch once in a while and watch a movie.”
“Sounds like you dodged a bullet,” Lainey said.
“Lainey’s right. Welcome back to the land of singlehood. We’re very welcoming here.” Jaime raised her glass to clank with Alyssa’s.
Three guys who looked like they had been plucked straight out of a frat house approached their table at that moment. “Excuse me, ladies,” the one with a smug smile and shaggy hair that curled around his ears said. “My friends and I were hoping to buy you all a round.”
“Geez, it’s like you guys have some sort of sonar radar that activates whenever a woman mentions she’s single,” Jaime said, feeling less than charitable toward the male species at that moment. He was admittedly cute, but not in a way that sparked any kind of excitement in her.
“We’re fine, thanks,” Lainey said more graciously.
Smug guy pulled up a chair from a neighboring table and made himself at home. “Well, if you insist, I suppose we can let you buy us a round.”
Jaime rolled her eyes. “Sure thing. There’s a couple of rum and Cokes waiting for you at the pub down the street. Better hurry before the ice cubes melt.”
Smug guy and his friends laughed like she was downright hilarious. Heck, most of the time she was pretty damn funny, if she did say so herself. But her entanglement with Alex had left her raw and weary. She needed to recharge with her friends before the last game of the regular season tomorrow.
“Hey, wait a minute,” smug guy said, leaning forward and zeroing in on her. “Aren’t you the girl from that photograph? The one with the squirrel?”
“Oh yeah, that’s totally you,” his buddy chimed in. “Come clean. The whole photo is a fake, right?”
“Completely real,” Alyssa said. “I snapped the shot myself.”
“Impressive,” smug guy said, wiping the condensation on his beer bottle with his thumb. “But I bet you couldn’t do it again.”
Jaime crossed her arms and scoffed.
“Nah. Don’t believe it.”
“Ha, she could do it with her eyes closed,” Lainey said, rising to his bait. She’d never been able to ignore a challenge.
“Then let’s see it.” Smug guy braced his hands behind his head, showing off a decent set of arms. Not nearly as thick and powerful as Alex’s.
Dammit. She really didn’t want to think about Alex right now.
Screw it. She was tired of feeling weak and sore and exhausted all the time. There was nothing wrong with having a little fun once in a while.
She took a quick sip of her beer and smiled. “You’re on.”
ALEX WAS TOO ON edge to stay in his cramped, dark hotel room. He tried to tune out the image of Jaime’s shocked, angry face that looped in his mind on a constant replay by watching TV, but it was useless. He needed to do something productive to distract his mind. Maybe burn some energy at the gym.
The downside of his plan was the fact he needed to pass right by the hotel pub in order to get to the gym, knowing Jaime was in there. Probably celebrating the way she’d duped him like a fool.
Or maybe he was being too hard on her.
Shit. He raked a hand through his hair. The way she’d looked at him, touched him, tasted him—it was the most intense, real moment of his life. There was no way to fake that. Maybe he’d just acted like a huge dick and owed her a massive apology.
A loud cheer erupted from the bar as he stepped into the lobby. He poked his head around the corner to see what was causing all the commotion.
Of course Jaime was at the center of it all. She was walking along the slick, glass-littered surface of the mahogany bar. On her freaking hands. Hands that did not look very steady at all. She maneuvered around a couple of glasses and nearly lost her grip from her hand slipping out from under her like she’d been hit with a jolt of pain.
Fire pounded through his veins. He raced into the room, driven by the singular instinct of catching her before she killed herself. Her arms wobbled precariously when she reached the last few feet from the edge of the bar. Someone stepped in front of him just before she tumbled.
He shoved past the throngs of sordid onlookers in his way, but it was too late.
She’d fallen.
Right into the arms of some douchey-looking frat boy, earning her a round of applause.
“See? Told you I could do it,” she said to the guy holding her.
A knot of rage and relief twisted in Alex’s gut. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have killed yourself.”
The room fell silent.
Jaime’s smile melted away the instant her eyes met his. She hopped to her feet, extricating herself from the guy’s arms. “Yeah, well, I didn’t. Like I said, I’m invincible.” She turned back to the douche bag. “So pay up.”
“All right, all right. The next round’s on me.” The dude slapped his credit card on the bar, eliciting even more cheers.
Alex turned around and walked out of the bar, too pissed off to witness the rest of whatever craziness Jaime had in store. He’d been disrespected, lied to, and overworked for too long. He couldn’t handle any more bullshit. He pulled out his phone and opened the email draft he’d had in his inbox since the moment he’d found out Daniels had reappeared in his life.
He sucked in a breath and hit send. Carson Chester could find a new head physiotherapist for the Falcons next year, because he’d just officially resigned.
14
ALEX WOKE UP IN a bad mood again, but at least it was game day, which meant he could focus entirely on preparing the players for the match against Chicago. Game day meant he didn’t have time to think about Jaime.
He set the mini coffeemaker in his room to brew four cups of caffeinated gut-rot and ran a quick inventory of his gear while he packed his bags. His supply was running low again, but there was enough to make it through one more game. Right now, his priority was keeping the players healthy. The last game in a long road trip was ripe for injuries. Exhaustion, wear and tear, and dehydration were at an all-time high, exponentially increasing the risk of unnecessary injuries.
He’d be damned if he let that happen on his watch.
He pulled the protective paper coati
ng off the white porcelain mug and poured a cup. A knock sounded at the door right before he took his first sip.
Lainey Lukas stood at the threshold, hands balled into tight fists at her sides.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
She inhaled deeply. “I need your help. It’s Jaime. I . . . I don’t know what to do. Just come quickly.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged.
He hated the way his heart leapt to attention at the sound of her name. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know, she’s just . . . sick. She begged me not to tell anyone, but she needs help. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
His feet planted into the ground, and the muscles in his face pulled into a tight line. “It’s not my job to deal with her hangover or whatever’s bothering her.”
Lainey’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not hungover. I was with her last night. She didn’t even drink enough to get drunk.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t treat her anymore.” She’d made sure of that yesterday when she’d gone straight to Coach Labreilla and gave him a detailed play-by-play of every one of his indiscretions.
“Alex, please,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Doubt poured into him. Lainey was tough as nails. If she was worried enough to come to him begging, it had to be serious.
Shit. “Let’s go.”
He followed Lainey to her room at the far end of the hall.
Jaime lay on the far edge of the double bed near the wall, sheets and blankets tossed aside in a tangled mess. Her eyes were clenched shut, skin pale beneath her tiny tank top and shorts. He could hear her struggling to inhale and exhale from across the room, breaths coming in short, irregular bursts.
