24. Joey
24
Joey
M y heart is breaking with every word Brent says. But he’s not done yet, and the cracks deepen.
“There can be no thoughts of falling in love or any kind of fairy-tale, happily-ever-after shit. It may not—”
“Arrogant much?” A well of anger surges inside me and flows like a red-hot volcano. My face flushes and I snatch my hand away from his. Oh God! How mortifying to be told not to fall in love with him! Especially when I realized a few moments ago that I just might have.
Brent grabs my fisted hand and holds it firmly this time. “Please understand, Josie. I want to be with you, but I want to make sure you don’t have any expectations from this except great sex and friendship.”
I narrow my eyes at him, mortified. “Fuck buddies, you mean.” I feel a flicker of satisfaction when Brent’s eyes widen at my bluntness.
“I’d prefer to think of it as friends with benefits.” I smile in an attempt to ease her annoyance, though I’m not thrilled with her characterization.
“I’m sure you would, but they both mean the same thing. And I didn’t ask for a relationship. Trust me, the last thing I want is to depend on a man for my happiness.”
Brent looks at me uncertainly, and I glare back. All embarrassment has evaporated, leaving me with only anger at his gall. Is this really who he is? Have I subconsciously waited all this time for someone who doesn’t exist except in my own fantasy world?
He brings his free hand to my cheek and gently cups my face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you with my proposa—proposition.”
I nearly smirk at his near slip, but he continues as if he didn’t almost say proposal.
“It wasn’t my intention,” he continues. “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. You, of all people, don’t deserve that.”
He pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m just being selfish. Last weekend was amazing. We got along so well, not just in bed, and I thought we could continue enjoying each other’s…company.”
I listen and watch him carefully while he speaks, his expression and voice sincere. He honestly thinks he’s proposing a mutually beneficial arrangement without realizing how it might make a woman feel—like a placeholder until something better comes along. Or maybe it’s just me. Other women might be thrilled at the prospect.
But, if he truly wants to continue what we had in San Diego, do I want to say no just because I know it’s not going to last? I’d be denying myself what I’ve fantasized about for years. I loved being with him, able to open up to him and talk to him about my painful past. I’ve never done that with another man. And the sex…Any word I can think of to describe how he makes me feel in bed is way too mild.
As he said, he doesn’t do dating and girlfriends, so it’s not as if it’s me he doesn’t want to date. I believe him when he says he hasn’t slept with anyone else during the past week. But it’s only a matter of time, a short time, before he does. My heart lurches at the thought.
So why give up what he’s offering, even if it’s short-term? It’s more time than I’d have with him otherwise. I concede with one condition of my own.
“I won’t share.”
He blinks as if unsure of what he heard.
“We won’t be dating or be boyfriend and girlfriend, but I won’t have sex with you if you’re having sex with other women too. That’s just gross.” My lips curl in distaste at the thought.
The smile that spreads across his face expresses his relief. He snatches me into his embrace and squeezes before pulling back and clasping my face with both hands so he can kiss me.
“Baby, I think you might have spoiled me for sex with other women, so you have no worries on that front.” He kisses me again. “And I’m tested regularly, in case you were worried.” Another kiss. “But I swear to you there won’t be anyone else as long as we’re…”
He trails off, unsure of how to label us and probably afraid of offending me.
“Friends?” I offer.
He smiles and kisses me softly. “And lovers.”
As soon as I wake up the next morning, all my worries come rushing back. Foremost is fear of becoming like my mother, dependent on one man for my happiness and emotional well-being. I have good reason to be afraid, because I’m becoming more than a little emotionally attached to him already. What will happen when he leaves me and I’ve fallen too deeply in love with him that no one else will ever be able to fill that hole again? I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back to being just friends.
But I’m not going to pass up great sex with the man I’m falling in love with, despite what he might or might not feel for me. Life is too short. Look at our mothers, both of whom lost the loves of their lives. One widowed much too soon, left to raise five children. And the other, divorced and heartbroken.
Despite my fears, I won’t pass up this chance. As long as he’s not having sex with anyone else, I can live with our arrangement. I’ll enjoy my time with him for as long as I can. I’ll deal with the inevitable heartbreak later, relying on the work I love to help me through it. Until then, I plan to make the most of the moments I have with him.
I run my gaze over him, sprawled out on my bed, facedown, feet hanging over the edge. The bed is big enough for me, but it’s crowded with him occupying it. I’m tempted to take a picture, but I resist the urge to behave like a groupie. I’m also tempted to climb back in with him. Unfortunately, I’ve already showered and dressed and need to leave for work soon.
“Hey, sorry to wake you up,” I whisper, leaning over to stroke Brent’s hair back from his forehead, kissing him there. I watch him slowly come awake, his thick lashes blinking.
“No, it’s fine,” he says, his voice gravelly with sleep. He sits up, kisses my cheek, and stretches, the sheet falling away to leave him completely nude. I, on the other hand, automatically blush and keep my eyes above his chin. Mostly.
“I need two minutes for a quick shower, and then I’ll drive you to work.”
He’d told me before we fell asleep that giving me a ride was the least he could do since he’d stolen a couple hours of my sleep. He’ll work out in the Firebirds training room, and if I’m able to, I’ll stretch him after.
“We have time,” I say. “Coffee’s ready and I’ll make some scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Sounds good.” He heads for the bathroom, allowing me to take in the view of his excellent behind as he walks away.
“Ready to start the new job?” he asks when he comes back, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt he’d pulled out of his duffel bag.
“I think so. A little nervous but also excited.”
“Why are you nervous? You know your shit.”
“Because this is on a whole other level. These guys are at the top of their game, making millions…” I look at him. “I mean, you’re one of them. Would you let someone new near you whom you didn’t know? I hear most of the guys like to go to the same person for whatever they need, every time.”
