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I feel almost nothing but anger when I think of Brandt. While the shock and hurt that flooded me as I discovered his true nature did affect me, we didn’t date long enough for me to be very emotionally invested. I don’t miss his sorry sack of bones. I do miss the money he took from me, and I miss my work.
When I discovered that Brandt had been stealing from me to pay for his online sports gambling addiction—something I’d known nothing about in the three months we’d been dating—I went to his father, one of the owners of the Wolves. And his response still gives me chills.
Not the good kind of chills. The vicious, unwanted kind. The kind that scare you.
“You’re lying, Oakley. My son would never do that.”
“I have proof, Mr. Bordy.”
“Quit and do so quietly. If you expose what you believe my son did…and I assure you he did not…I’ll have no choice but to sue you and blacklist you. You’ll never get another job with the NFL again.”
Remembering his callousness makes me shiver. I have to work in this field. I paid my dues as an intern and then as an entry-level trainer with the Dallas Cowboys. My step up as one of the lead trainers with the San Antonio Wolves several months ago was a dream come true—I even managed several other trainers. I didn’t do all that just to have it go away with a few clicks into my savings account.
Maybe working with a man like Alec Tate will help me find another job. He doesn’t have to have a miraculous recovery—because, spoiler alert, he won’t.
But if I could help him start to feel better, maybe he could offer an endorsement of sorts. If he could provide a reference to another team, there might be hope of me working in the industry again.
Because I will get my career and my money back.
I cross my arms over my chest, readying myself for battle. “Really? A bet?”
Amusement flickers over his face. “If I agree to the training, I bet you can’t get my knee feeling or moving any better in the four days you’ll be here.”
“And if I do? What will I get?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you helped a poor guy out.” Even as he says it, it’s clear from his face he doesn’t think I’m buying that.
I’m not.
“Oh, please.” I press my fingers against my shoulder. The madness from the last few days is doing a number on my body. “If I improve your knee, you have to provide a reference when I apply for another job.” My pulse jitters in my neck and I feel like I’m falling. Like everything I’ve worked for has been ripped from under me and I’m grabbing at anything I can reach as I go down. “Except, you could just lie and say your knee doesn’t feel any better, even though it will.”
“No. I’ll be honest if there are any improvements. Besides, don’t you guys have ways to track the range of motion.”
Nodding, I twist my mouth to one side. “We can base it off of that, then.”
“And what if nothing changes?” he challenges. “Four days isn’t very long.”
I shrug. “Okay. What do you want if you win?”
He scowls, brushing his knuckle over his upper lip. “Dinner at the Summit. The restaurant upstairs.”
“I’m not interested in that.” I cannot go to dinner with this man who is basically a clone of my ex.
He gives me an expression that readsThems the breaks!But then he smooths his facial features and there’s a soulful yearning in his startlingly blue eyes.
“I understand.” He reaches out a hand. “Look, I’m not trying to be difficult here. I’ve had some bad experiences with physical therapy, so I’m not exactly jumping at the chance to do it again. But my family’s made it clear I need to do something with my knee…and my social life.”
“So going out to dinner because you won a bet counts as a social life?” I scoff. But at his expression, I realize I’m feeling the tiniest bit drawn to him. I don’t have a social life, either. I traveled too much with the team. It’s no wonder I started dating Brandt, the injured, ex-football player and son of an owner with something to prove.
He bobs his head. “It’ll have to do.”
I force a breath into my tight lungs. It’s as if this opportunity has fallen into my lap, and it’s the only option I have to try to work around Mr. Bordy’s forthcoming blackballing. For all I know, he could already be dragging my name through the Texas mud.
I extend my hand so we can shake. “Well, it won’t. Because I’m not going to lose this bet.”
He closes his hand over mine, his grip steady and warm. I feel enveloped in Alec, my hand simultaneously protected and guided by him.
One side of his mouth lifts and his gaze sweeps over me. “Time will tell.”
