Chapter Nine
EMERSON
“Are you sure this is okay?” I glanced around the empty locker room and shivered. My body ached in all the wrong places, places I didn’t even know existed. Practice had ended a half hour ago, and even though I’d rolled out my muscles and nearly cried from the impact of the foam roller, I still hurt.
“Sure.” Kinsey shrugged. “I use it all the time. Just make sure to lock up when you’re done. It’s one of the perks of being a Bucks Girl.” She dumped the last bag of ice in the tub and pointed. “Ten minutes, no complaining. No tears. Buck up, Bucks Girl.”
I shivered. “I hate ice baths.”
“Everyone hates ice baths, psycho.” She patted me on the back and then gave me a friendly shove toward the tin tub. “Keep your sports bra and underwear on just in case one of the night janitors walks by or, you know, a player.”
I glared. “A football player?”
“No worries. It’s preseason, and practice is at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow. It’s too late for them to be out, the big babies.”
“Okay.” I sighed, buying myself more time before Kinsey crossed her arms and waited. “You’re not leaving until I’m in the tub, huh?”
“I’m not leaving until your ass is in that tub.”
“I take back what I said about you being nice.”
Laughter burst out of her. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Now get in the tub, Em.”
With jerky movements, I pulled my tank over my head, tossed it on the floor, and jerked down my black leggings.
“Get in.” Kinsey pointed.
“I am!” I snapped. “I just . . . was thinking.”
“You were stalling.”
“You’re a bitch.”
“Name calling? Really?”
I gripped the sides of the tub and slowly lowered my sore body. A rush of cold stole the breath from my lungs as tiny needles started jamming into my skin.
“S-so cold.” I hated Kinsey. “I hate you, I hate you.”
Her answer was to shrug then grab a red kitchen timer and crank it up to ten. “Alright, see you tomorrow morning, friend!”
“I have no friends!!” I yelled back at her. I heard her laugh as the locker room door closed.
Teeth chattering, I tried to think of something to distract myself with while I was blanketed by chilly silence and an insane amount of pain. But the agony was intense, and my muscles seized with every breath I tried to suck in.
The locker room door opened again.
“We still aren’t friends!” I yelled as my body convulsed beneath the icy water.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” came a dark, sexy voice. “I could have sworn we made a pact of sorts this morning.”
I glanced up through frozen eyelashes to see Sanchez towering over my icy hell with a grin on his smug face.
“Why are you here?”
“Forgot my cell.” He grinned wider. “How was the first day, Curves?”
“Frigid,” I answered in a bored tone.
“Doubtful.” He dipped a finger in the water, flicked some in my face, then gripped either side of the tub. His large body loomed over me, casting a near shadow in the dark. “Even the word sounds awkward coming from your mouth.”
“You’re in my space.”
“I’m big. I’m in everyone’s space.”
“You’re not making the next few minutes easy. I can’t exactly escape. Is this how you trap all your friends?”
“Only the ones I really like.” He winked, leaned back and pulled out a chair, then propped his feet up on the rim of the tub. “Tell me you’re naked under all that ice.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” My teeth chattered again as I rested my head back and cursed. “How many more minutes?”
Sanchez whistled, his green eyes flashing to the timer. “Four.”
“It’s only been six minutes!” I didn’t mean to yell.
He burst out laughing. “Let me help you take your mind off things.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Sanchez!”
“Wow, you screamed my name, and it’s only our first date.”
“We aren’t dating!” I was yelling at the best receiver in the league, a gorgeous celebrity. He was talking about distracting me, and I was yelling. Maybe because my heart didn’t flop.
It didn’t flip.
Nothing moved.
No butterflies.
Just awareness that he was hot.
And I was freezing my ass off.
“Three minutes.” He knelt by my head. His hands cupped either side of my face like he was inspecting me. “What do you say, Curves?”
“To what?” My icy tomb was starting to numb my brain because I seriously had no idea what he was talking about.
“To warming you up a bit,” he said before silencing my protests with a searing kiss that did wonders for my current state of terror.
I kissed him back.
Because his kiss was the type you had no choice but to respond to, it didn’t ask permission, it made you curious, and it promised to give you answers if you kissed back.
So I did.
Our tongues met with a frenzy of heat that I was seriously not prepared for, and when his hand slid behind my neck, pulling me closer, I went with it.
Because it had been six years since I’d been kissed like that.
Almost that long since I’d let myself feel.
And I realized it felt good, so good to be wanted, even if it was by a stupid playboy football player who probably had enough notches in his bedpost to make it look like Swiss cheese.
He pulled away; his lips slid down my freezing neck, and then his mouth was back on mine.
The timer went off.
I tried to move.
He wouldn’t let me.
“Warm?” He tilted his head, his smirk gone, replaced with something I would probably question later while trying to find sleep.
“Hot.” I swallowed the nervousness I suddenly felt in his arms.
His green eyes fell to my mouth one more time like he wanted to kiss me again, and then he did something that I could only assume was completely out of character. He stood up, grabbed a towel and handed it to me, then turned around.
“Thank you.” I shivered one last time, my entire body numb as I shakily got out of the tub and wrapped the towel around myself.
Was he secretly a gentleman? Or perhaps . . . just that insanely smart that he knew the only way to get in a girl’s pants was to play the nice guy and then pounce?
“I can hear you thinking from over here, Curves.”
