Chapter 14 #2
By my estimate, about half the NFL had blacklisted me.
I had no idea whether anyone else in the league would ever take a chance on me again no matter what I did now.
Punching a coach in the face had that kind of chilling effect on management.
The lines had been drawn and I was on the wrong side.
Not seeing Cat anywhere, I made my way to the main lobby of the hotel.
I owed Coach Marini everything right now.
My gut clenched as I pushed through the glass doors of the main lobby and breathed in the city air.
With no idea what I was looking for, no idea where I was going, I slipped out my phone and texted Wyatt that I’d find my own way home.
Dressed in my rented tux, I had no problem flagging down a taxi.
I got in the back seat and met the cabbie’s eyes in the mirror. Instant recognition flashed in his eyes. Shit.
“Where to, Mr. Quintanna?”
I gave him the address, thankful that his tone was respectful. Then I sat back and stared out the window at nothing.
“Great game last week. That was one sweet touchdown catch and run. You’re a fast son of a bitch. Coach Marini seems to think the world of you. I saw a picture on Instagram of you out to dinner with him.”
I nodded at the mirror, acknowledging his praise and hoping to hell he didn’t ask any questions. Flattery was one thing, getting nosy was another. A few blocks and red lights later and the cabbie cleared his throat.
I looked in the rearview, meeting his eyes. Here it comes.
“Did you really punch that coach in the face?”
The cabbie didn’t sound judgmental about it, more like impressed.
“Yes, I did.”
“I bet he deserved it, right? I wish I could punch my boss in the nose some times.”
I smiled in the mirror and nodded in acknowledgment.
At least someone gave me the benefit of the doubt.
It was funny how not many people asked what Nutter had done for me to punch him in the mouth.
In fairness, it was probably because I’d refused to say.
The big secret. From there, people found it easy to assume the worst.
Except my taxi driver.
When I got back to Wyatt’s place—I couldn’t think of it as home—I went straight up to the third floor to my room and called Cat. I needed to find out what she knew, what the hell else she’d found about my business.
She answered breathless.
“I just got in. I left early,” she said.
There was a pause and it sounded like she was taking off a coat.
I’d left my coat behind for Wyatt to take care of, but he hadn’t shown up yet.
Not that he had a curfew. It was only a little past midnight.
I knew enough about him—not that I knew him well yet—to guess he was stopping at some all-night dive called Kelly’s Roast Beef on Revere beach for fried clams. He’d been there twice since I’d moved in and extolled the virtues of the place at the end of a night out, especially in the summer.
“Everything okay?” Cat’s voice was sure and businesslike.
“Are you kidding me? You drop that bomb on me about being a rescuer of women like you know things you shouldn’t know and you’re asking me if—”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“Shouldn’t have what, Cat? Shouldn’t have nosed into my business? How did you find out and what exactly do you know?”
I heard her take in a breath and then she told me. Everything.
“A sorority sister spy network?” I wanted to laugh, dismiss it as ridiculous, except it wasn’t. Because she’d found out my secret, every last bit of it, when no one else had. Danielle had confessed to one of her friends, no doubt in strict confidence. Ha.
“You could call it that. I call it the antidote to the old boys’ network.”
“Touché.” My heart rate was settling down now that I knew the worst. Knew there was no threat of a leak, no potential repercussions.
The pact I had with Nutter was that if I kept my mouth shut, Danielle’s job was safe.
And criminal charges wouldn’t be pressed against me.
He’d convinced Danielle that we’d never be able to prove what happened even though there were two of us to controvert his story.
I knew he was wrong. His story was that he’d found me arguing with Danielle and when he butted in I punched him.
No one in management believed it, but they wanted to avoid a scandal.
I had a lawyer from the Players Association repping me.
Poor bastard. I wouldn’t even tell him what really happened though, to his credit, he knew it didn’t go down the way Nutter had said.
Everyone knew Danielle was involved, but she refused to say a damn word to anyone about anything.
It had been up to me to defend her job, make sure they didn’t fire her.
What a damn shit-show. I wanted—no needed—to put it all out of my mind now.
“Are you angry?” Cat’s voice floated to me like a sexy wave, spiking desire through my gut.
“Hunter, tell me you’re not angry,” she continued. The soft sexy plea rolled on top of the spike, building up the heat, the tension in me.
“I’m not angry.” My voice was raspy. I closed my eyes, held the phone tight. Don’t do it. Don’t let yourself slide into the seduction.
“I couldn’t stand it if you were.” She paused.
I heard her breathing. Pictured her in that dress she wore tonight.
Pictured her sliding it down, off her shoulders, past her breasts, exposing her nipples.
I’d seen enough of her to be able to imagine the rosy buds and I squeezed the phone tighter as my cock stiffened.
“Thank you for calling me,” she said. “Are you in bed?” The last words were barely audible. But I heard the desire in them, knew where she was, knew I needed to hear her admit it. Couldn’t stand it if I was the only one tormented.
“And if I was in bed, what would you do about it?”
She let the question linger a few beats too long so that I knew no matter what she said, I knew what she was thinking, what she was imagining. I lowered my left hand along my belly, feeling the heat of my own skin, took a long, shattered breath. What the hell are you doing, Hunter?
“I would ask if you were . . . naked.” Her words were hesitant, but not shy. I heard the shallow breathing, I felt her hands on me, knew the way her fingers would feel wrapped around my cock.
“Damn you.”
She choked a laugh. “Too late for that. I’ve been damned to hell for wanting you a long time ago.” She shuddered.
“What are you doing, Cat?” There was menace in my voice, iron in my will, holding back even as I listened to her, imagined her stroking herself, imagined the slick feel of her . . .
“Damn you,” I said as I grabbed hold of my twitching cock and squeezed, moved up and down, trying to satisfy the tortured need as I concentrated on Cat, the sounds she was making, the words she was saying—
“No, no, no. Hunter.” The word was strangled and I thought her pleasure was peaking.
“Damn it—I’m so sorry, Hunter. I have another call. I have to take it.”
“It’s Coach, isn’t it?” My hand released my disappointed cock. Disgust mingled with fury at my stupidity, but none of the roiling emotions could cover the deep trough of longing underneath, shadowing everything with the impossibility.
“Yes. I’m so—”
“Just as well.” I forced the words out, gritting my teeth and pulling myself to a stand. An ice-cold shower wouldn’t cure me, but it would get rid of the immediate evidence of my idiocy.
“Another time—”
“No.” I nearly shouted the word.
“I’m going to the game and then dinner with Dad on Sunday, so I won’t see you.”
“You’re damn right you won’t see me. We can’t do this. I can’t see you. Damn it, I can’t even talk to you without wanting you. And I owe Coach too much to do this.”
“Don’t say another word, Hunter. I don’t want to hear about Coach.” Her words were strangled.
“I’m sorry, Cat. He’s a good man. He’s the only one who gave me a chance.”
“I know.”
“Did you have something to do with that?” I held my breath.
“No.” Her voice was quiet. “I suppose I owe him too, then.”
“For what? Setting us up for torture?” I tried a laugh. It didn’t work.
“For helping you.” The simple kindness of her words lashed my heart and seared my soul. I leaned against the wall so I wouldn’t fall to my knees. “Good night, Hunter.”
She disconnected the call when I wanted to beg her to come to me now, beg her to let me come to her.
Damn my fool soul. I was so f—cked. I was falling for Coach’s daughter.