She laughed and said, “Good luck. I’ll check on our third-string quarterback. We never know when we’ll need him.”
“Tell him he needs to jerk off less. Write him a script. ‘Throw more, jerk off less.’”Glazier said.
“Why do you talk to her that way?” Bowen said after Roy moved to the other side of the trainers’ room.
“Talk to her like what?”
“Like a dick.” Bowen could out menace the center across from him, but trussed up turkey style wasn’t cutting it with Glazier.
Glazier pinned him with a stare. “Time you understood the score, Sullivan. If she wants to work here, I’m going to treat her the same way I treat any of the fucking guys. Gentleness or sweetness does her no favors in this world.”
“But... she’s still a lady. Shouldn’t we be better than that?”
“Ah, because you forgot how you treated your old slam-pieces? I don’t recall your discerning taste. Get this straight about Roy. She can walk away any damn time she wants, without punishment. She chose to be here and can choose to leave at any time.”
“She wants to be here?” Bowen’s gaze went right back to her. She was charming Mr. Third-String, so new that Bowen hadn’t bothered to learn his name.
The burning was back.
Jealousy.
For a woman he wasn’t dating.
Mr. Third-String sensed Bowen’s attention and flinched. Bowen gave him the glower he used before sacking the opposing teams quarterback.
Bowen had already had choice words to the newbie.
Stay the fuck away from her or spend the rest of the season in the hospital,might have been his exact words.
His shifting attention wasn’t lost on Glazier who stepped between Bowen and his line of sight to Roy.
“How many concussions have you’ve had? Listen to me. She fought to be here. She wants to be here. She’s developing a thick skin, and she gets to work with fabulous athletes. Right now, she’s under my protection, so none of you assholes are going to be dumb enough to touch her. Which means you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, doc?”
“Think I’m blind? Keep your damn eyeballs in your head and your soberly paws off of her. Don’t touch her. Don’t breathe on her.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.” Bowen shifted into the heating pad.
“Fat chance of that. Still, you’ve got a tough game tomorrow against the Seahawks. You’d better be thinking with your brains instead of your balls.”
“I only have one brain,” Bowen said.
“At least we can agree on that. Physical therapist will be in shortly for your stretches. Remember, keep your fucking hands off, boy. Don’t touch her.”
“I won’t.”
Bowen didn’t have the guts to admit that he had already touched Roy.
And she’d made it clear he was never going to touch her again.
CHAPTER2
OVER THREE MONTHS AGO
Cleveland Browns training camp had plenty of flexibility for friends and family, more than it did during the season.
Training camp held a presumed rite of passage to have a few ‘personal’ friendsstop by for a visit. More than one. Possibly rotating nightly.
