As soon as the door closed, Nate ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Sorry about those two goofballs. They don’t know when to shut up.”
Jax and Ryder were harmless flirts, but they were as subtle as a bullhorn. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find them entertaining. Nate, on the other hand, looked irritated.
I glanced at him, trying not to read too much into his reaction. “Don’t be annoyed with them. I think they add some levity to the pressers we have.”
He stepped forward like he was about to say something, but laughter in the hallway stopped him. “I’ll take a look at my schedule and follow up in a few days.”
“Sounds good.”
I headed for the door and glanced back at him. He seemed fine, but there was something in his expression that gave me pause. I tried not to overthink it. But I couldn’t quite let go ofthe feeling that there was some type of tension between us that stretched beyond professional.
I shook my head. It didn’t matter. He was a work assignment. Nothing more.
The sooner I could get this interview over, the sooner I could move on.
Right?
CHAPTER 6
BECCA
“I’m hereto see Nate Sandler,” I said to the security guard at the front desk, who was scrolling through TikTok videos on his phone. There were two assistant coaches a few feet away talking about today’s practice. Their voices were low enough that they probably thought no one could hear. It sounded like today’s practice hadn’t gone as smoothly as the other day.
The middle-aged man glanced up as I slid my media credentials and driver’s license across the counter.
“He’s just finishing up. The locker room is open.” He checked my name off and handed me my badge.
“Thank you.” I signed my name on the visitors log and pulled the manila folder out of my bag.
I nodded to the two men off to the side, pretending that I didn’t overhear part of their conversation.
My heels clicked on the tiled floor as I pushed through the heavy black door, reminding myself that it was perfectly normal for female reporters to be in here. Although hand delivering documents wasn’t part of my job description, but when your boss asked you to do it, you did without question.
The locker room was quieter than I expected. In fact, I didn’t even hear any voices, just the sound of running water somewhere in the distance.
I glanced around the room. Helmets, shoulder pads, and football gear were everywhere. It smelled like a sweaty sock, so I avoided touching anything.
“Nate,” I called out, speaking a little louder and clutching the brown envelope in my hand. My boss’s signature was peeking through the flaps. “The security guard at the front desk said you would be in here. I just need a signature on the contract.”
The door to the shower room opened, and a trail of steam followed. My first thought was that my boss must hate me. There was no other explanation for this.
Nate emerged, fresh from the shower. His hair was damp, with a white towel slung low around his waist.
I swallowed thickly, taking in droplets of water dripping over his sun-kissed chest and trailing down his arms.
“Well, this is new,” he said, adjusting the towel. “I didn’t realize we were doing an interview in the locker room. I thought we were meeting tomorrow.” He snatched another towel from the bench and ran it over his hair.
There was no embarrassment or modesty in his tone. In fact, he was standing there completely relaxed, as if this were no big deal.
While I, on the other hand, was doing my absolute best not to stare.
“I’m not here—” I shook my head, feeling heat crawl up the back of my neck. “It’s—this is just—” I closed my eyes in embarrassment. Jesus Christ. Get a grip. “What I mean to say is, I’m here to get your signature for the interview.”
I was usually good with words. But apparently, they seemed to get all jumbled up when standing in front of a six-foot-two pro football player wrapped in nothing but a white terrycloth towel.
Nate seemed amused. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
