“Ohh, Sean-y!” Teeny preened, slamming into the locker room like a freight train. Jorge Martinez was a bear of a guy and not in the least bit ironically delicate. He was loud, he was rough, and he was a hell of a fucking football player. “That catch was siiick. How you even get under that thing, son?”
I smirked, thriving under the praise and the pressure to maintain my status, and shrugged. “I’m just good, I guess.”
Cocky and confident, I’d firmly established my player personality here on the New York Mavericks. At the end of my college career, I’d had a bad knee injury I feared would be the end of my football career altogether. Dejected and completely convinced I’d never play again, I’d lost some of my fire.
But then my sister, Cassie, brought home one of Wes Lancaster’s best friends, Thatcher Kelly, as her new boyfriend. They’d all done their best to convince me I’d been on the list to be drafted before the family connection, but I wasn’t entirely sure I believed them.
Still, faced with the option to do what I loved because of a little luck or reject it outright for the same reason, I’d done the smart thing.
You didn’t just walk away from a professional football career because of the unconventional way you may have gotten your foot in the door.
But accepting what was given and wallowing in it were two different things. And the Phillipses did their best to stand out.
I trained harder, worked harder, lived football harder than almost anyone I knew, and I made a vow to myself I’d believe I had what it took every day.
So far, it’d done me pretty well.
“Good at running your route,” Quinn shot back teasingly. “I’m the one who put the ball in the right place.”
My smile curled higher. “Aw, feeling a little left out of the praise, QB?”
His eyes lit up with the fuel to volley some insults back and forth, and I braced. Quinn was one of the best guys on the team—by far. He was one of the best players in the league and had a heart of fucking gold, but he loved to tease. And just like everything else he did, he was fucking good at it.
“Speaking of left out…you think the cute little vlogger forgot about you? Seems like she finished up with everyone else but you,” he poked.
“Nah,” I said with a smirk. “Saving the best for last.”
I’d had the pleasure of stealing glances at her sexy little ass over the past week, and I couldn’t deny I was practically salivating over the opportunity to be interviewed by her.
No doubt, it would only take a little taste of the charm I was so famous for, and she’d be eating out of the palm of my hand.
All the guys in the locker room clucked and hooted at our little pissing contest, and my chest swelled. They’d been watching Quinn and me go back and forth for four years now, and it was practically a team tradition. Hell only knew what they’d do for entertainment around here when it came time for one or both of us to retire.
The door to the locker room swung open, and a sharp whistle pierced the air. Fifty heads swung in that direction to find Coach Bennett just inside the door.
“Listen up! We’re about to have a female visitor in the room, so get your shit together. You’ve got the thirty seconds it’s going to take me to tell her she can come in to cover your dicks.”
Bodies lumbered into action, pulling on shirts and pants and buttoning all the fasteners. I was still naked, wrapped only in a towel from my shower, so I did the only thing I had time for and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs.
I’d just settled them on my hips and removed the towel when Six Malone stepped in. She smiled unabashedly, taking in all of us in our various stages of undress. She didn’t blush, and she didn’t turn away.
Apparently, she didn’t feel the need to be anything other than assertive.
It made me wonder if she had experience handling rooms filled with a bunch of rowdy, half-naked football players.
“Hey, guys! Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got an announcement to make.”
Smiles broke out like a rash across the room. She’d obviously had no trouble winning everyone over.
“The crew is outside packing up now, and we’ll be heading out soon.”
Groans and boos filled the air, but I was too busy frowning.
What the fuck?
Had she actually forgotten about me?
Fucking no one forgot about Sean Phillips.
“I know, I know,” she said with no faux modesty. “You’re going to miss me. Frankly, I’d miss me too. But my time is up this week, and you were all great! This is going to be one of the best opening segments I’ve ever done, and I can’t wait to see what else we can come up with in the next seven weeks.”
Quinn was nearly apoplectic with glee as he leaned over and whispered, “Saving the best for last, huh?”
Six waved cheerily and then exited the sad room. Everyone wanted her to stay, that much was clear, but I’d never even gotten the chance to know her.
What the fuck was going on here?
I grabbed a shirt from my locker, storming after her in just my boxer briefs and trying to put the shirt on as I went.
There was a titter behind me, mostly Quinn if his laugh was anything to go by, but a few others had joined in. I ignored their amusement and lengthened my strides. I’d be damned if the cute little vlogger was going to get away without an explanation.
I was out the door in a flash, and staff looked up and then back down again immediately at the sight of me in my underwear. None of them took out their phones that I could see, but I had more important things to worry about than showing up online in all my hard-bodied glory.
Six startled as I tapped her on the shoulder, and she spun around to find the culprit. Her eyes hit the wall of my chest first, thanks to our stark difference in height, and then climbed their way up to my eyes.
“Oh,” she said, “Hello.”
Oh, hello. That’s it. Like I was the fucking janitor.
“Hi there.” I smarted, trying to keep the grit of my teeth from making me sound like too much of an asshole. “Heard your speech in there about being done.”
“Oh yeah,” she cooed. “The guys were great! This is going to be a hit. I can tell.”
The guys. The guys. Like I wasn’t fucking one of them.
I faked a smile, but even I could feel it was a little manic. “That’s great. I hope it is a hit.”
