Chapter 9
nine
. . .
Brinkley
He finished up his workout, and I fought the urge to stare at him as he walked my way.
He’d taken off his shirt today, and considering we’d swam together multiple times, I’d seen his chest before.
I’d stared. I’d drooled. I’d forced myself to look away.
But today, I was propped up on one of the benches, and I didn’t want to look away.
Let’s chalk it up to research.
His arms were pure muscle, his chest chiseled and cut.
But it was his abs that had my attention.
The man had at least an eight-pack. I’d been dying to count them the other day, but I didn’t allow myself that pleasure.
Today, I was going to a high school surprise birthday party with him.
The least he could do was let me peruse his perfect body.
He had a towel over his face, wiping away the sweat, and my gaze lingered on his tanned torso, moving down to a bit of dark hair that led to his happy trail.
I licked my lips as I wondered what lay beneath those gym shorts.
He’d made several references to the size of his hands and his feet, and if the myth was true, he was most definitely packing the goods.
I was in the moment just as a bulge strained against his shorts. Hell, the thing grew right before my eyes. I quickly snapped my gaze up to find him watching me.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” His voice was all tease, but it was gruffer than usual.
“I—no. I was just—” I tripped over my words. I paused to clear my throat and pull myself together. Was it hot in here? “I was thinking about the questions I was going to ask.”
“I see,” he said, running a hand over the scruff on his face. “Well, let’s get to it.”
I tried to shake off the fact that his giant schlong had just reacted to my attention.
I followed him out to the kitchen, and he pulled out a fruit platter and two bottles of water.
He had hired a woman to come here and stock his fridge and clean for him this last week, and I was definitely reaping the benefits of all the food in his house.
We sat at the kitchen table, and I pulled out my iPad that I’d brought with me these last few days so I could record and take notes at the same time. It helped me from staring at the guy the whole time, at least.
“So, I’m going to ask you the one that’s off the record first, just so you don’t try to weasel out of it by the end.”
“Fine. If it ends up outside of this room, I’ll cancel the interview indefinitely.”
“I’m a professional. You don’t need to threaten me. Have I told anyone anything thus far?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to see what Brandy knows tonight,” he said, but his smile was playful.
The man was impossible to read.
“Okay. I was weighing my choices, but I’m going to go with this one because it’s always bothered me.”
“I can’t wait to hear it,” he grumped.
“Why did you have such an over-the-top reaction when I walked into the bathroom that day?” I could still remember it so vividly.
The way he’d looked at me like I’d done something terrible to him.
He was so angry, and I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal.
I didn’t catch the guy with his pants down.
And he’d made it clear that it wouldn’t matter if I did.
He pushed to his feet and walked to the counter to tear off two paper towels for us.
We already had napkins, which sat beside our plates that were loaded up with fruit, but he was clearly thinking over his answer.
He dropped a paper towel down in front of me and then sat back down.
His green gaze locked with mine, and he just sat there for the longest moment before he finally spoke.
“A year ago, my mother started chemo. She’d been diagnosed with stage-three breast cancer.
And the day you walked into the bathroom was the day we got the results that it hadn’t spread, and the chemo had worked.
I just needed a fucking minute to process it.
I’d thought of every awful thing that she might say when she called, and when it was good news, I was relieved and emotional, and I don’t know… I guess I overreacted.”
My heart sank. I’d thought of a million reasons why he’d freaked out that day, and none had ever been anything close to this.
A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to find my words, but it took me longer than it normally did.
I wasn’t that girl. I didn’t get weepy during commercials and fall apart over relationships.
I was usually pretty rock solid. Strong. Determined.
But something about what he’d shared had me off kilter.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, shaking my head a few times in hopes of pushing away the building tears that threatened.
“My dad had cancer a few years ago. He’s okay now, but it was really scary.
It’s the reason I moved back to San Francisco after I graduated.
So, I understand all those feelings. And I should have respected your privacy. ”
“Well, don’t be nice now. That’s not how this works,” he hissed, and then we both laughed at how ridiculous he was being.
“How does this work, Captain?” I asked.
“Turn the recorder back on and ask your next question.”
I nodded and pulled myself together. I enjoyed this part of our day together because I got to ask what I wanted to ask. But working out with him showed me a different side of him. The man was committed more than anyone that I’d ever met or shadowed or written about.
He woke up every single day and put in the work.
He ate well. He didn’t drink a whole lot, and he had shared that during the season, he didn’t drink at all. He was the epitome of a superior athlete.
“Tell me how you build chemistry with your teammates,” I asked. I’d always wondered why some people just worked together and others didn’t. I’d seen some of the best QBs play with top-notch receivers, and they couldn’t put a play together. I’d never understood it.
“It’s kind of like life, you know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he thought about it.
His dark blond hair was cut perfectly on the sides and a little longer on top.
His eyes were unique in color, and I’d caught myself staring a few times when he wasn’t paying attention.
A gold rim surrounded his sage green gaze, and pops of caramel showed in the sunlight.
