Chapter 12
Sam
“I HATE HIM.” The declaration is immediate.
Allyson laughs. “You’ve got strong feelings for him, all right. But they’re not hate.”
“Shut up,” I huff.
“I think it’s romantic.” Elodie sighs for dramatic effect.
“It’s not romantic – it’s a PR nightmare in the making,” Kari says.
We’re all lounging by the covered pool at Elodie and Ansel’s house. It’s a Sunday in early November, but the sun is out, so that means it feels absolutely amazing – especially if you’re in a sweatshirt and leggings like me.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I tell Kari. “No nightmares, I promise.”
The utter disbelief on her face makes us all laugh. “I see how he looks at you, Sam. So forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
Ignoring that little tidbit of him looking at me, I close my eyes and tilt my head up to the sky, letting the sunshine soak in.
It’s been a few weeks since I argued with Colin in his office, and nothing has gotten easier.
Every time I see him, my stomach seems to claw its way up my throat while the rest of my body simmers with rage.
I want to slaughter him…and God, I want to kiss him.
It’s so bad, and I’m so confused.
“Tell them what happened when you saw him on the pitch the other day,” Elodie prompts.
I shoot her a glare. “I thought that was between the two of us.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she replies, “Absolutely not. You two are meant to be.”
“Meant to be divorced,” Kari mutters. “Assuming it even happened.”
Allyson hums thoughtfully.
I sigh. “Ollie wanted to run some stadiums, and I told him I’d do them with him. We’d hit the top of the stadium on the last round of sprints and Ollie yelled that he wanted to race me, so we did.”
“And?” Elodie prompts, barely holding back a giggle.
“And Colin rounded the corner right when I got to the bottom.”
“And?” she presses, her smile wide.
“And I ran into him,” I admit.
In all honesty, I didn’t run into him. I slammed into him so forcefully that I knocked him against the railing as his arms flew out for balance.
The whole move ended with me wrapped in his embrace, held against his rock-hard chest for one quiet moment while we caught our breaths, and my entire nervous system came alive.
He looked down at me with the sweetest surprised look on his face, and I was a millisecond away from tipping up on my toes to kiss him.
He smelled like sweat and pine, and for one idiotic lapse in judgment, I was in heaven.
The look in his eyes shifted, morphing to something heated and carnal. “Sam,” he growled, his arms flexing against me.
My entire body hummed. A cat curled in sunshine. “Colin,” I gasped.
Then my brother appeared, laughing that he’d won by default, and the moment was over. I’d stumbled out of Colin’s arms and murmured something about needing to finish up some paperwork, then flat-out fled. Kind of like Colin did out of the hotel room.
It wasn’t my finest hour.
“Did you use that time to tell him how much you hated him?” Allyson asks with a knowing grin.
“You’re the worst,” I say.
She doesn’t answer, just tips up her water bottle and takes a sip.
“That’s actually a great idea,” Kari says.
“What is? Running into your husband while racing your brother and pretending everything is totally fine when really you and your husband have the secret hots for each other?” Elodie asks.
I groan while Kari points a finger at Elodie. “No,” Kari says. “But getting some b-roll of the guys doing stadiums is.”
“Are you the one feeding the team’s social media manager all those thirst trap ideas?” Elodie asks.
Kari grins. “Maybe.”
“Then you should get them to do some quick interviews,” Elodie responds. “The American girlies will love hearing all the accents – especially Lennox.”
Kari’s jaw clenches. “Not my job,” she says.
“What’s your deal with Lennox, anyway?” I press, looking for any excuse to get the attention away from me.
“Nothing.” Her voice is clipped and brusque as patches of red flare on her cheeks. “There is no deal.”
“But you never –”
“I said there’s nothing,” Kari repeats, her tone making it clear the conversation is final.
I want to know more, but if anyone can sympathize with the desire to keep some things private, it’s me.
Besides, Kari’s leaning hard into her black cat era these days, and I’m not going to tell her to soften up just to make me more comfortable.
So I shift us to Allyson’s upcoming wedding and settle back against the chair.
A few days later, I’m with the team’s starting fullback as he grits his way through some hip strengthening exercises, his face red with the effort, when I sense him.
Colin.
My body, betrayer that it is, erupts in goose bumps even while I keep my focus on Jamie as he blows out a breath. “You’re doing great,” I coach. “Breathe through it.”
Wish I could do the same.
“Jamie,” Colin says behind me. “She putting you through your paces?”
Jamie gives him a broad grin as he lifts his massive leg sideways once more, moving the twenty-pound weight like it’s a nuisance. “Nothing I can’t handle, Coach.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’s not what you said a minute ago when you were cursing my family line.”
Jamie flushes with embarrassment. “Because you’re ruthless.”
“That’s what she’s paid to do,” Colin says.
My chest warms at the compliment. I scowl.
“You’d think she’d be a little nicer, given she’s Ollie’s sister and all.” Jamie switches to his left leg, grunting as he lifts it.
My jaw clenches. One thing I didn’t think about when I took this job was the constant ‘Ollie’s sister’ refrain that I’ve been subjected to.
It’s infuriating and more than a little demoralizing, because I’m certain the players think I only got the job because of Ollie.
It doesn’t matter that I’m perfectly capable – more than capable, in fact – because in their eyes, I’m just Ollie’s sister.
“Let me get this straight,” Colin says. “You want your PT to go easy on you so that you don’t heal properly and injure yourself the next time you take a hit on the pitch?”
