Chapter 11
Colin
THE MORNING FINDS me bleary-eyed and far from bushy-tailed. I’m only one cup of coffee into humanity, but a second dose is in the travel mug gripped tightly in my hand as I make my way to my car. The second I start the engine, a giant splat of bird shit hits the windshield.
I slump forward and let my head hit the steering wheel, needing its solidity to remind me that at least something is willing to support me. Inanimate or not. “I get it,” I mutter to the universe again. “I know. I know.”
Half an hour later, with a clean windshield and more than a little anxiety about walking from the car to the office, I’m welcoming Ryan and Elliott to their first day on the job. A bit later, Ansel Miles joins us for a dive into strategy.
“I asked them to watch the exhibition game you led,” I say as we kick the meeting off. “Was that really the only game you’ve ever coached?”
Ansel lifts his brows. “And the last for the foreseeable future,” he declares.
Elliott leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “You’re staying on as captain?”
“If the offer is there, then yes,” Ansel answers, looking at me.
“It’s there,” I confirm. “This is a critical year. The team needs your leadership. It shows them that we’re not changing everything.”
“Just most things,” Ryan jokes.
Ansel leans back in his chair. “What kind of changes? Because I have some ideas.”
I click the pen I hold in my hand. “Let’s hear them.”
We spend the rest of the day meeting with the players one on one.
The next day, we run the team through our first practice.
It’s easy to see how they made it to the championship game, and already my mind fills with new plays and techniques to work on.
I see the places where the backs need to work harder and the weaknesses to address in our forwards, and for the first time in my career, it’s me making the final decisions.
It’s invigorating to be outside, the smell of the pitch in the fall Atlanta air reminding me that despite the epically huge mistake I made in Vegas, I’m still capable of making the right choices.
The rest of the week is blissfully normal, and Sam is nowhere to be seen.
I expect to see her around every corner I turn, for my stomach to fall completely out of my body at the sight of her.
The place isn’t that big, and her offices are right beside the workout facilities.
But by some miracle, we manage to not run into each other.
Friday is an off day for the athletes, so after meeting with the coaches, I make my peace with the possibility of seeing Sam in favor of trying my luck with the weight machines.
They’re relatively new, but already have that scent of metal mixed with sweat.
Still, they’re far better than anything I’ve had before, and that’s thanks to some incredible sponsorships our marketing team has managed to pull together.
It’s clear our marketing staff is determined to get as much of the professional sports teams benefits that Atlanta has to offer.
I’m at the leg press twenty minutes later, muscles twitching and ready to be done, when I hear her. Her accent isn’t as pronounced as you’d think here in the south, but accent or no, I’d recognize that sexy rasp anywhere. It’s one of the many reasons I lost my damn mind that night.
“Oh, come on,” she says, clearly cajoling someone, “you’re not even trying.”
“I’m telling you, that machine is the devil!”
I’m already up and wiping my face with the towel as they round the corner.
Her attention is focused on none other than Carter Green, our peacocking winger and, if the sports press is to be believed, the team’s number one playboy.
She’s wearing yoga pants and a fitted top in the team colors, her blond hair up in a high ponytail.
He leans toward her, far too close for my liking, with a flirtatious smile on his lips as she looks up at him, every bit of her body language telling me she likes what he’s doing.
Immediately, my palms begin to itch as my chest flushes with heat. I pivot to leave, needing to get as far away from whatever they’re doing as possible.
“Hey, Coach!”
No such luck. I mentally curse, then exhale and turn to fully face them, unable to smile but hoping I at least have a normal look on my face. “Carter.”
“You’ve met Sam, right? One of our physical therapists?” he prompts.
Really, asshole? I want to throttle him. Does he actually think I wouldn’t have made it my business to meet every single person on the Granite team by now? Congratulations to me for not giving him fifty stadiums just for the crime of being oblivious.
“We’ve met,” Sam bites out, her jaw clenched, blue eyes blazing, ponytail practically vibrating with the tension she’s carrying. She absolutely wants to bludgeon me. Even angry, she’s fucking flawless. What I’d give to sink to my knees and worship every inch of her.
It’s never going to happen.
Carter bulldozes on, oblivious. “You’re cool with Coach, right? Or is it Coach Thicke? Just T? Coach T?”
