Chapter 17
A Foolish Precaution
Kodi
In hindsight, I shouldn’t have offered to watch after Kean. Because if the drive back to his place was any indication, this was going to be a boring ass few hours. I’d tried three times to make conversation, just to fill the silence, and he did the usual five-words-max response.
Though that word limit didn’t seem to exist when questioning my dating history.
Such a stereotypical man thing, to demand to know why you wouldn’t consider dating them, even if they weren’t interested themselves.
At least I was pretty sure he wasn’t into me like that.
There might have been some looks, but overall, Kean struck me as the kind of dude who gave zero shits about dating, especially during the season.
I bet he’s been broken up with several times because a girl went after him and then after a few months realized he was just going along with whatever.
I couldn’t picture him actively doing anything but soccer.
So yeah, even if he might have a base level of physical attraction for me, there’s no way he’d be interested in anything else, even if I wasn’t his PA.
And yet, stepping into his condo, at night, with nobody else, did feel … a little familiar. Familiar enough to get my heart rate up.
“So …” I dragged out the word, suddenly feeling like I needed to do something with my hands. “When’d you last ice that bump?”
“During the time-out.” He started emptying his pockets into a bowl on the console table and toed his shoes onto the rack underneath it.
It was weird that I’d been here nearly a dozen times over the past two weeks, but never with him.
I had no idea how he existed in this space, if he kept his socks on, if he wore slippers, if he had a favorite side of the couch.
All the normal things you’d notice when going over to somebody’s place for the first time.
To keep myself from awkwardly watching him settle in, I moved over to the kitchen to make an ice pack.
“How are you liking the meal plan so far? Enough variety?” I asked, trying to fill the tense silence Kean always seemed to drag around with him.
I wonder what he was like in the locker room with the guys, if any of them felt anxious because of how little he talked or if they were all used to it by now.
“They’re good. They have all the nutrients I need.”
“Right, I know that. That’s why I picked the plan. But how do you like the taste?” I scooped some ice into a plastic bag before wrapping it up in a dish towel. When I turned to hand it to Kean, he was just settling onto the stool at the kitchen island.
“Taste doesn’t matter much to me.” He reached over the counter and plucked the ice pack out of my hands, gently resting it on his head and wincing when it made contact. “If it serves its purpose, it’s fine.”
I bit my tongue to keep from calling him lame. But really, who had all this money and didn’t splurge on nice food every now and again?
If it was any other player, I’d think it was just an on-season thing. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that wasn’t the case with Kean. He kept up a strict routine all year.
“Go ahead and say it.”
My head popped up. “What?”
“Say it. Everybody else on the team does, too.”
“Say what?”
“That I eat like a dog. That I take shit too seriously. Take your pick.” Kean rested his cheek on the counter and cradled his head with his hands.
“I wouldn’t say you eat like a dog,” I said softly, trying to fight the urge to laugh. “Your meal plan has at least three options. Most people only feed their dogs one type of kibble.”
It was a bad joke, with not much thought put into it, but it did something I never expected.
It made Kean laugh.
The sound was strained, rough like he wasn’t used to making it. But it was genuine.
Genuine and followed immediately by a painful groan.
“Don’t make me laugh, Kodi. It hurts.”
That made me giggle. For all his tough, ‘I’m fine’ bullshit, he really did seem like such a baby in this moment.
And something about the way he said my name, muffled by his arms, made me feel soft. Too soft to tease him for being a bit of a baby. So I settled for pulling out the ibuprofen as slowly as possible so it didn’t make as much noise.
“Take these,” I said, sliding two pills over before turning to get him some water. By the time I turned back, he’d already taken them. I clicked my tongue. “I’m pretty sure it’s bad for you to swallow pills without water.”
“Well, you still think you should keep someone with a head injury awake, so I’m not taking your medical advice.”
My jaw dropped. Was Kean being sassy with me? Maybe he really did have a concussion. Or …
“What do you normally do after a game?”
“Mmm. Shower then bed.”
Right, sleep deprived does make more sense than concussion.
“You don’t normally eat?”
“Nah, it’s easier to just crash after a game.”
He set his head back down on the counter and I let him be, busying myself by making him a peanut butter sandwich, because of course Kean didn’t have any jelly in the fridge.
“Do you not go out to celebrate your wins? I bet Brooker would love to take you out to a club.”
“Brooker’s an asshole.”
“Is he your least favorite teammate?” I didn’t bother fighting my grin; getting sleepy Kean to talk was too fun to bother.
“Yeah.”
“And who’s your favorite?”
Kean was quiet for so long, I thought he might have fallen asleep. But eventually, he muttered a name. “Carter. Even though he did bet against me.”
