Chapter 12 Chelsea
Chelsea
“CATASTROPHE AVERTED. AT least, for now.”
I’m giving this update to Daisy in a far corner of the designated “phone zone”—a pleasant courtyard patio area outside the main building of the training complex.
A whole lot of us, including Luca, beelined over here to use our phones before the upcoming all-team session in the auditorium, and now we’re all scattered around on our respective calls.
Daisy leans into her camera, like she’s leaning into my ear, and whispers, “Do you think he might blab to another player about what you two did in college?”
I’ve got my earbuds in and my eyes trained firmly on Luca on his own FaceTime call across the courtyard, so there’s no danger of him or anyone else overhearing my conversation with my longtime best friend.
“No, I’m sure he realizes telling anyone what we did back then risks it getting back to my father,” I whisper.
“Plus, I can tell he’s really started to respect my coaching abilities, so I can’t imagine he’d undermine me by blabbing about that stuff. ”
Across from me, Luca is gesticulating wildly with his free hand and laughing heartily.
“He realizes this is probably his last shot at making a team,” I add. “He won’t screw that up.”
“Poor guy.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for the cocky bastard. He’s a Maguire. He’ll be fine, no matter what.”
“Uh-oh, Chelsea. He’s a cocky bastard? You’ve always had a major weakness for those.”
“No, I like confidence. And even then, only when it’s well earned. It’s still not clear if that’s the case with this one.”
Daisy snickers. “What’s the status on all that physical chemistry you two had? Is it still there or nah?”
Oh, how I wish I could answer “Nah.” But that wouldn’t be true.
“It’s still there, simmering just below the surface.
” The minute the words leave my mouth, I realize they’re a lie.
That in fact, when it comes to Luca and me, our physical attraction is above the surface and one bubble shy of a rolling boil.
“Uh-oh again, Chelsea.”
“Would you stop saying that? I’m a professional, and so is he, so we’ve already agreed to ignore our mutual attraction.”
“Wait, you’ve both acknowledged it exists?”
I think about that for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’s a fair statement.”
“How mature of you both.” Daisy snickers. “Does Mr. Maturity still have those swoony dimples?”
My heart skips a beat as my brain supplies the image of Luca flashing his dimples at me over breakfast this morning. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“And what about his body? Still hot as hell?”
I glance at Luca’s muscular, mouthwatering ass across the courtyard. “He’s even hotter than before, if you can believe it.”
“Oh boy. Sorry to inform you, babe, but a filthy, football-obsessed slut like you won’t be able to resist getting herself secretly fucked by a man like that for long.”
“Oh my God, Daisy.” I turn my back to whisper to her, even though nobody’s looking at me and my earbuds are in.
“There are hot bodies all over the damned place here. This is the NFL, remember? They’re a dime a dozen, baby.
I’ll be fine.” Lies, lies, lies! I’ve never in my life seen a hotter body than Luca’s.
He’s sheer perfection, at least by my standards.
Daisy cackles like she knows I’m full of crap.
“I’ve gotta go to the next thing now,” I mutter. “Bye for now.”
“Keep me posted, you horny whore!”
Blushing, I disconnect the call, pull out my earbuds, and march toward Luca across the courtyard. We’re not late for the all-team meeting just yet, but if that man remains on his call much longer, we will be.
As I approach, I make out a singular, smiling face on Luca’s screen—one that instantly stops my heart. Satan. That’s who Luca’s chatting with on FaceTime, the person he’s currently laughing up a storm with.
“Maverick’s been keeping Iris and me in stiches,” Roman Maguire is saying as I get within earshot. “I can’t believe how much fun it is having him with me for weeks at a time. I wish I’d done this so much sooner, man.”
I stop a few feet away, realizing the call seems kind of personal and intimate.
Shoot. Luca needs to end it now so he’ll have time to put his phone away and get his ass to the auditorium.
And yet, I can’t force myself to intrude: It’s too oddly mesmerizing to see such a famous face in such a casual, real-life setting, even if it’s one I’ve been programmed to despise from the depths of my soul.
“Speaking of Iris,” Luca says. “How’s she settling in with you and Maverick at the new house?”
“She loves it. I mean, it’s an adjustment, for sure.
But she’s thankfully got good friends from college in LA, so that helps.
And, of course, Mav and Iris love each other to pieces.