“No,” Jamie mutters.
“I didn’t hear you,” Colin says.
“No, Coach,” Jamie repeats, louder this time.
“Just making sure.”
“You’re all done,” I tell Jamie, whose face falls in relief. “Same time tomorrow. And don’t make me hunt you down.” He really has another round of exercises to do, but if I have to stay here and listen to Colin belittle me in front of his player one more second, I might punch him.
He flashes me a sheepish grin as he backs away. “Yes, ma’am.”
Without turning to look at Colin, I grab the spray and set about cleaning the station.
“Sam.” Colin’s voice is soft and tender.
“What.” I wipe the machine like it’s personally wronged me.
“Sam,” he repeats, his fingers gazing my elbow.
I turn and brandish the spray bottle at him. “Touch me again, Thicke, I fucking dare you.”
“What the hell?” He holds his hands up.
I step toward him, but he doesn’t move. “What right do you have coming in here and saying things like that?”
“I was supporting you.”
“You were undermining me, you pompous prick!”
His lips quirk. “Your insults are something else, you know that?”
“Don’t do that!”
“Do what?”
“Try to throw me off by being all complimentary and shit.”
The quirk turns into a full-blown smile. “Complimentary and shit?”
“You know what I mean,” I snap.
“I don’t,” he responds. “Please, enlighten me.”
“You’re doing it again,” I accuse him.
He huffs a soft laugh. “Whatever it is I’m doing, I swear it’s not on purpose.”
“Don’t talk like that about me around your players,” I growl. “You make it look like I can’t handle things myself.”
“I wasn’t –”
“You were,” I interrupt. “Whether it was intentional or not.”
“I’m sorry.” He looks at the bottle before meeting my gaze again. “I won’t do it again, I promise. Now could you please put the cleaning spray down?”
I wave it, delighting in the flinch he makes. “Make me.”
And dammit, his eyes heat up again. “Careful, Nash, or I will.”
I brandish the bottle once more.
He moves so fast that I don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.
One moment my fingers are on the trigger of the bottle, and the next, the bottle is falling out of my grip as he hauls my back to his front.
His forearm bands across my chest as another hand lands on my hip, searing my skin with the contact.
“What the fuck?” I screech, trying and failing to dislodge his arm.
“Calm down and I’ll let you go.” His mouth is against my ear, his voice dark and rough.
I shiver. “Fuck. You.”
The laugh that issues from him is low and sexy. “I wanted to, believe me.”
A bolt of heat spears through me even as I squirm against him. “Let me go, Matthew.” I spit the name.
He grips me harder, his fingers digging into the flesh around my hip bone. “For as fit as you are, I’d have figured you could break out of this hold.” A pause. “But maybe you don’t want to.”
He’s right, and I hate him for it. I try again, but it’s a farce, and he knows it.
His lips skim the shell of my ear, and I fucking shiver again. God dammit.
Another dark laugh as his thumb dips into the band of my leggings and moves back and forth. Back and forth. “Just imagine what I could do to you, Samantha. What I wanted to do to you.”
Desire courses through me, heat gathering low and tight in my belly as all my senses focus on his thumb and the way it presses against my skin.
It would be so easy to give in. To turn into him and let his hands go where they want.
Where I want. But I can’t. Letting go and giving into this is the last thing I’ll let happen.
Inhaling deeply and ignoring that all I smell is him, I stomp on his foot. Hard.
“Ow, fuck!” He releases me with a grunt.
I whirl and punch him in the chest. Or at least, I try to. Even distracted, the arsehole still possesses mad fast reaction skills – damn ruggers – and whips an arm up to block me. I try again, this time with my left, and he stops it.
“Is this your idea of fighting?”
I swing and he blocks. Again and again, and again, and again. “Ugh, I hate you!” I snarl.
He grins even as he swats another of my attempted punches away. “Is it any wonder we got married, Sam? Look at us. Chemistry for days.”
“Fuck you,” I huff, trying again for a one-two punch. “I want a divorce.”
“Alright. Enough.” He steps forward and wraps me in a bear hug, his eyes darkening.
I’m breathing hard, my chest heaving even as his hold tightens, forcing my hands against his pecs. His gaze darts down as he wets his lips. Not that I’m looking.
“Do you remember the kiss?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
“The one in the bar, on the dance floor?” he continues. “Your hands were in the same position.”
I swallow, forcing myself not to react. That kiss has appeared more than a few times in my dreams, and only now do I know that it was real. It was…spectacular.
His voice gets even lower. “I remember it. And I remember the way you felt in my arms.”
I do, too. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it. But I stay silent, because for as amazing as that night was – what I remember of it, anyway – it doesn’t erase the fact that he was gone the next morning. He left, and he took my trust in myself with him.
“You know what else I remember?” he prompts.
I raise a solitary eyebrow.
“The way you looked when you lied and said you’d had better kisses.”
I scoff. “I wasn’t lying.”
His lips tip up. “You’re adorable when you lie.”
“You said that already.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
I can give in. The thought reappears in my consciousness like a bomb. And I can’t. I absolutely can’t.
“Let me go, Colin.”
He releases me, but not before I see the regret that passes over his face.
My gut twists. None of this feels right.
Every part of me wants to melt against him, consequences be damned.
But I step away and lift my chin. “I have paperwork to do. You can clean this up.” I gesture at the fallen towel and bottle of cleaner and do what I’ve made sure to do every time since I saw him again: be the one to leave first.