I pulled my bag from the passenger seat, stepped out, and rolled my shoulder to loosen it up a bit. A dull ache shot down my arm. I should have expected it to be a little sore after the day I had. The first practice after having a bye week was always tough. The beers and junk food I consumed over the weekend probably didn’t help either.
Fuck! I wasn’t sure whether to throw a bag of ice on it or down a shot of tequila to take the edge off.
I dropped my bag on the floor, peeled off my sweat-soaked practice shirt, and headed for the shower.
Today’s practice was brutal. The kind that wears your body down and makes you want to sleep for the next two weeks. Coach Mac had noticed that my arm didn’t have my usual quick snap today. I did everything I could to push through it and be tough. The last thing I needed was for him to doubt my ability to lead his offense.
I stepped out of the shower, toweled off, leaving a little steam clinging to my skin, when the doorbell rang.
I froze mid-step and adjusted the towel around my waist. I grabbed my phone to pull up my security app. Whoever was standing outside my front door better have a damn good reason for showing up unannounced. I was in a mood tonight.
I clicked on the camera view outside my front door and gritted my teeth. I would recognize that blond hair anywhere. Brian, my ex-agent, leaned casually against the porch wall, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, wearing the same smug expression I’d seen more times than I could count.
I dragged a hand through my damp hair, got dressed as quickly as possible, and stalked downstairs. I needed to call the security guard at the gate and add him to the denied-entry list. Something I thought I did already.
I swung the door open, thinking he couldn’t have worse possible timing. There was a reason why I made him send all communication through my lawyer. That had been our arrangement for weeks now. Ever since this whole mess started.
I had no interest in talking to a man who was trying to blackmail me.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
His grin sharpened. “Is that any way to treat the man who helped build your career?”
I just stared at him with water still dripping down my back. “If you have something to say, call my attorney.”
“Nah, this is a little personal.” He pushed off the doorframe, acting like this was a casual visit between buddies. “I ran into a mutual friend of ours at the gym yesterday.”
“Good for you.”
The slimy bastard smiled, acting like this was a friendly conversation. As if there hadn’t been weeks of threats hanging between us. I should have slammed the damn door in his face.
“Benji Oliver says he ran into you at the Blarney Stone on Saturday night.”
My eyebrows pulled together for half a second before I schooled my expression.
I shrugged. “So what?”
“According to him, you weren’t alone.”
He was baiting me, but I laughed it off. “That would be correct. The whole team was there. Are you stalking me now?”
He held my stare. “He mentioned seeing you out with your girlfriend.”
My stomach dropped, but I did my best to keep my face neutral. I’ve had years of experience playing it straight. It shouldn’t have been that hard.
I crossed my arms, feeling my senses go on high alert. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
The second the words left my mouth, they felt wrong. It felt like I was downplaying what was happening between us.
He tilted his head. “You sure about that?”
“I think I would know if I did.”
The denial came too fast and landed wrong in my chest. But what was the alternative? Admit the truth?
“Hmm… you must just be fucking her then.” He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and held it out.
There was a blurry picture of Becca and me kissing in the upstairs corridor. It was grainy and dark, the kind of picture that should have been easy to brush off, except one look at my hand on her neck and her lips pressed on mine, and you knew exactly what it was. It was an intimate moment, and it pissed me off that Benji was watching us.
