Reese

 

Sweet Mother Mary.

Had that just happened? Had I really just said the words on the cock to the King of the Court, Cam Donovan himself? And then I’d mumbled like a weirdo and run out of there like an awkward Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles.

Oh, God.

He’s going to think I was some kind of social pariah.

The worst part of it was that it had been a total “Let’s Get It On” moment. You know, those times with a guy that are so hot and so filled with sexual tension that the words to Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” run on a loop inside your head. You almost expect the song to suddenly come on over invisible speakers, like in the movies. I never got to have those. And there I’d been in the middle of the most spectacular one in recorded history, until he’d opened his arrogant mouth, of course. But instead of acting all sexy and going with it, I had dished out sarcasm as thick as pea soup.

Then I’d made a complete ass of myself.

I was never that awkward around guys. Mainly because they usually never affected me on an emotional level, even the super good-looking ones. Because they were always a disappointment in some other area—like their personality—that rendered being nervous around them a moot point.

So, why in the hell did Cam Donovan of all people have me tongue-tied?

Because he has the body of an underwear model and every inch of it had been on display?

Well, not every inch. I was guessing there were at least eight to nine inches that I hadn’t seen, hiding underneath that T-shirt.

And damn. That was impressive.

As was the rest of his body. He had bulked up over his years in college, and he was now a veritable brick wall. Thick, defined biceps that made your mouth water. Pectorals that barely rippled when he moved because there was simply no body fat there. Perfectly cut abdominal muscles that led down to a beautiful “V” on his hips. And strong, powerful thighs that were somehow the most tantalizing view out of the whole package.

Probably because of what had been dangling between them.

Shit. I had to stop thinking about it.

I was about to step out onto a court full of athletic, sweaty men. Now was not the time to turn into a silly, flustered girl who got weak in the knees every time a guy flexed his muscles at her. Especially since the male human body was precisely what I was going to be working with for the next several months. I was going to be touching these guys, getting pretty dang close to them. I couldn’t break out into a sweat every time I had to massage a leg or tape up an ankle.

This was my job.

And I would be professional, dammit. No matter how many gorgeous naked asses I was going to see. If I let it affect me every time, I was going to be in a world of lady hurt.

I exited the tunnel and stepped into the Thunder Dome, home court of the NCU men’s basketball team. A revered historic place, one respected by all members of the basketball community. It was like Madison Square Garden or Wrigley Field. Some of the greatest basketball players in history had played on these hardwood floors. And even as a mere trainer, I considered it an honor to be part of such a tradition.

The stands were empty, of course, but there was still this energy buzzing in the air that sent a small spike of adrenaline through my body. There was a flurry of activity on the court as the guys ran drills, the coaching staff watching closely from the sides. I caught sight of Gus on the other side of the court, tending to a player’s ankle. But I still didn’t see…

There he was.

My dad.

Standing under one of the goals on the baseline, watching the action before him with focused, narrowed eyes. It was an expression I easily recognized. He had coached me so much throughout my younger years, it wasn’t something I could forget. In fact, seeing him standing there like that took me back to a time when my family was still together and still happy.

Or when my parents had pretended to be happy.

I had been a daddy’s girl back then. I’d idolized him. He’d taught me everything I knew about basketball. It had been our special bond. Then he’d taken a coaching job at a big college, his marriage to my mom had suffered, and it wasn’t long after that they’d divorced. And suddenly, I was no longer a daddy’s girl. I’d simply become the daughter he saw twice a month.

Man, memories sucked.

I hated dredging up all that buried shit. But I guess it was better to do it now—once—and get it over with, so I wouldn’t have to again for the rest of the season.

He held up his arm and called the players to stop the drill. He’d never liked using whistles.

“All right, good. I want half of you on this side for the dribble screen drill, and the rest of you at the other end setting up the ten spot shooting drill. Go!”

The guys immediately scattered, dividing into two groups. In the midst of the commotion our gazes collided. Noticing me, his face instantly broke into a smile and he waved. But at my less enthusiastic return wave, his smile faltered a little. His eyebrows drew together briefly before he wiped the concerned look away.