” Satan flashes a megawatt smile at that last bit, and against all odds, the sheer joy on his face makes my heart soften toward him—if only the tiniest bit.
I glance at my watch, a bit anxious about our looming deadline. Considering the time, Luca will surely wrap things up and end the call now, right? Nope.
On the contrary, he suddenly launches into a whole new topic of conversation. “Thanks again for pulling strings with the Thunderbolts for me,” Luca says. “I hope you understand why I said no.”
I’m floored. Luca had the chance to jump ship for the Thunderbolts’ training camp and he turned it down? Well, damn. That puts even more pressure on me to help him make a good impression here with the Mastodons.
“I respect the hell out of you for saying no,” Satan says. “If you’d said yes, I would have been thrilled to have you here with me, but the most important thing is doing what’s right for you, Lukie.”
Lukie? Aw, that’s so cute.
“Thanks for always having my back, Romie.”
Romie and Lukie? Seriously now, who knew the Prince of Darkness and his younger brother were so adorable together?
Shit. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be swooning at this display of sweet brotherly love.
I should be imagining Satan sitting on his throne of brimstone and fire while lording over the worst demons in hell, not feeling impressed he pulled strings to help his beleaguered little brother in his time of need.
“So, have you spoken to Levi and Marco about their camps yet?” Luca asks, pissing me off by launching into yet another new topic of conversation. Seriously? Doesn’t he realize it’s time to go?
Roman starts answering the question, but I can’t take it anymore.
After marching over to Luca’s broad shoulder, I tap on it furiously and bark out, “Time to go to the all-team, Maguire.”
“Is that Chelsea?” Satan asks, and my heart explodes at the sound of my name coming out of his world-famous mouth.
I’ve met lots of football players in my life, thanks to my father and brothers.
Some of them extremely high-profile. But never have I met anyone as famous—and, yes, handsome—as the man on Luca’s phone screen right now.
“The one and only,” Luca replies proudly. “Say hi to Satan, Chelsea.” He snickers. “That’s what she calls you, Roman.”
“Love it. Thanks.”
What’s happening? Luca’s told his brother about me? What did he say?
“Whip Luca into shape for our whole family, Chelsea,” Roman says playfully. “God knows we haven’t been able to do it ourselves.”
My stomach tightens as I realize I’m smiling involuntarily at Roman Maguire.
“I’ll do my best,” I choke out. “But he’s awfully stubborn.”
“As stubborn as they come,” Roman agrees.
“Ha!” Luca booms. “If you two want to see stubborn, just look in the mirror at yourselves.”
“Guilty as charged,” Roman says. “How about you, Chelsea?”
What the fuck is happening? I came over here to drag Luca away, and now I’m amiably chatting with my hometown’s nemesis and joking about our mutual stubbornness? My brothers would literally murder me if they knew.
“Yeah, guilty as charged, too,” I manage to say. “Listen, Satan. Your brother’s got to hang up now. Surprise, surprise, he’s running late for an all-team session with the big guy.”
Roman scoffs. “Good luck getting that guy anywhere on time, Chelsea. Luca’s always late for everything. Even when he was born, he came out bizarrely later than his twin brother. Turns out, he was just hanging out in our mother’s womb, taking a Zen little snooze.”
For some reason, my brain hurtles back to Bloomington.
Specifically, to Luca standing in that hotel lobby with a bag full of melted ice cream.
Based on the state of those two soupy pints, he wasn’t late for our date back then.
In fact, I’d guess he was more than a little bit early.
Why does it give me a shiver of delight to find out that wasn’t standard practice for him?
“Thanks for the intel,” I reply smoothly.
“I’ll keep that in mind going forward.” When Roman smiles at me in response, a wave of acute guilt washes over me.
One that prompts me to quickly add, “Hey, Number Ten, I feel like I’d be betraying my people if I didn’t say something to you, now that I’ve got the chance: ‘Fuck you, Roman Maguire.’ I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from. ”
Roman hoots and guffaws. “Of course I do. I’d say the same thing to me in your shoes.” He cackles heartily again, which kind of embarrasses me, actually, since it only proves what Luca said earlier: The winner in a rivalry isn’t nearly as gassed up about it as the loser. Damn.
“Bye, Chelsea,” Roman finally says after composing himself. “You’re everything Luca described and more. Love you, Lukie. Bust your ass, kid. Show ’em what you’re made of and make the family—and yourself—proud.”