CHAPTER 5 #2
Scarlett dropped her phone on her desk immediately as Dawson entered her office, smirking. She folded her arms across her chest and titled her head.
“Texting your friend?”
Heat crept across Scarlett’s cheeks. She and Dawson had really hit it off during the women’s Sunday practice, and while Scarlett had met up with each of the women players over the course of the last week, she had come to realize that Dawson was more than a captain.
At twenty-eight, she was one of the best players in the league and had been an alternate for the Lionesses during the last World Cup.
She wasn’t like the other players, however, who didn’t think Scarlett had the ability to help them.
Dawson genuinely had faith in Scarlett and had been far more welcoming.
“No. Yes. I mean…” Scarlett said, letting out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, standing as she reached for the kit folder. She handed it to Dawson. “I need your opinion on these. Marrero wants a decision by noon.”
Dawson opened the folder and flipped through the pages as she took a seat on the small gray couch that sat against the wall in front of the desk. Her face scrunched up as she yanked out the pages that included Scarlett’s top three.
“Here,” she said, handing them to Scarlett. “Now, tell me about your texting buddy.”
Scarlett laughed. “Are these the ones you really like?”
“Sure. Now, why is it complicated between you and Mr. Texting Buddy?”
“Mr. Wrong Number.”
“Excuse me?”
“I call him Mr. Wrong Number,” she said, somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t know why.”
“That. Is. Adorable. It’s sweet.”
“It’s ridiculous, I know, but it’s easy to talk to him. And… we’re sort of toeing the line around… sexting.”
Dawson’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, that’s interesting.”
“Is it? I have no idea how to do this without sounding like an idiot.”
“It’s not that hard. All you have to do is write out what you want to do to each other. I do it all the time. Here, give me your phone. I’ll show you.”
She reached for it, but Scarlett snatched it up and pressed it against her chest. “No way.”
“Why not?”
It was ridiculous, since Scarlett had never met him, but she was somewhat protective of her rapport with him. “I want to take things slow.”
“Why? You don’t like him like him, do you?” Dawson asked, surprised. Scarlett’s silence was answer enough, and Dawson laughed. “You don’t even know who he is!”
“I know that, but I think I like the fantasy of it, that’s all.”
“I mean, if you two have chemistry, you could always meet up.”
“Oh, God no,” Scarlett said, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’m in a place to have any sort of real relationship. Believe me, texting is about all I can manage right now, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining the silliest things.”
“So, you don’t want to meet up, but you’re nervous about sexting?”
“I’m not nervous about sexting. I just don’t know how to start.”
Dawson’s mouth widened into a knowing grin. “Well, that’s easy. Tell him what you like.” Scarlett’s face burned, and Dawson laughed again. “When you’re alone, so you don’t have an audience.”
“Right.”
“But once you get the hang of it, I want to know if he’s any good at it.”
“Good at what?” Theo asked as he entered the office.
“Nothing,” Scarlett said quickly.
“Scarlett has a secret boyfriend,” Dawson said in a teasing sort of way. “Well, not so secret as he is anon—”
“Oh my God, thank you, Dawson,” Scarlett blurted, pushing the folder into her hand. “Would you mind giving those to Marrero ASAP?”
Dawson chuckled. “Sure thing,” she said, lifting the folder and patting it against Theo’s shoulder. “Bye, boss.”
Theo remained perfectly still as Dawson left the room, then he gave Scarlett a curious expression.
“A boyfriend?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’ve only been here two weeks.”
Was that judgment she heard in his voice? She glared at him. “I’m aware, thank you.”
“What was she going to say?”
Scarlett exhaled, aware that he wasn’t going to let up. “It’s actually none of your business. Listen, I would appreciate it if we could get to your questions, so if you don’t mind?”
He hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“Great. Sit, please.” He did so as she walked around to take her own seat behind her desk. “So, what are Theo Ross’s goals for the upcoming season?”
“To win.”
“Yes, that’s a given, but what else do you hope to achieve during your second year as manager? From what I understand, there were some issues last year that may have caused some friction between you and the players.”
Theo shifted in his chair, and Scarlett had to ignore the way his gray eyes glowered at her behind his glasses.
“I’m assuming Gary told you about Deago Strauss and Chard’s insistence about keeping him on the team last year?”
“I heard about it, yes. Seems rather unfair to you.”
He shrugged. “It was what it was. Strauss isn’t here this year, so hopefully we have a better chance of winning now that Chard is staying in his owner’s box where he belongs and allowing Gary and me to manage this team ourselves.
” Scarlett made a note. He leaned forward, his hands coming together as he spoke lowly.
“Tell me, where exactly did you meet your boyfriend? You’ve been in this stadium for two weeks straight, morning to night. ”
Scarlett scowled up at him from her notes. Was he keeping tabs on her? “I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s personal.”
“Aren’t you asking me about personal goals?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s call it an exchange, then. I’ll tell you my goals if you tell me a couple of things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Where’d you meet your boyfriend?”
Scarlett’s mouth quirked as she reached up and grabbed her silver charm. Moving it back and forth along the chain quickly, she exhaled.
“He’s not my boyfriend, and we met at the airport.” It wasn’t technically a lie, so she didn’t feel bad saying it.
“Is that so?”
She cleared her throat, ignoring him. “Are there any charities or foundations that you have worked with previously, or would like to work with to help expand the Bees’ social services to this community?”
“I’m a founding member of Mental Manchester, a group that supports the mental health of children, ages one to eighteen, who have experienced traumatic situations in their home life,” he said quickly, almost nonchalantly. “So, if he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”
Scarlett stared at him. Not only had he surprised her with that bit of information, but he sounded genuinely interested in Mr. Wrong Number, and for some reason she couldn’t explain, that grated on her.
“Why are you so interested in my private life?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Scarlett peered down at her notes, tapped her pen against the page, and looked up. “You know what? I think I have everything I need. You can go.”
His eyebrows lifted, as if he were surprised by her sudden dismissal, but then he stood and went to leave. He stopped and examined her, his gray eyes doing things to her pulse she didn’t comprehend.
“Have a good day, Simmons,” he said, and left.
Scarlett’s entire body trembled involuntarily afterward. God, why had that turned her on so much? Reaching for her phone, she started punching letters as fast as she could.
She was going to master the craft of sexting if it meant being near the likes of Theo for the next nine months.