“Coach is fine,” I say, desperate to shut him up.
“You know she’s Ollie’s sister, yeah?” Carter continues.
Sam stiffens. I shouldn’t notice it so readily, but apparently if Sam’s involved, I notice everything. Like the freckle on her collarbone. The one I sucked on as she writhed beneath me.
“I know.” My gaze rests on her as I answer, drawn like a magnet.
Looking at Sam is as natural as breathing.
The instant she’s near me, I’m powerless to do anything but stare.
Maybe that’s why it feels like I know her more than I should.
Because I am absolutely certain she hates being thought of as Ollie’s sister. She’s so much more than that.
And if the team knew she was my wife? What then?
Carter’s eyes are on her, too. They’re hungry, the emotion plain to see, and I can only imagine what the three of us would look like if anyone walked in. “I think the better way to put it is that Ollie is her brother.”
Carter rips his attention from Sam with a placid smile. “Cool, cool,” he says, then immediately shifts back to the infuriated vision beside him. “So anyway, Sam, I swear this machine –”
“Shoot,” Sam interrupts, pointedly looking at her watch, “I forgot that I have another appointment.”
“Oh, with River? Don’t worry about him – he’s a baby. Whines about everything.” He leans forward and winks. “He can wait a few minutes.”
Sam narrows her gaze at him. “I need to go.” Without missing a beat, she swivels on her heel, brushing past me with a none-too-subtle shoulder check.
“Whoa,” Carter chuckles. “Easy there.”
Pretty sure the only person who’s supposed to hear Sam’s answering growl is me.
Clearing my throat, I give Carter a nod, hoping he takes it as the dismissal I intend it to be, and turn to follow Sam. My pride won’t let me chase her, but damn if I don’t move a little faster once I’m out of Carter’s view.
“Sam.”
She doesn’t stop.
“Sam.”
Her shoulders tense as she speeds up.
“Sam, for fuck’s sake –”
She whirls on me. “Don’t you ‘Sam’ me, Colin,” she seethes, ice-blue eyes flashing with ire. “We have nothing to talk about.”
I lower my voice, hoping she takes the hint. “Will you please come to my office?”
“For what? Do you have divorce papers in there?”
Christ, this woman. “No, I don’t.”
“Then please explain to me why I want to talk to you.”
I huff a laugh. “Because we can’t be like this.”
Color flames her cheeks. “Says who? You? And I’m supposed to listen to you? Because the last time I did that, we got married, you cowardly asshole.”
I clench my jaw and absorb the blow because I fucking deserve it, then press my palms together and raise them as I breathe. “Please.”
Sam studies me, biting her lip as she considers. Eventually, she exhales an irritated, “Fine.”
The only sound in the stairwell is the scuff of our sneakers as we climb to the top floor, and I brace myself for the lashing I know she’s about to serve. The carpeted hallway leading to my office feels endless, and it’s a relief to stop outside the threshold and wave her to go in ahead of me.
She sashays past, ponytail bouncing, her woodsy scent enveloping me and slamming me right back into that night on the Strip.
My eyes stray down her body, feasting on the skin that peeks between multiple thin straps crisscrossing her back beneath a loose, low-cut top.
It’s skin I never quite got my mouth on.
She walks with the same confidence that lured me in that night, her steps never faltering as she moves straight to the windows overlooking the pitch.
Fuck.
She’s stunning. How am I supposed to function when I’m alone with the woman of my dreams?
My dumb ass managed to marry her, but all I’ve done is piss her off at every turn.
I shove a hand into my right pocket, needing the comfort of the quarter as I draw near.
Now that I’m beside her, I can feel how pissed she is at me.
I’ve always prided myself on being able to elicit strong emotions in my players – the need to play their absolute best, to leave everything on the field and to give their all, every time, without fail – but I’ve never felt this.
The thing is, I’m just as affected. I was hoping the picnic was a onetime thing, that I wouldn’t continue to have the same visceral reaction to her as I did in Vegas.
But I was a fool. This woman is…she makes me feel out of control.
The very thing I can’t have. All I want to do is touch her and beg her for forgiveness.
Hear her beg me for something else entirely.
This is dangerous. She is dangerous.
I clear my throat and force myself to relax, reminding myself that Sam could ruin my career in seconds if she wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” I begin.
