CHAPTER 9 #2
Twenty-two shirtless, shining male bodies were glistening beneath the LED lights. Deciding that this was the perfect time to ask about the women’s practices, Scarlett walked into the room.
She tried to ignore the curious looks and head dips directed at her as she entered.
She wanted to find Theo and make her argument for a few day practices for the women’s team before the workday was done, as she had finally promised to go out with Maxie and her friends for dinner and had to get home early.
Seeing Gary in the corner of the room with an open folder in his hands, Scarlett headed in his direction and smiled.
“There you are, Simmons. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. I’m looking for Theo.”
“Good thing you are.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, he was in a bit of a mood this morning.”
She tilted her head to the side. “Oh no. I was hoping to catch him in, well, not a mood. What’s it about?”
Gary blinked. “Oh, nothing, I suppose.”
“No, tell me.”
“It’s nothing really. It’s just… something me and the lads have noticed. You know, when you’re not around.”
“Oi, how is she supposed to know about it when it only happens if she’s not around?” called out one of the players, causing her to spin around. There, on a rowing machine, was Miles, smirking up at her.
“Know what?”
Miles opened his mouth, but a familiar masculine voice spoke behind her.
“Is there something I can do for you, Simmons?” Theo asked as she whipped around. Where had he come from? No doubt lurking behind a Stairmaster or something. “Or are you trying to distract the team from their workouts?”
He made a tsking sound before walking away, weaving in between the gym equipment.
“I’m not distracting anyone,” she said as she followed. “I came to ask you a favor, actually.”
“What sort of favor?”
“Well, a small one, really,” she said, ignoring the knowing grins the team was giving her.
Frank Templeton elbowed Aban, who covered his mouth to hide a chuckle as they passed by.
Scarlett was so distracted, she nearly bumped into Theo when he stopped by the water station. “What is everyone looking at?”
Theo glanced over her head, but almost instantly, every player was focused elsewhere. In fact, they were peering in nearly every direction except Scarlett and Theo’s. It was bizarre.
“Apparently they’ve not had a decent workout,” Theo said loudly, his tone annoyed, “which means we’ll be finishing the day with sprints!”
A collective groan echoed throughout the room.
“But it’s raining!”
“We’ve been at it for hours!”
“Aye, you have, and you’ve been half-arsing it as well,” Theo shouted. “Now I want all of you up on that pitch, a hundred sprints—”
“Ahh!”
“Come on!”
“Keep complaining, boyos—we can easily make it two hundred!”
The groans and arguments settled after that threat, but Scarlett was puzzled when she heard Stanley Weeks say, “So much for putting him in a good mood.”
Why would they think that she put Theo in a good mood? He was always aggravated when she was nearby, and the only time he had even been cordial to her was during their flight together. Still, as the team filtered out of the gym, she followed Theo, who had apparently decided to ditch her.
“Hey,” she said, moving through the pack of players. “Excuse me. Sorry. Ross?”
“What?” he replied, not stopping.
“I wanted to ask you about the possibility of moving two of your day practices to the evening.”
He glanced down at her. “What?”
“Twice a week, if that’s possible—”
“It’s not.”
Scarlett frowned as she followed him down the hallway and into the players’ tunnel, which led out onto the pitch.
Theo walked out without hesitation, as did the rest of the team.
The rain had been downgraded from a torrential downpour to a light shower, but it was still going to ruin Scarlett’s hair, which she had paid special attention to that morning, knowing she was going to go straight from work to dinner.
But she had to get the women’s team some day practices. She’d promised them that she would at least try.
So, taking a deep breath, she walked out into the rain and headed straight to Theo.
With his arms folded across his chest, he did a double take when he saw her marching toward him.
The same hint of a grin she had seen that day at the airport caught the corner of his mouth, and she had to force herself not to feel a certain way about it.
“Was there something else, Simmons?”
“I need two morning practices on this pitch.”
“For what?”
“For the women’s team.”
He had the audacity to scoff. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because my team needs to practice.”
“Your players don’t have second jobs to get to, while half the women’s team does. They need a staggered practice schedule.”
“No.”
Ugh! The finality of this man’s answer clawed at her nerves. Who the hell did he think he was? Just because he was the manager, it didn’t make him the end-all be-all. No, she needed to take this to someone else.
“Fine. Then I’ll talk to Chard.”
“Ha!” Theo barked as the rain continued to come down. “You think Chard gives a damn about the women’s team practice schedule?” He shook his head. “He only hired Marrero and added a women’s team as a gimmick.”
“They’re doing better than you,” she countered, pleased to see the sneer drop from his face. “And they deserve an equal amount of practice time.”
He turned on her, crowding her personal space, but she wouldn’t cower.
“You aren’t going to change my mind.”
Though his tone had softened, Scarlett couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t the owner of the Manchester Bees, and she certainly wasn’t going to allow him to dictate terms for a team that was doing better than his.
And then an idea popped in her head.
“I’ll play you for it.”
He stared at her dubiously and then blinked. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll play you for it. Two morning practices.”
He laughed, scanning over his players as they ran their drill. “Play me. No way.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Listen, I’m sure you were a good player—”
“I was a brilliant player, actually.”
“Be that as it may, I’m not playing you for field time.”
“Because you’re afraid?”
“I’m not going to be baited by you.”
“I’m not baiting you. I’m simply stating a fact,” she said, the adrenaline of her competitive nature coursing through her veins. God, how she’d missed it. “You’re, what? Eight years older than me? Ancient, really, in football years.”
“I’m barely five years older than you, according to the Women’s World Cup roster,” he corrected her.
Well, that was a surprise to Scarlett, whose mouth fell open after a moment’s pause. “You looked me up?” she asked, slightly dazed.
“You’re not the only one who has access to the internet, you know. And I can’t spare any field time. It just isn’t going to work.”
But it needed to work. Marrero and Dawson were counting on her, and if the women’s team was going to have a proper shot at a winning season, they needed a better practice schedule, one that worked for everyone, which was why Scarlett decided to hit below the belt.
“How many times did the Lions call you up?”
England’s national team had never invited Theo Ross onto their roster, a fact that Scarlett was well aware of. It wasn’t nice to point out, but she didn’t care.
He glared down at her, the muscle of his cheekbone twitching. But he didn’t answer.
“Play me, one on one.” She watched him, waiting for a response. Still, he remained silent. “Unless you’d like to give me those two practice days now?”
“You think because you played twenty-eight minutes for the U.S. women’s team in the World Cup that you’ll be able to beat me?”
“It’s more time than you’ve played in any World Cup, so yeah, I do.
And I’m willing to try it, if it means those women can get two day practices,” she said.
“I don’t doubt you’re a great player. I’m not arguing that.
I’m asking that you give me a shot, however astronomically unlikely it may be, to play you for them. ”
His eyes flashed with understanding, and for a moment, Scarlett was sure that he sympathized—not as a player, but as someone who wanted what was best for his team.
However, the next moment, he was shaking his head.
“I don’t think it would be worth it.” Her heart sank at little. “But if you insist.”
Smiling wide, she jumped. “Are you serious?” she asked, grabbing his arm.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Great! That’s great. Stay here,” she said, letting go. “I’ll go get a pair of cleats.”
“You want to do this now?” he called after her as she left the field. “In the rain?”
“What are you, made of sugar?” she called back. “Give me ten minutes!”