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Being the center of attention for any man should send me running but damn if he wasn't such a golden retriever; I couldn't help but feel like we could be friends.
I wouldn't entertain the thought of anything more. Not yet at least.
My phone pinged and I pulled it out to see Dad checking in.
Dad: Did you find the list on my desk? It has check boxes just for you.
Rolling my eyes, I typed back an answer. He was more overbearing than usual right now. I couldn't blame him. Seeing your kid go through something like that would be startling for anyone.
Me: Heading in now.
Me: Found it.
I swept the clipboard and pen off the desk where he said he left it and started reading it over as I tucked my phone back in my shorts. Even with the ice, I knew I'd be hot as heck in no time. They didn't have an equipment manager or any kind of inventory person… this was going to be a mess.
Dad was great at what he did but he needed help and hated asking for it. If I didn't need to find a job I don't think he would have ever gotten someone to fill this spot.
Grabbing my ear buds out of my bag I put them in and kicked on my favorite punk rock playlist. I couldn't go wrong with a little Andy Black in my ears as I worked.
Humming to myself, I started going through the list in the equipment room, making sure the guys' gear was accounted for first. Davis, Sanchez, Williams, Graves, Walker, Rhodes, the list went on, one by one according to position then down to the extras.
It took nearly an hour to get through the first half of the list, making sure no broken or crappy equipment was left and making notes of what needed repair or replacement.
As I moved to dusting and clean up... because it was indesperateneed of it, my favorite song came on. With a dust rag in one hand and spray in the other, I danced around carefree, singing along, likely off key, as I kept working.
Finding myself again feels good.
* * *
Brock
The sound of soft singing echoed out of the equipment room door and curiosity got the best of me. I pushed it open slowly to see Macy dancing around as she cleaned. She sang to herself and shook her ass as she sprayed the shelves, doing a little shimmy before swiping it clean.
My cock twitched as I watched her well-rounded ass shake and her hips sway as she let herself enjoy the moment. She even went as far as using the spray bottle as a microphone, hitting a high note that was downright impressive.
This was Macy.
Not the girl cowering in the basement of that wrecked house.
Anger pooled in my gut at the reminder of that asshole. I wanted to kill him for Coach.
When he barked at us to come with him to get his daughter, something in his voice told me he needed us. Not one of us hesitated. Coach was family... the kind that wanted the best for you and pushed you to your limits, but family nonetheless.
My mouth went dry as she bent over to get the lower shelf, giving me a shot of her ass peeking out of her low-cut shorts and her thick thighs on display. Fuck, I wanted to bury myself inside her.
She stood up and turned, letting out a scream at the sight of me.
"Holy fucking shit, dude!" she gasped, clutching her chest and taking heaving breaths that only made her large breasts catch my attention as they rose and fell with each breath.
Fuck, I had to stop myself.
"Sorry, I heard something and had to stop myself from joining in with backup vocals," I teased with a lazy smirk, leaning against the door frame and crossing my arms over my chest.
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know the words to this?"
"Hey, you don't know what I listen to," I defended.
She walked over, with more confidence than I'd witnessed in a long time. Fuck, I loved that ‘give no fucks’ attitude.
