7. Allie
Chapter seven
Allie
W hat the heck is wrong with me? I told myself I wasn’t going to get any feelings for Jake, and here I am jealous about him being a single guy on one of those $15k a month dating apps! And of course, I had to blurt it out just now, like I’m an insecure little school girl. I feel like an idiot.
I am mad at him. I never would have had sex with him had I known he was actively fielding options from super hot women who are models, influencers, and wannabe actors. I’m not that type of girl and if that’s his type, then I have no business sleeping with the guy.
I march down the hallway to the living room, hearing the voices of Coach and Dr. Jones in the kitchen. Tonight was weird. I got a call from Coach letting me know that he was planning to move in with Jake the next five days to “oversee” my work with him.
I blush at the memory of that awkward conversation. I’d been out with Kenz, so the background was loud and he made it sound like I not only should already be with Jake, but that I should not be alone with him. Something must have given Jake and me away. I don’t regret having sex with Jake, but I do regret the timing of it. We should have waited until he was healthy and the microscope from the entire team’s leadership was off of him.
Then there’s Kenz. She was about to move in with him too, just to keep me company! It’s like the whole universe is shouting out at me that I should not be alone with Jake.
I am standing alone in the living room and staring blankly out the front windows. It’s dark out so I can clearly see the outline of Jake as he walks into the room and pauses at the entryway, surveying me. I look at his reflection in the glass. I know I flip-flopped on him from hot and heavy to cold.
I turn around, prepared to apologize to him, but his face is stoic. It’s like we are strangers with the way he’s looking at me. I gulp. This feels awful. This is exactly one of the endless reasons why I should never have gotten intimate with my friend’s brother in the first place.
“Hey,” I say softly.
He scoffs—actually scoffs!—and then he turns and walks to the kitchen without a word.
“Jerk,” I mutter.
“Allie,” Coach calls out. “Let’s talk about Jake’s solitary confinement for the next five days in here.” His tone is light, but I can tell he’s still tense about me being here. Maybe it’s my guilty conscience knowing that I crossed lines with Jake that I shouldn’t have, or maybe he is just taking on the role of protective grandfather… but he definitely has his hawk eyes on me.
“Coming,” I say with as much politeness as I can muster. Never in my life have I felt so conflicted. Part of me wants to rebel and make wild love to Jake all week; my job be damned. But the other part of me—the rational part—knows that Coach being here is the perfect cover I need to backtrack from intimacy with Jake.
I walk to the kitchen, huge and open with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops, and take my place by Jones. Coach fixes his all-knowing eyes on me for a moment and then goes back to discussing anti-inflammatory foods and teas that Jake can use this week to try to fight inflammation through diet and not just the pills the doctor gave him.
“You have a jacuzzi tub outside with your pool?” Dr. Jones asks him. “The warm water and the jets will do wonders for your muscles, more than a deep tissue massage. I think if you have one, you should use it every day to keep your muscles limber. Allie here can use the massage gun on you for that same reason.”
He points out the scans of Jake’s bum shoulder, droning on about the best approach to massage the muscles around the injury. I’m standing awkwardly under the frosty energy of Jake and the watchful eye of Coach. How did life get so weird, so fast?
“Right, Allie?” Jones says.
I have no idea what he was talking about. I’m too busy moping. I clear my throat, trying to figure out where I zoned out in his monologue.
“I don’t have a jetted tub outside,” Jake says. “I have one in my master bathroom. I can use it after Allie works on me in the mornings.” His tone is clinical, but his words turn me on.
I would love to “work on him” again, specifically his thick cock. Why did I go and mess the casual sex we had up? Because you’ll lose your job if anyone finds out what you’ve done, my inner critic reminds me.
“Good idea,” Jones says. He glances at his wristwatch. “Looks like it’s getting late. I think we’re all on the same page here.”
Coach speaks up. “No, there’s one more point that Ron was very clear about. Jake needs to feel like he’s part of the team. We have a team dinner tomorrow night. And strategy meetings starting two days from now.” His eyes land on me. “You won’t be needed at those meetings so you can do what you will with your time.” He looks at Jake. “But for you, they are mandatory. We have a season opening game coming up—everyone has to be aware of the plays I’m planning on the ice. We have to watch footage of the other team and figure out how to start the season out with a series of wins, not losses.”
Jake crosses his arms, winces, and then uncrosses them. “Sure thing, Coach.”
“No distractions, Jake.” Coach’s voice is deep and almost menacing. “I’m watching you. You have one shot at this. Don’t fumble.”