I wanted to be fair and say this was a fresh start for us. We had a clean slate from here on out.

But I couldn’t.

Being here with him now, seeing him in his element, just reminded me of all the times he’d been there for his teams over the years and not for his only child.

He jogged over to me, decked out in all his NCU swag. Eric Bradley had become one of the most successful college basketball coaches ever. He was on par to be up there on the same lists as Bobby Knight and Mike Krzyzewski if he maintained his track record. The name Coach Bradley had become synonymous with college basketball.

Plus, he got even more attention for being a handsome guy. Short dark hair—more salt and pepper than the last time I’d seen him—a square jaw, and a commercial-perfect smile certainly hadn’t hurt his popularity. That smile was now smacking me in the face as he stopped in front of me.

“Hey, Reese. It’s so good to see you.”

He leaned in and gave me a one arm hug that couldn’t have been more awkward if we tried. It was sad, really. Practically half a year since we’d seen each other and that was how we first reacted. No endearments. No overwhelming emotions. We might as well have shaken hands, for crying out loud.

“Yeah. You, too.”

“I’m glad you made it,” he added, his eyes softening.

I shifted on my feet, desperate to avoid any sentimental moments between us. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it in such a public place.

“It’s my job,” I said evenly. “It would have been ridiculous not to take this position.”

He nodded, averting his gaze. I suspected I may have hurt his feelings. But if he thought I’d jumped at the opportunity to work alongside him, he didn’t know me very well.

“How was your Grandpa’s birthday party last week?” he asked.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my feet. “It was fine. Mom and I went over to their house like every year and we had a nice dinner.”

I hadn’t spent a birthday or holiday with my dad since I’d turned fifteen and was able to choose for myself who I wanted to stay with and when. I’d always chosen my mom, but I don’t think he ever minded. He’d always had his job, after all, and it kept him busy enough. There was always game film to watch, or new plays to come up with, or out-of-town scouting to do.

For him, I’d never been as important as the game he loved.

Which was why I quashed the sudden guilt I felt at the thought of him spending his own birthday and every holiday alone. He was basically famous and knew a ton of people. He probably never had to be alone if he didn’t want to be.

“I hope your mom is doing well,” he said in a resigned voice.

I bit back my snarky reply. It wouldn’t do any good to act like a petulant child. “She is,” was all I said.

His eyes flitted to something behind me. “Nice of you to join us, Donovan.” My heart rate kicked up at hearing that name. “Stretch, warm up with some suicides, then get in on the dribble screen drill.”

“You got it, Coach.”

That deep voice of his was now fully entrenched in my mind.

And even though I refused to turn around, I knew he’d been looking at me as he said that. Daring me to turn around. Almost taunting me. Probably smirking like he had in the locker room. The jackass.

“Did Gus show you around?” my dad asked.

I cleared my brain of the unwelcome Cam fog clouding my thoughts. “Yes. He got me set up in the back.” My gaze drifted over the court, assessing all the players. Avoiding one player in particular. “I figured I needed to come out here and start familiarizing myself with the guys.”

He sighed wearily. When I peered up, his forehead was creased and he looked uncomfortable.

“I guess we better get the introductions over with, then. I need everyone’s attention over here!” he shouted, his voice bellowing over the sound of bouncing basketballs and squeaking shoes.

All the guys stopped what they were doing, and slowly walked over to where we were standing. I could feel all twenty-some-odd pairs of eyes land on me, taking me in with curiosity. And interest, if I was reading some of their expressions right. Including Cam’s. I only glanced at him long enough to see him watching me with an intense look before I let my gaze fly back down the line of players.

Being a devoted NCU fan, I recognized all the starters and some of the bench players. Boyd Newton, small forward. The Lancaster brothers. Colt, the shooting guard and Jesse, the point guard. Krystupas “Krys” Andrulis, center, an exchange student from Lithuania with a killer hook shot. The sixth man, Vaughn Rafferty. Back-up point guard, Shane Morris. Sophomores Dillon Isaacs and Clark Harwood had both seen quite a bit of playing time last year, and were definitely up-and-comers.