“Sometimes you click with people, and sometimes you don’t.
There’s no rhyme or reason most of the time.
I’ve been lucky that I’ve clicked with a lot of amazing players who show up every day and work hard.
So, we work at it, right? We keep trying until we get there.
Not everyone wants to put in the work. Not everyone needs to, I guess. ”
I nodded. “I get that. Have you always put in the work?”
It was a wasted question, but I wanted to hear what he’d say. Had this man always been this driven? This determined to be the best?
“Always.” He cleared his throat, and my gaze zoned in at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed there. “Things never came easy to me, but I was always willing to give it everything I had to get better. That shit pays off when you keep at it.”
“There are a lot of kids out there that probably like hearing that. So, you weren’t a superstar as a kid?”
“I didn’t say that.” He smirked. “But I worked at being a superstar. How about that?”
I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat again at the way he watched me.
“We’ve been so focused on your professional life, I thought we could take a minute to talk about your personal life.
Are you dating anyone? Inquiring minds want to know.
” I bit down on my bottom lip as I waited for him to answer.
I’d been dying to ask. The press made him out to be a bit of a playboy. I wondered if the rumors were true.
“Yeah? Anyone specific want to know?”
I paused the recording. “No one specific. Just answer the damn question.”
He chuckled when I hit record on my phone again, and I shot him a warning look. “I date casually. That suits me at the moment. I travel a lot, and I don’t have time for complications.”
Buzzkill.
One more question.
“Okay. Last question for today. If you weren’t a football player, what would you be doing?”
His eyes widened, and he tossed his hands up in a shrug, letting me know he didn’t like the question. “I don’t know. This is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and I’m doing it. So, I can’t imagine my life off the field just yet.”
“You don’t have any hobbies?”
He reached for my phone and turned it off. “You already got your last question. And it was a lame one. No one gives a shit what I’d do off the field. Don’t waste your questions on dumb shit.”
The freaking nerve of this guy.
“Oh, you’re telling me how to do my job now?”
“If I think I can do it better, I will,” he said, pushing to his feet and walking to the refrigerator to grab a water.
“I’ve had enough of you today.” I reached for my keys and dropped my iPad into my tote bag. “I’m going home.”
He leaned against the refrigerator and studied me. “You’re not getting out of going tonight.”
“I’m quite aware. I made a deal, and I’ll follow through. But you’re annoying me at the moment, so I’m going to take a time-out.”
“What the fuck is a time-out? Are you always such a child?” He stalked toward me, taking long strides.
I turned around and walked toward the door. I didn’t appreciate his moodiness most of the time.
“A time-out means I’m tapping out, genius. I’m fairly certain you know what it means, seeing as you were probably put in time-out often as a kid with that attitude of yours,” I hissed as I reached for the door handle.
His long fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he turned me around. “Why are you so pissed?”
“You called me dumb,” I snapped. “I don’t appreciate it. I’m doing your stupid workouts and going along with your ridiculous game of three questions a day. I don’t need to be insulted by an arrogant, pig-headed, stubborn, moody, jockboy.”
His eyes widened, and he moved closer as my back rested against the front door. His face was so close to mine I could smell the pine and sandalwood mixed with his musty sweat that someone could bottle and sell for a ridiculous amount of money. My chest was rising and falling fast now.
The man’s stank was an aphrodisiac.
“Jockboy?”
“You heard me,” I said, but my voice was all breathy and desperate. What the hell was wrong with me? His nearness had some sort of sick effect on me.
“I didn’t call you dumb. I said your question was a waste. Tell me why you asked if I was dating,” he asked, his voice gruff. I squeezed my thighs together in response.
“Because I’m a reporter,” I said, glaring at him when all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. Just one taste. “It’s my job, or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget anything, sweetheart.”
“Are you done harassing me now?” I whispered. Normally, a man calling me sweetheart would grate on my nerves, but coming from him, it was sexy. Ugh. “I need to leave before you drag me to crash a high school date tonight because you’re too much of a chickenshit to go by yourself.”
I needed out of this house. His hands were pressed against the door on each side of my face, caging me in now. And I liked it.
That had all sorts of warning bells going off.
I was not going to fall for the guy I was working with.
The man who’d just admitted he didn’t date.
What did that even mean?
He just graced endless women with his giant package. Rocked their world and gave them all the orgasms before kicking their ass to the curb.
It didn’t sound horrible at the moment.
With his muscled chest right in front of me.
He smiled. “I’ll pick you up in an hour. Be ready.”
“Can you back your big ole body up and give a girl some room?”
He nodded, his heated gaze locking with mine before he stepped back and reached behind me to pull open the doorknob. His arm grazed the small of my back, and goose bumps ran down my arms.
“See you later, Captain,” I said, trying to keep my voice even when I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
From what? Fighting with this jackass? That was my weakness?
He didn’t respond, and I turned around when I slipped into my car. He was still watching me.
With an evil smile on his face.
He knew he was getting under my skin, and he enjoyed it.
The bastard.