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“I told you. You’re my new striker. I need to know what it’s going to take to get you on my team. I’m on a mission to woo you.”
“This isn’t about last night?”
He shot me a puzzled glance. “Last night? What about last night?”
He doesn’t know. Oh, thank God. He doesn’t know.
I’d got away with it. I stiffened my spine to stop my shoulders from slumping with relief.
He peered past me again. “It won’t take long.”
“Fine.” I stepped inside and ushered him into the living room.
He looked around with undisguised interest, his gaze roving over the wheelchair, the commode, and the bed with rails we’d set up ready for Mum downstairs. He crossed to the window and propped a finger in the blind, pulling it down to look outside at the surrounding red-brick terraced houses.
“I’m investing in Calverdale Ladies and I want you for the team. This time next year you could be in the Women’s Super League. With the right coaching, you could be playing for England in the World Cup. I’m offering you the dream. I need to know why you don’t want it. Whatever the problem is, I will solve it.”
I folded my arms. “Maybe there isn’t a problem. Maybe I’m happy where I am.”
He leaned casually against the window frame. “No. You’re not. No athlete is happy with mediocrity. Go and bring your boyfriend in here. See if he can talk some sense into you.”
“My boyfriend?”
“The man in the glasses. He looks like he irons his underpants.”
I pulled a face. “Reece? That’s my brother.”
“You live with your brother?”
“Yes, and my mum.”
“All three of you in this one house?”
“Five of us, actually. My younger brother and sister are at university.”
His gaze roved over me; his voice was casual, but his green eyes held a gleam of interest. “No boyfriend? … Girlfriend?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
A smirk ghosted his lips. He sauntered to the mantelpiece and picked up a snow globe. He looked at it curiously as he shook it. “I want you. Give me a reason why you’re so resistant and I’ll leave you in peace. You won’t get me out of here until you tell me.”
Bloody hell. The man didn’t give up. “Fine. The problem is Jerry Reynolds.”
He spun to face me. His burning eyes held me still. “Jerry? The development officer?” He slid gracefully into an armchair. “What’s wrong with Jerry?”
“He’s a pervert and a bully. He scouts women for the Junior Academy, but his behavior is inappropriate. He stalked one of my friends … texting her … turning up at her workplace. When she complained, the club turned a blind eye. They’d rather cover for him than listen to the women he harassed. When she complained she was told he’d be investigated, but nothing changed. We were all supposed to ignore him like a pervy old uncle at Christmas dinner. It’s unacceptable.”
He watched me, cold and businesslike. A million miles away from the relaxed, open Gabe from last night. He didn’t have a clue that it had been me in that room with him. He didn’t have the same hungry, interested gleam in his eyes as he appraised me now. This Gabe was a shark out for blood, and I was an un-fuckable woman standing in the way of something he needed. A target to manipulate. A prickle of anger made me stiffen my spine. He had another thing coming if he thought I’d roll over like a puppy.
He sat still, his eyes narrow. “If Jerry is a problem, then he’s gone.”
I held his gaze. It wasn’t enough. Jerry needed to be shamed and prosecuted. Not sent off to retire with a golden handshake. It was the principle of the matter.
“I complained about him, and I was dismissed from the junior coaching program. I was blacklisted. I couldn’t get a spot on any decent coaching program. The only way I can play is in the part-time leagues. We were told that an investigation was being conducted.” I glanced away. “It wasn’t. He ruined my career before it had begun, and countless other girls’, too.”
He leaned back on the couch, studying me with curious intensity. Silence fell between us. Tingling lit the pit of my stomach.
“That’s why you don’t play at a higher level?” he asked quietly.