Last but not least, power forward, Cam Donovan.

The undisputed leader of the team. The guy who was going to lead these guys to a national championship, if the sportscasters were to be believed.

And he hadn’t taken his eyes off of me.

My dad waved his hand down at me. “Guys, this is our new team trainer, Reese Bradley.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cam stiffen, but I refused to look at him. Yeah, I hadn’t told him earlier I was the coach’s daughter. Maybe if he’d known he wouldn’t have almost flashed me. Oops.

“She’ll be with us this season, assisting Gus,” my dad continued. “If you have any issues—aches, pains, or whatever—let Reese know and she’ll get you taken care of.” There was a brief pause, and the mood shifted ever so slightly as he turned a glare on all of his guys. “I expect you to treat her with the utmost respect. Period.”

That was the first time I’d heard him sound all protective and fatherly in…years.

I chanced a peek over at Cam. His eyes were still locked on me, looking utterly confused and demanding answers.

“Bradley?” Vaughn asked, drawing my attention. He grinned at me boyishly—I don’t think the guy was even physically capable of growing facial hair—as he addressed my dad. “Any relation, Coach?”

My dad pinned Vaughn with a look. “Reese is my daughter.”

A loud cough coming from the end of the line forced my head to the side. It was Cam. And he was not looking at me now. In fact, he looked as if he was desperately trying to look anywhere but at me. His head was lowered as he rubbed the back of his neck, acting like he wished the floor would open up and suck him in.

I knew the feeling.

I needed to wrap this up and get the attention off of me.

“I’ll be meeting with all of you individually over the next few days,” I said, forcing an authoritative tone. “Please let me know of any recent injuries you’ve had, or anything at all that’s been bothering you that we need to monitor. In the meantime, I’ll be around for any questions you might have.”

I didn’t want to come off like a hard ass, but I needed them to take me seriously. I worried they would assume I was receiving special privileges being the coach’s daughter. Or that I hadn’t earned this job, or that I didn’t know what I was doing.

Baby face Vaughn raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“What time do you have to be back up in heaven?” he asked with that same boyish grin.

A round of sighs and grunts echoed down the line of players, some dropping their heads in exasperation while others muttered under their breath.

I just smiled and looked straight at him. “About the same time you hit puberty, Rafferty.”

There was a moment of silence and then…

Laughter.

Loud whoops and cheers from the entire team, even from my own father, though he tried to mask it behind his hand. Vaughn didn’t look away as his grin widened, clearly pleased and unaffected by my barb. The guys slapped him on the back and others clapped in approval. I even noticed Cam losing the battle with his own smile. Though his eyes were still frowning.

“I think you’re gonna fit in just fine around here, darlin’,” Boyd said, his big meaty paw gripping Vaughn’s shoulder. “Especially if you’re able to teach our boy Vaughn here some manners.”

Vaughn crossed his arms over his chest, still smiling at me. “Whatever, gents. She’s already half in love with me. I can tell.” Then he winked at me.

I just rolled my eyes, though I had to admit I already kind of liked the cocky man-child. His body was lean and fit, definitely all man. But then you saw his face and you automatically wanted to ruffle his neatly combed hair. My God, he even had dimples. But the cute and preppy type really didn’t do anything for me.

Movement at the end of the line once again caught my attention. Cam had his hands on his hips, and he was glaring at Vaughn, a muscle in his jaw ticking. Shit, he looked like he was about to murder the guy.

But why? Vaughn was obviously joking around. What was his problem?

“All right, fun’s over,” my dad announced. “Everyone get back to work.”

The guys dispersed, but not before I received one final perplexing look from Cam.

“I’m afraid that’s only the beginning of the stupidity you’re going to get from this group,” my dad said, turning back to me.

I chuckled. “I can hold my own.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said that was pride on his face. “I know you can.”