Jake attempts humor by saying, “Wrong sport, Coach. But I hear you. No fumbling. Eyes on the prize.”
Jake is standing strong and tall. He’s intimidating like this and it makes me feel like I am most definitely the wrong match for a guy like him. He’s successful. He’s the star of the Eagles. And me? I’m just a girl trying to build a career.
And I’ve bungled that up already by sleeping with Jake. I narrow my eyes. No matter how attracted I am to him, I cannot let that happen again. I hang back as the men walk to the door to see Jones out. I pour myself a glass of juice and start the boring task of comparing the notes Jones made on anti-inflammatory foods with the foods Jake has in his pantry, cupboards, and refrigerator.
“Oh. You’re still up,” Jake’s deep voice sounds from the kitchen entryway minutes later.
I jump a little in place. I feel like a criminal caught red-handed with pineapple slices in a container in one hand and an orange in the other. His tall frame is leaning against the wall as he surveys me with haughty eyes. I feel like I’m his servant with the way he’s watching me. I bristle.
“Yeah. Since we’re all babysitting you, I guess the task of putting all the anti-inflammatory foods together in one place for you falls on my shoulders.” I didn’t mean to sound snippy.
“About that,” he says casually, approaching me like he’s a panther stalking his prey. He swipes the orange from my hand and starts peeling it. “I don’t need to be watched. I see what’s going on here. You’ve switched sides.” His voice is cold.
“Switched sides? We all just want what is best for you, Jake.”
“Ha! Right. And what exactly went down in that little meeting you had this morning with Ron and everyone? The one where it was decided without me that I would have you staying with me… and how did we go from just you staying here, to now you and Coach here with Jones coming and going as often as he wants to?” He slowly chews a piece of the orange. It’s so sensual that I blush pink.
“I don’t understand—” I start to say.
He closes the distance, taking my arm and pushing me against the countertop. Against my better judgment, a moan of desire slips out of me. I bite my bottom lip. He’s pushed up against me, his cock asleep in his pants but nonetheless tempting to me.
“Don’t you? Don’t you understand, Allie? From the way I see it, you and I had a moment in the PT room. Then you go running upstairs to the big boys who own the team. The next thing I know, I’m told you’re going to stay with me. And then, by some strange turn of events, Coach gets wise to what happened between us. And now he’s camped out. I may be an athlete, but I’m no dummy.”
I gasp. “You think I told Coach—that I told anyone—about what we did? Jake,” I say reproachfully, keenly aware that he’s leaning into me, his lips close to mine. But while the closeness between us in the PT room was hot and sensual, this closeness is fiery with distrust and betrayal. He looks at me like he loathes me.
“Yes,” he says simply, releasing me and stepping back as if he’s disgusted with me. “It didn’t take me long to figure it out. You snitched. And that means I certainly cannot trust you.”
My gaze falters. I’m in such shock at his words. He takes that as an admission of guilt and scoffs at me.
“You are unbelievable. Why have sex with me, then, if you’re just going to run away scared to tattle to Coach?”
I glare at him, then. “I didn’t. So if you’re claiming that he knows, then I guess that leaves just one person who told him: you.” I step toward him and jab a finger in his muscled chest.
He flicks my finger away, his touch burning my skin. We’re both so angry at each other. I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it in his body language.
I realize in that moment of clarity that between the two of us, I actually have more to lose than he does. He’s the Eagles’ star player. They will never fire him unless something really bad happens. But me? They’ll let me go at the smallest hint of a scandal. I press my lips together. Boy, oh boy—I really messed up by sleeping with Jake.
My voice is shrill. “I have a job to do, buddy. And I’ll be damned before I let you ruin this for me. I thought what we did in the PT room was hot and sexy. But I guess I was just one woman in a long line of them to you. So you know what? Let’s just forget about the sex. Let’s just focus on giving you the best chance to get on the ice and play the game.”
He opens his mouth to retort something, then closes it again. He shrugs, tossing a piece of orange into the air and then catching it in his mouth. “Well, neither Coach nor Jones said that sex was off limits, so if I won’t be having any with you—which you led me on to believe that we would have sex again—I hope you won’t mind if I invite another companion over from time to time the next few days.” He smirks at me with a wink, torturing me with how true his words are.
Then he saunters out of the room, down the hallway to his master suite, leaving me fuming at him. I want to shout at him that I never led him on, but what’s the point? He just said that to get under my skin.
I slam the fridge shut. Well, he succeeded.