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I tossed my bag onto the floor, too tired to care where I threw it, and headed into the kitchen while Rhys made his way into the living room. Reaching into the fridge, I grabbed a beer and twisted the top, gulping half of it down without a breath. I could hear him switch on the sports news channel and cringed when the first thing I heard was my name.
“Do you have to watch that shit?” I yelled around the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, then took another swig.
“I want to see how the league is doing,” he yelled back, meaning Major League Soccer. “Not my fault your ass yelled at the pretty ref and made headlines again.”
I almost spewed the beer from my mouth as I left the kitchen and rounded the corner to see what he was looking at. On the screen was a freeze frame of Charleigh waving her arms to mark a first down, and me standing behind her on the sidelines looking like I would kill her if I had the chance.
“Fuck, they’re just searching for a story,” I mumbled. That was all they wanted from me, and I was close to giving it to them. Charleigh had a lot of nerve talking to me the way she did on the sidelines, but I would give her credit because the whistle in her mouth made it impossible to read her lips.
The indescribable rage I felt toward her was having the opposite effect I had hoped it would. A mad man emerged from me after our last game, and I blew into her locker room without even thinking of repercussions. Seeing her in her bra didn't stop me either, hell I had seen more of her than that before.
A lot more.
Instinct had taken over my body and holding her against the wall had been mindless. Except for my dick, he seemed to know exactly what we were doing and who we were with. He seemed to have a mind of his own.
I listened for a minute while the TV announcers droned on about their “insight” into the body language and frustrations I had toward Charleigh. Only after they all agreed that I was treating her like I would every other referee did I unclench my fist and lower my tight shoulders. I turned and headed to my room, mumbling under my breath about how they didn’t know shit.
I was definitely not treating her like every other referee because not once had I slammed one against a wall and got hard against their body.
Fuck.
I needed another shower.
Chapter9
Charleigh
“Yo Charleigh,” Bobby called for me as I was getting ready to leave Friday. “I got something for ya.”
I lifted my head to give him my attention but continued the process I had started of shoving my gym clothes into a bag. “What's up?”
“Monday afternoon, my buddy Al needs someone for a spar. Who ya got?”
“Weight class?”
“Two-twenty.”
“Age?”
“He said it didn't matter.”
I looked around at the near empty gym, trying to think of who was there earlier and may want a workout. I had only become a part of the ring because of my brother, but after a while, I became good at getting guys to focus and fight. Two-twenty was too heavy for me to fight, but I was tempted to accept just to have an excuse to hit someone.
“You know Sisco is looking for a fight. Or even Bond. Axton is working with the kids Monday so he's out.”
“Yeah, Sisco. It will be good to spar with another gym. I can work with him this weekend to get him ready.” Sisco was on parole and loved to hang out at the gym. He was one of Bobby’s free customers just to give him a place to go to stay out of trouble.
“I’ll be here Monday to cheer him on.”
“I’ll need you to call it,” Bobby added and pointed at me.
“Of course.”
* * *
Monday came and I felt refreshed. Not having to be at the stadium and subjected to Coach Peyton’s wrath was nice. It made me rethink why I ever wanted to be a professional football official in the first place.
Then I remembered I wouldn’t be having those issues if I didn't sleep with the one coach, I had to have standing behind me every Sunday. I had no way of foreseeing that in my future when I made my career plans.