He introduced me to his two assistant coaches, Larry Pinkle and Steven Tippins, who both seemed to have great rapport with the guys. By the end of practice a couple of hours later, I’d wrapped toes, fingers, ankles and iced shoulders, knees, and elbows. I’d bandaged several cuts and scrapes, and even stuffed cotton balls up a nose. And I’d only gotten through half of the team.

Guys were a lot of work.

Interestingly, I hadn’t met with Cam yet. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was avoiding me. Whenever I called for the next player, everyone appeared eager except for him. He wouldn’t even make eye contact with me.

I went with the team, walking in the middle of the group, as they all headed back to the locker room to shower. I rolled my shoulders, loosening the muscles. I’d been so preoccupied with tending to the guys, I hadn’t even realized how tense I’d been.

“Damn, Reese,” Vaughn’s voice said from behind me, echoing off the tunnel walls. “You must be jelly ‘cuz jam don’t shake like that.”

I turned around just in time to see Colt smack him over the head. “Dude, you really have to stop embarrassing yourself.”

I threw a smile over my shoulder. “Aw, Rafferty,” I crooned. “You must be butter ‘cuz you’re slimy and bad for my health.”

The group of guys burst into loud guffaws, and my chest swelled. Maybe working with the men’s team wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

The guys entered the locker room, and I continued walking down to the training room. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and a sudden burst of energy slammed through me. I would have—should have—felt uneasy about feeling an imposing presence behind me in this creepy tunnel, if I hadn’t known exactly who it was that was following me.

How I knew it was him I didn’t have a flipping clue.

I whipped around to face Cam and was almost smacked in the face by his glistening chest. Damn, when had he taken his shirt off? And why the hell couldn’t the guy keep his clothes on? I forced myself to meet his eye line. I’d rather chew on aluminum foil like it was bubble gum than allow him to see the way he affected me.

“Did you want another free show?” he grated out. “Because getting the full frontal this time might cost you.”

I was pissed off that my body reacted to those words. Lord, save me from the athletic underwear models of the world. He’d basically given me the cold shoulder all through practice, and now he was going to act all chummy when we were alone? No, no. That wasn’t how this was going to go.

Carefully, I maintained an unimpressed expression. “Actually, I’m very familiar with the human body. In my line of work you kind of have to be. And I got to say, once you’ve seen one penis, you’ve seen them all.”

Instead of scowling and huffing away in offense like I’d expected him to, he stepped forward, bringing his massive body too close to mine. I should have known a man like him wouldn’t walk away, wouldn’t give up the upper hand so easily. I couldn’t put any distance between us because there was a wall behind me. And when I lifted my chin, his face was right there.

“I don’t know what you’ve been looking at, sweetheart,” he said in that smooth way he had. “But what I’ve got down there is a cock. And when you see my cock, it’ll be the only one you can remember.”

What an arrogant bastard.

My body, the traitorous hag, went up in flames at his speech. And my pulse raced.

That didn’t mean I still didn’t want to twist his balls off with my bare hands and watch him cry like a little girl. Because I so did.

“Too bad I have absolutely no interest in seeing it,” I said through gritted teeth.

His mouth tipped up in satisfaction. “Tell that to the blush on your cheeks.”

Dammit. Why did my body never listen to my brain?

“Are you imagining what it looks like?” he whispered.

Yes.

“How big it is?”

I already had a pretty good idea about that.

His eyes drifted down to my lips. “How hard it can get?”

Okay. I had to put an end to this. Talking about hard dicks was just asking for trouble.

“Anytime you want the locker room uncensored version,” he continued, “all you have to do is say so.”

I pursed my lips. “I don’t think that falls under my job description.”

He snorted, meeting my eyes again. “Neither does peeping on naked guys, yet you felt compelled to do that.”

I sucked in a breath, dozens of expletives on the tip of my tongue. “For the last time, I didn’t know anyone was going to be in there.”

A pleased gleam flashed in his eyes. “Sure you didn’t.” He backed away slowly, smugness radiating from his features. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Reese.”

He disappeared into the locker room before I could come up with a snappy retort. I fell back against the wall, mimicking a tire that just had a giant hole poked through it.

I take it back.

Working for the men’s team was going to be a real bitch.