“Me too,” she agreed easily, twisting her feet and shrugging her hands into her pockets. She was the poster child for nonplussed, and I was about to come out of my skin.
“But I know something that could help.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” she asked, completely oblivious.
The painful truth struck me like a sword to the gut.
Good God. She really didn’t even know who I was. Worse than that, she didn’t even remember talking to me at the meeting, apparently.
Am I completely losing my touch?
“Interviewing all of the guys.”
“Oh my gosh!” she gasped. “Did I forget someone?”
And then she looked around me. Behind me. Pretty much every-fucking-where but at me.
Finally, I lost it, snapping, “Yes! Me!”
“You?” she said, perplexed.
I looked to the ceiling and tried to tamp down the surge of anger. “Yes. Me. Sean Phillips. One of the best goddamn players on the team.”
Her eyebrows popped dramatically. “Wow. High praise for yourself, huh?”
“It’s just a fact, honey.”
“Ohh. Honey now. Interesting. But I’m confused. Are you yelling at me or seducing me?”
I took two deep breaths and talked myself back. Women never responded to aggression. I knew that all too well. Sweet-talking was a much better way to go.
“No seduction, no yelling,” I said easily. “Just helping you out with the information that you left someone out.”
She bit her bottom lip, cutting into the plump flesh dramatically. Her chocolate eyes flared to life, and my gaze zeroed in. “Oh, well, thank you. I guess we’ll have to fix that.”
I smiled and crossed my arms over my chest as she turned to the crew and prompted them to stop packing up. “Guys, hold up. We’ve got one more interview to do.”
She turned back to me then, surveying my stance, and her already vivid eyes started to dance. “You planning to do the interview like that?” She glanced pointedly to my barely covered cock and jerked her chin. “Or would you rather wear pants?”
Only then remembering my state of undress, I jerked to full height, and she laughed.
“I mean, I’m sure it’d be a big seller with the ladies. Maybe I should have done all the segments in underwear. Especially the really big guys,” she said with a wink.
What the fuck did she mean by that? I was a big guy. I had a big fucking cock and had half a mind to show her just how well-off I was—
She smirked.
Well, well. I shook my head. Someone is a feisty little teaser.
“I’ll go get dressed.”
Her laugh was melodious. “Good plan…” The rest of the sentence hung in the air like a lead balloon.
Did she not remember my fucking name?
“Sean,” I supplied with a frown.
She snapped and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Right. Sean.”
This girl was one fucking kick to the balls after another.
“Right. I guess…I’ll be back,” I muttered, a good amount of the wind officially gone from underneath my wings.
“Okay,” she said with a smile. “See you soon.”
I reentered the locker room to find it a lot emptier than before. Most of the players had headed out, through the back entrance, off to their lives.
Truth was, I didn’t have much of one outside of these walls. My sister was at least close, now that I was living near NYC, but I kept a tight training schedule and an even tighter friends list. Any of the guys I hung out with outside of the stadium were ones I saw in it, and any women I gave my time to were on a one-time basis. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend or a wife. That would come later. After I’d done everything I could to make a name for myself as one of professional football’s most influential players.
Quinn Bailey, however, had waited for my return, despite having a girlfriend to go home to. I suspected it was all for the pleasure of getting in one more good jab.
“So?” he asked, a mischievous sort of joy lingering in the corners of his lips and eyes.
“We’re doing my segment now,” I said, avoidance of the facts hidden under layers of camouflage.
“And why is that?” he prompted, unrelenting.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, knowing he’d find out one way or another. I might as well go ahead and get the truth over with. “She forgot about me.”
He guffawed. “O-ho! Wow, that had to sting, huh, buddy?”
“Shut up. She just doesn’t know me yet. Once she does,” I taunted, “she won’t be able to forget.”
“Sure, sure,” he agreed with a laugh. “She’s getting your name tattooed now.”
“Just go home to your girlfriend already.”
He smiled, full of pure ecstasy and adulation as he swung his bag up onto his shoulder. “Don’t mind if I do.”
He gave me a slap to the shoulder and booked, and I was left alone to get dressed. I hurried through the motions, making sure I got everything in place, and then made my way back out the door to Six.
She smiled sweetly, comically, really, at my new state of cover. I tried not to roll my eyes.
“So where do you want me?”
She held up a hand, a slight shake of her head saying it didn’t really matter. “There’s good.”
Without pausing to brief me, she glanced over her shoulder and nodded to the man with the camera. “Hit it, Joe.”
I flinched at the sudden flash of the light in my face, but Six didn’t even pause. She dove right in. “We’re here with Sean Phillips of the New York Mavericks.”
I forced myself to smile as she stuck a microphone in my face. “Say hi, Sean.”
“Hi, everyone!” I greeted cheerfully.
With a flick of her wrist, she dragged a hand across her throat, and the camera shut off immediately.
“Wait…What? That’s it?” I asked.
“Yep. We’re good. Thanks, Sean.” She turned to the guys. “Go ahead, you can pack up now.”
“You don’t want something more?” I asked again, knowing she had to be mistaken.
Her smile was unrepentant. “Nope. I’ll see ya next week.”
And just like that, it was over. She was gone, and so was my usual cocky confidence.
What the hell had just happened?