She snaps her gaze to mine, pure ice blazing in those gorgeous eyes. “You’ve said that before.”
“It remains true.”
She doesn’t blink. “Where did the ring come from?”
I still, the image of a gold necklace with a sea turtle charm flaring in my head. Then I realize what she actually said. Not the necklace. “The ring?”
“Yes, Colin, the ring. Or do you not remember that, either?” The second the words leave her mouth, she curses.
“I remember the ring. Both of them.”
Guilt stabs at my conscience as Sam’s gaze darts to my left hand, but it’s bare.
The gold band is in the same place as the necklace, tucked into the back of my sock drawer where it can’t glare at me every day.
One of the Elvis impersonators was a jewelry maker, naturally, and he had some relatively inexpensive rings.
Our bands are only gold-plated, and Sam’s sports a lab-grown diamond with Swarovski crystals. I bought them without hesitation.
I can’t shake the memory of it. The trust we put in each other. The look of utter and complete happiness that shone in her eyes as I slid the ring home. A look I didn’t deserve then, and I sure as fuck don’t deserve now.
True to form, she scoffs. “Let me guess: you threw it out the window as you fled, hoping to get rid of the evidence. Tell me, Colin, do you make it a habit of marrying women while you’re on vacation? Or were you there for business?”
“I was there to relax,” I retort, unable to keep from rising to her endless baiting.
I want to kiss the ire right off her face, to pull her body flush with mine and shut her up with everything I have.
I know that ship sailed the minute I fled, but I can’t stop wanting it.
Wanting her. “I can’t change what we did –”
“Believe me, I’m aware,” she snaps. “And I regret it every day.”
I school my face to keep my expression neutral, forcing myself not to react to the words. “But now we work together.”
“For the same team,” she corrects. “We don’t work together, Colin. We work for the same team.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not. We may be in the same building, working for the same team, but that doesn’t mean we work together. I can ignore you all I want.”
“I’m your boss. You don’t get to ignore me.”
Absolute fury falls over her face. “My boss? You think you’re my boss now?”
My patience fraying, I close the distance between us in a heartbeat. I clench my hands and lower my voice. “Do you always have to argue with me, Sam? The sky is blue. Do you want to tell me I’m wrong about that, too?”
She angles into me, her chin tipped up, her gorgeous eyes flashing with unrestrained fury. “It’s cerulean.”
I get even closer, moving in until only an inch separates us and not missing the way her pupils flare with heat. We don’t move. We don’t speak. For a few precious moments, all we do is stare at each other. Taking each other’s measure.
“Colin –”
I reach out, splaying my palm across her hip. The move nearly buckles my knees, and I’m barely touching her.
“Coach, I need a word.” Ryan raps on the door as he pokes his head in.
Sam and I move in perfect harmony as she takes a step back and pulls my wrist into her hands. “Can you twist it to the right?”
I meet her gaze. Is she serious right now?
She raises her eyebrows. She’s serious.
“Oh, sorry,” Ryan stammers. “I should have –”
“You’re good, Ryan,” I assure him, then cut back to Sam. “Yeah, I can. Not really sure what I did.”
She shrugs. “Sometimes the body does weird things.”
It sure as fuck does.
“I’ll come back,” Ryan says, nodding at Sam. “Sam. Good to see you.” He backs out and shuts the door.
Sam drops my wrist like it’s on fire.
I speak quickly, knowing I should find Ryan to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. “We need to figure out a way to work together, Sam. For your brother’s sake.”
She takes another step away from me and sighs. “I know.”
“So can we at least agree not to shoot virtual daggers at each other?”
“I wasn’t doing that,” she counters.
I chuckle. “Okay, Sam. The sky is cerulean and you don’t look at me like you want to kill me every time you see me.”
“I don’t!”
“You’re adorable when you lie.” The words come out so easily that it takes a moment to realize what I’ve just said.
Sam blinks at me, rendered silent for one blissful pause.
I shove my hand through my hair, pushing it off my forehead. “I know we can’t be…friends…but can we at least be civil to each other?”
She straightens and clenches her jaw, walking to the door and grabbing the knob before turning those flawless blues on me once again. “Sure. Once you get me those annulment papers, we’ll be right as rain. Or divorce papers. Either way. Until then, stay away from me.”