“Sorry.” I was gaping at him. I gave my head a little shake, then quickly stripped out of my wet clothes and pulled on my sweatshirt and sweats I always kept in my duffel bag. “Okay, I’m . . . uh, no longer naked.”
“Fuck.” He hung his head and then glanced over his shoulder. “You lied about being naked?”
“Gotcha.”
He swallowed, his eyes slowly glazed over as he looked his fill. “Damn shame.”
“Excuse me?”
“That you have to wear clothes.” He winked. “You ready to go?”
“Sure.” I grabbed my bag while he walked over to one of the separate rooms and returned holding his phone in his hand.
The late summer air warmed me just as much as his kiss. We walked side by side, silent, into the parking lot.
“You need a ride?” he asked.
I glanced at my junky Honda and shrugged. “Nah, she’ll make it.”
“You sure?” He pointed. “Shocker she hasn’t been stolen.”
“Very funny.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have to be at practice early tomorrow to go over some stuff with our new teammate. I’ll drop you off, then pick you up in the morning. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds”—I unlocked my door and got in—“like you’re trying to find out where I live.”
He braced himself between the small space of the car door and the rest of the car. “It’s more of a professional interest in making sure our new cheerleader makes it home safely.”
“Yeah, I call bullshit.”
He grinned. “Total bullshit. I really just want to fuck you.”
“Well . . .” I tried not to look too offended. “At least you’re honest.”
“It usually works better than flowers.”
“I’m not really a flowers kinda girl.”
“Somehow, that makes sense.” He exhaled and then ran a hand through his hair. “I’m kind of . . . not used to getting rejected.”
“Take an ibuprofen and have a nice glass of wine tonight, Sanchez. Things will look so much better in the morning after a good night’s sleep.”
“Sarcastic little shit.” His grin widened. “Tell me it wouldn’t be good between us.”
I couldn’t. I knew it. He knew it. Because it would probably be explosive and then based on his track record I’d end up punching him for some asinine comment, and he’d apologize and round two would only get better. Only to end.
But I didn’t want better.
I tried to choke back the tears.
“Whoa, whoa.” He knelt to my level. “Curves, what the hell? Where did that expression come from? Because it sure as hell wasn’t from me.”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Seriously. Nothing.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me why you lost your smile.”
“Wow.” I gripped my steering wheel and shook my head. “You know, if you used your powers for good, you might actually find yourself in a stable relationship, with kids, a dog, maybe even a parrot. Dream big, Sanchez.”
“I do like birds.” He didn’t take his eyes from mine. “Now, what has my curvy, one-night stand so sad?”
“We aren’t sleeping together.”
“Who sleeps? I meant sex. I’m sorry. Was that confusing?”
“Sanchez.”
“God, I love it when you say my name.” His sexy grin fell. “So really, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
He gripped the door. “I have all night.”
He wasn’t going to go away. He was like a really hot case of the flu or a lingering cough. The point? I needed sleep, and I was already losing the battle of wits with the guy. Honestly, he was exhausting, and I was semi-pissed at myself that I couldn’t be that girl, the girl that just jumped into his waiting arms and agreed to a no-strings-attached good time.
“I love football. I hate the players. Let’s just say I had a really, really, really bad experience.”
“Clearly, since you said three reallys.”
“Really bad.”
“That was four.”
“May I leave now?”
“Yup.” He tilted my chin toward him. “You know we could have fun . . . forget all the drama.”
“You are the drama.” I shoved him away with a laugh. “Go fraternize with another cheerleader. This one’s on lockdown.”
“We’ll see.” He shut my door and waved me off.
Thank God, my car started.
Because I wasn’t sure I had the willpower to say no to his easy smile again. The fun banter in the parking lot of the Bucks’ stadium reminded me so much of Miller that it made my stomach hurt—that and my heart; the stupid muscle kept jolting at the thought.
Miller and I could have had that.
And sadly, a part of me still wanted it.
I wanted Miller.
Not Sanchez.
I wished attraction to a football player was easier.
But it wasn’t.
I pulled into my apartment complex and rested my head against the steering wheel, then slowly made my way up the three flights of stairs.
Home.
“Hi, Dad!” I tried to keep the happy in my voice.
“Baby.” His tired eyes drank me in. “How was practice?”
“Good.” I swallowed the thick tears in my throat.
I hadn’t been lying about not having friends. Between working my ass off to make the squad and helping take care of Dad, I was exhausted most days. Luckily my job allowed me to work from home.
Home.
The apartment was small. More of just a roof over our heads, since all of our money went toward medical bills, medicine, and his home care.
“Great. You always were such a wonderful student.” His empty eyes blinked before he started to break down. “I can’t believe you’re graduating in a few weeks!”
“Yeah.” I looked past him to Connie, the live-in nurse. She had her dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, her black-rimmed glasses sliding down to the middle of her nose as she put her hands on her narrow hips. “Me either.”
“It was a good day,” she said, her kind eyes always a welcome sight. “How was yours?”
She’d been in our lives for two years. It allowed me the reprieve I needed, especially when he had hard days. It was devastating to see someone crumble, a bright mind just . . . gone.
“Emerson? Your day?” She repeated.
“Um, very uneventful.” Except for a scorching kiss from one of the most famous NFL players in the world and a lingering suspicion that, had I said yes, my night would have ended with multiple smiles rather than the choking sadness and emptiness I felt in my own home. “I should go to bed.”