“Yeah, but it’s mostly because we’re a superstitious bunch. I’ll let you near me, anytime you want.” He leers at me before attacking playfully, kissing me until I insist we have to hurry or we won’t have time for breakfast.
Only a few other players are at the Firebirds practice facility when Brent and I arrive. The team is still technically on break. These few days of relative quiet will give me the chance to settle into the job and to prepare for what will be a chaotic time for everyone once training camp starts.
Players have been off for almost five months except for mini-camps and some team activities earlier in the summer, and not all of them have continued the rigorous training required to stay in game-time shape. Even those who have kept up with their workouts will be groaning in pain and limping off the field into tubs of ice water or the new cryotherapy chambers. Almost everyone will require stretching and massage and miles of taping.
“Make sure you warm up before you start your weights,” I remind Brent, a habit from reminding young players who think they already know everything. “After you finish your workout, if it’s okay with Randy, I’ll help you stretch and work on some of your kinks.”
“So to speak.”
Remembering our short-lived game in San Diego, I laugh. “Later,” I promise when he raises his eyebrow expectantly. I leave him to his workout and go to the treatment room.
Randy, the head trainer, introduces me to the other assistant trainers and interns, all male except one intern. I’m assigned to one of the assistants, Tom, to shadow him and get up to speed as fast as possible. Only a week remains before camp to learn the protocols and familiarize myself with policies and procedures.
I pay attention to Tom and take notes while he shows me around, but every once in a while, my mind drifts. To thoughts of Brent and how my life has changed so quickly. Of how perfect it felt to fall asleep in his arms and to wake up with them still wrapped around me.
Does he often spend the night with women? Deciding it’s best not to ponder that, I finish checking off supply lists, then go in search of Brent after getting Randy’s approval. I stop in my tracks when I find him on an incline bench, doing flies with massive dumbbells, his face scrunched with effort.
Oh my…I lose my breath, my mind, and just stand frozen, watching as the muscles on his arms and chest—everywhere—bunch and release as he raises and lowers his arms. He grunts during the last few reps and then drops the weights onto the padded floor. He’s taken his shirt off at some point during the workout. His chest is heaving, and he’s sweaty. I drink in every inch of the yards of muscles.
I’ve seen him workout before at his place, so I’m not sure why it’s different this time. Maybe because I can’t believe I’m intimately familiar with that body—touched it, kissed it…
“Unless you want to put on a show for everyone, you’d better stop looking at me like that.”
I snap out of it and glance around. A few players are scattered around the weight room, but the music is pumping loud and no one is paying us any attention.
“I was merely appreciating the perfection of the human body. Like admiring art in a museum,” I say primly. “Come on. Let me stretch you out.”
Brent takes his towel and wipes off the sweat as he follows me to the treatment room where the therapy tables are set up. I start stretching his leg out, raising it a little at a time, higher at each pass until I sense the tightness, using my fingers to help release the tension so I can stretch it a little more. I continue until the muscles are stretched adequately, then change angles. His calf is against my shoulder for leverage, and I repeat the process with his hamstring and calves, then switch legs, mentally keeping track of his trouble spots.
When Tom comes in and glances our way, Brent throws a hand towel in his lap. While a part of me can’t help the feminine thrill that runs through me at having caused his physical reaction, I assure him in my most professional tone, “It’s fine, Brent. It happens.”
“It better not happen when you’re working on the other guys.”
I try not to read anything into that comment. “It might, but if I took it personally, I’d have a pretty huge ego by now. I’ve had colleagues who were old enough to be grandmothers tell me about this happening to their clients.”
Brent scowls at me. He is not amused or appeased by my reassurance. “A little hard not to take it personally, isn’t it, when I’ve been inside you?”
I blush, hoping no one else is near enough to have heard that. We really need to talk about how much of our relationship we’re going to reveal. I assume there’s a no-fraternization policy between players and staff, even temporary ones. I also don’t want anyone to think sleeping with him got me the job. It wouldn’t matter that I was hired before we started our relationship.
I continue to work on Brent silently, asking him if he’s okay every once in a while when I catch him wincing out of the corner of my eye. I flick quick glances at his face to find him staring at me each time, though his gaze is not always on my face. My nipples tighten against my black polo, my unbound hair hiding the effect from him.
With my confidence somewhat bolstered by his appreciation of my body just the way it is, I took a chance and left off wearing a scarf, jacket, or vest. Not only would they look ridiculous with the polo, but I also won’t be able to wear any of it when working outside in the heat next week.
Almost done, I stand at the table behind his head and stretch out his upper traps and neck. Doing so requires me to lean over him while I hold his head and give him some neck traction. As I hang out in that position for several minutes, I can’t help but notice his own small nipples are hard points.
I slowly lower his head and ask if anything else in particular hurts or needs work. He sits up and gives me an incredulous look.
“Baby, are you purposely trying to drive me insane?” he growls at me in a voice low enough for only me to hear.
“What?” I ask in confusion. When he glances at his lap, I laugh. “So to speak?” I keep my voice soft, conscious of others in the training room.
Apparently he doesn’t think it’s fun and games anymore because he gets up and stalks to the showers.
He returns a little later while I’m finishing up an equipment check. “Let’s go to the cafeteria. We need to talk.”
I let Tom know I’m going to get a drink and follow Brent. He takes a protein shake for himself, and I grab a bottle of water before we sit at a table.
“What’s up?” I’m not sure what to expect, and his mood is hard to read. He was frustrated a little while ago, but he’s subdued now.
“I think we should…” He breaks off, then begins again. “I don’t think we should…Shit.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed, my heart sinking. Has he changed his mind about us already?