“Bet against you in what?” I plopped his sandwich on a plate and slid it over to him. He lifted his head just enough to see what it was, then shot up, immediately wincing afterwards.
“Nothing important,” he grumbled before shoving the sandwich in his mouth. I hummed but let him avoid the topic. There was no good reason for me to push. I’m sure the boys made all kinds of bets, Kean was just on the losing end of whatever this one was. But …
“Humor me.”
“No,” he huffed through a mouthful of peanut butter.
“Mean,” I gasped. I figured he’d deflect, say something about how it wasn’t any of my business. But him saying no outright was so funny. “Why won’t —”
“Why were you up in the announcer's booth?”
“Oh.” How do I explain that without explaining my shameful history? “I ran into Marshall on the way in and he invited me up to talk about …”
As I paused to think of a good excuse, Kean filled in the gaps.
“So he brought you up there to flirt?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. Why do you think everybody’s trying to flirt with me? Is there some locker room talk I’m not privy to?”
“No.” He took another large bite of his sandwich, like he was trying to keep his mouth full so he didn’t say something stupid.
“Well, if there wasn’t locker room chat, then I’ll just assume you think everyone wants to flirt with me because that’s what you wanna do.”
Kean’s eyes met mine, the green suddenly so much darker. He maintained eye contact as he finished chewing. And despite it being awkward as fuck to watch him eat, I couldn’t look away. His eyes were too intense, his focus too strong.
“Maybe,” he said after he finally swallowed.
Maybe. Such a simple word. A simple answer from a simple man.
An answer that made my cheeks burn.
How could he just say that with a straight face? Sleep deprived or not, shouldn’t he be embarrassed to say he wants to flirt with his PA?
“Did you get everything you need for the social stuff?” he asked before I could wrap my head around what he’d just admitted.
“No, I got distracted. But …” Might as well take advantage of this change of topic. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. “Want to tell the fans you’re all right?”
Kean raised an eyebrow but straightened up.
“Like you want me to talk to the camera?”
“If you’re comfortable doing that.”
He grumbled and set the ice pack aside.
“I’m fine, everybody. It was just a bump on the head,” he said straight to the camera with the same look he gave Dustin when he was asking the screening questions.
“Is that all you wanna say?” I prodded and he furrowed his brow, giving me a look that said, ‘what else could I possibly have to say?’ But then everything lifted like an idea struck.
“Right. Come out to next week’s Whip Snap Cup at Miramar Beach. All proceeds go to the kids.”
“Wow,” I whispered as I stopped the recording. “That might be the longest sentence you’ve said in front of the camera.”
“Har, har.” He set the ice pack back on his head and folded over onto the counter. “You said the point of this social shit was to sell tickets. So I’m selling tickets.”
“To the charity game you don’t get paid for,” I noted, uploading the clip to my video software. I’d wait to edit it when I got back to my laptop, just to add captions and remove my prodding. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind when pitching your social media plan.”
“Well, we’re focusing around … me, right? I like doing these games, playing with the kids. It’s fun.”
Ooo, another crack in the grumpy man’s shell.
“Understood. I’ll see if I can dig up any pictures from last year’s cup to make a post encouraging folks to buy tickets or donate to the program.
” I tapped my fingers on the counter, racking my brain for ideas on how to push this event in under a week.
I was going to post this clip of Kean on his stories, but maybe I’ll post it to the main feed to get more views.
Might be a good idea to get him to film something with the other guys this week, too.
“You can go ahead and go home, Kodi. I can see your mind racing.”
“Well, you’ve given me a new task, I won’t rest until I’ve got a game plan for it.
If I can make this the highest-selling year, I can prove —” I stopped, realizing it probably wasn’t a great idea to talk about my plan to move on from being his PA as soon as possible.
Though maybe hinting at it would make things better later on.
“I’d wanna be the team’s social media manager. You know, in the long run.”
“Long run,” he repeated, licking his lips. “Right, that makes more sense for you than being my fucking PA.”
“It’s not that I don’t like working with you,” I tried to say, feeling the shift in his attitude. Guess that was too big of a hint. Now time to pray he doesn’t remember it in the morning. “Just something I’m working towards. I’m focused on you now.”
“Focused on me.” His brow furrowed, eyes going fuzzy as he looked down at the counter. “I guess that’s good enough.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head and pushed away from the island. “I know it’s not been hours, but you should go. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”
“Oh, yeah. Okay.” I’d feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if he stayed up to watch a movie with me or something, but Dustin was a professional and I should listen to him.
Plus I was feeling a whole wide variety of awkwardness and I’d rather quit now than stumble on something else that would make Kean act weird. So I compromised.
“Sure, I’ll go. But if you don’t message me by nine a.m. tomorrow, I’m coming over for a wellness check!”