“No.”
“Is she my coach?” I asked.
“You know she’s not.”
“Then it doesn’t involve me.” I stood from the chair. “I need to get changed and head to the weight room if you’re done.”
He leaned back in his chair, and I hated the look of disappointment on his face. That face had aged since I last saw him but not by much. It was in the color of his hair, and the addition of a few lines around his eyes. But I’d changed too. I’d gained about seventy-five pounds of muscle since the day I stood in his driveway, humbled and embarrassed and, quite frankly, terrified.
Sometimes, I hardly recognized the man who stared back at me in the mirror. But I promised myself that day that I’d never feel that way again. One stupid slip almost ruined my life. A mistake that never would’ve been worth the consequences had the wrong person caught us.
“Anything else you need from me, sir?”
It took a second for Logan to answer, but finally, he said, “No, that’s it.”
I nodded and left his office far more quickly than I’d entered. As I walked back down the hallway, trying to remember which one led to the elevator that would get me to the locker room and weight room, I harnessed every ounce of mental discipline in my body to ignore what he’d told me.
The absolute last person I cared to see at work was her.
And more than likely, I wouldn’t have to. Players rarely saw front office staff unless they made it a point to. I took a deep breath and refocused. The elevator was down the hall and to the right, and that was what I needed to think about.
Someone on the janitorial staff passed me with a polite smile, which I returned just enough that I wouldn’t look like a raging asshole. Making the turn, I saw the gleaming metal doors. I punched the button and waited. My muscles bunched in anticipation of a good workout. If I didn’t put in a couple of hours a day, minimum, I felt an uncomfortable buzzing underneath my skin. Energy that had no outlet would start seeking one, no matter what that outlet was.
For me, I chose the healthiest. The one that would make me stronger. Make me faster. Make me better.
Some players drank. Partied on yachts. Raced cars. Did drugs. Slept around.
But they weren’t as good as I was. To me, all those things were pointless distractions.
The doors opened, and I strode into the empty elevator car. I hit the button for the correct floor and waited. Just as the doors slid shut, a hand popped through the opening, halting their progress.
Like I had a few moments earlier, she surged inside the car, coming to a screeching halt with a squeak of surprise when she saw me leaning up against the wall.
We were frozen there, staring at each other, her mouth hanging open as the doors tried to close unsuccessfully. She stepped forward, and the doors closed smoothly, locking me in the enclosed space with Molly.
“Hi, Noah,” she said weakly.
NOAH
Tilting my chin up, I breathed slowly through my nose.
“This cannot be happening,” I muttered.
“Nice to see you too,” she said, voice no longer weak and surprised.
Grudgingly, I dropped my gaze, and for the first time in nine years, I looked Molly Ward straight in the face. The last time I’d seen her, my father had marched us over to her house to deliver her back to Logan and his wife.
The last time I’d seen her, I’d pulled her shirt off and sucked on her enthusiastic tongue while she wiggled on my lap. I didn’t even have a good reason for doing it, other than being a dumb college football player who didn’t question things like hot girls wanting to be with me.
The last time I’d seen her, I was an idiotic nineteen-year-old, completely unaware that the girl with the fantastic rack, the one who eyed me like I was made of chocolate, the girl who climbed into my bedroom window and tasted like Rainier cherries, was only sixteen.
Thank God my dad walked in.
There was a lot about her that hadn’t changed. She was still short—or short compared to me even though she was probably around five feet eight—and her eyes were the same bright blue. Her face had slimmed down because the cheekbones were new, while some of the other curves she’d had as a teenager were either effectively hidden behind her simple white shirt or had melted away as she grew into an adult. Her hair was lighter than it used to be, but the stubborn lift of her chin gave me vivid flashbacks to the last time I’d seen her.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Your brother warned me you worked here.”
“I didn’t realize I was intimidating enough to require a warning.” She smiled, and I had to give her credit for holding it in place as my own mouth flattened into a line. “Welcome to Washington, Noah. I heard about the trade yesterday.”
Her polite attempt at conversation almost had me relaxing my stance and softening my tone just a little bit. But as I studied her face again, beautiful and fresh-faced and sweetly smiling, I decided that was the worst damn thing I could possibly do.
The last time I’d been kind to a teammate’s wife, giving her a ride home because she drank too much, I was rewarded by her shoving her hand down my pants, a slap on the face when I told her to get the hell out of my car, and the loss of my position on the team when she told her husband that I hit on her.
Just another example that no woman was worth putting my career on the line for.
“It wasn’t my choice to be here, trust me.”
She watched me carefully, eyes darting over to the elevator panel before she leaned over and slapped the emergency stop button.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. She knocked my hand away when I tried to hit it again.
“Calm down. We have a solid five minutes before anyone in security is notified.”
My answering stare was nothing short of incredulous. “How do you know that?”
“The twins tried it once because they were curious,” she said calmly. “Paige was pregnant, and they wondered what would happen if she got trapped in the elevator. We turned it into a labor and delivery drill.” Molly tilted her head, smile spreading as she told me. “Logan was so pissed because they disappeared from the practice field with his stopwatch to time it from beginning to end.”
Rubbing my temples, I felt the beginnings of a headache blooming behind my eyes. Questions, so many questions, sprang to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down.
“Hit the button, Molly. I need to go to the weight room.”
She glanced at a slim gold watch on her wrist. “We have just over four minutes.” Then she pinned me with those blue eyes. “What’s your problem? You’re acting weird.”
I pushed off the wall. “You don’t know me. You wouldn’t know how I act under any circumstances, let alone this one.”
Her face pinched briefly. “Fair enough, but I used to know you. You were a nice guy, Noah.”
“I was a college athlete who let his dick make stupid decisions. I screwed around and wasted my time on video games and parties and women who I don’t remember anymore. Typical player, in more ways than one, and you’d do good to remember that.”
The words were intended to hurt. And I saw the moment they hit their mark, as clearly as if they’d drawn blood from her smooth, pale skin.
Molly rolled her lips in, the edges of her cheekbones turning pink, but she didn’t reply right away. I expected capitulation. Another kindly spoken request. And for the second time that day, she surprised me.
“I was in diapers when my brother started playing professional football. I’ve worked here for four years and interned for two before that. I’m the last person who needs a lecture about asshole football players. I daresay I’ve known more of them than you have.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Ward.” I shouldered past her and hit the button.
The elevator chugged back into motion, and she shook her head.
“There’s no reason we can’t be friends.”
A laugh burst out of me. “There are so many reasons, and I have no desire to explain any of them to you. You’ve known a few players. Good for you. But you don’t understand the kind of pressure I’m under, or the way that I operate, so I’ll tell you this.” I leaned toward her, gratified when she swallowed roughly, and her eyes widened. “I’m not here to make friends. You were a mistake that I narrowly avoided making, and I have no intention of going down that road again.”
For a moment, I expected the crack of another small female hand against my cheek. But that was not what Molly did.
“What happened to you?” she whispered sadly.
The elevator doors slid apart, the area beyond blessedly empty. I gave her one last look. “I grew up, Molly. You should do the same.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.