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LEAH
Iknow Christmas is still a few weeks away, but I just got my Christmas present early in the form of spending the whole week alone with Brick, away from all the prying eyes of the other football players and staff.
I’ve been working as an athletic trainer for the Hurtsboro Hummingbirds for the last six months, and Brick has probably only said ten words to me during that time. While I can’t keep my mouth shut whenever I’m around him.
I’m sure he thinks I’m just an airhead little girl who wants to bag herself a pro athlete. That's the unfortunate label female athletic trainers have gotten in the world of sports.
How can I even think about looking at another man when Brick is in the room? He’s tall with a thick, broad chest that makes me want to snuggle in and stay there forever.
I’ve tried to get Brick to ask me out since, luckily, there isn’t a no-fraternizing policy in place yet. But he hasn’t picked up on my obvious attempts. Unfortunately, some of the other players have, like Carter, who constantly teases me about my little crush.
One of these days, I will use the athletic tape on Carter’s mouth instead of wrapping his ankles with it.
"Ease up, Leah. I want to be able to feel my toes." I look down at Ryan's foot and realize his toes are starting to turn purple against the white fabric of the athletic tape I'm wrapping around his foot. It's probably not a good thing for the team's Kicker.
“Sorry, Ryan.” I cut the tape off Ryan’s foot with a bandage scissors, grabbed a new roll of tape, and started over. At this rate, the players will be late getting onto the field for the game.
Focus, Leah. I remind myself. I need this job. I can’t risk losing it because I’m daydreaming about the team's sexy center.
“Thanks, Leah. It feels good.” Ryan flexes his taped ankle, trying out the tension of the tape before hopping off the trainer’s table and going to his locker to put on the rest of his uniform and pads.
There's a lull in players needing taped, so I let my eyes wander to Brick sitting on the trainer’s table by the wall, having Doug tape his ankles. Brick has only let me tape his ankles once since I started. The feel of his muscular body under my hands had my mouth watering, and I could barely concentrate on what I was doing. It must have been a lousy tape job because he hasn't let me tape him since.
My eyes slide from his ankle to his leg, cautiously working my way up his thigh to the tight fabric covering the athletic cup strategically placed in the front of his uniform pants, covering the giant bulge I’m dying to explore. What I wouldn’t give to be placed under that center.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning at the thought of Brick's thick chest pinning me down as his arms hold me in place. His hips thrusting in and out of me. My nipples pebbling into stiff peaks just thinking about it. My eyes drift up his massive chest, then land on his handsome face. Only to find his eyes on me.
“Leah, they need you on the sidelines.” One of the assistant coaches’ yells at me, breaking the spell, and I jump.
Getting caught lusting after one of the players is not something I want to have happen. “I’m coming,” I yell back, my voice taking on an airy quality, my eyes still trained on Brick. I watch as his eyes flare wide, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. I realize a second too late how that must have sounded, “I’m, I’ll be right there.”
I grab my supplies and scurry out of the locker room before I can embarrass myself any further.
CHAPTER3
BRICK
"Thanks again, Leah, for agreeing to be my fake date for the wedding." I take her suitcase from her hands and throw it in the rental car's trunk.
“No problem, Brick. Anything to help a friend out.” She smiles at me, and my pulse speeds up until her words sink in—anythingto help a friend out.
And just like that, I’m placed in the friend zone. I slam the trunk a little harder than necessary, stomping to the car's driver's side. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
She slides into the passenger seat, slipping off her snow boots. “I hope you don’t mind.” She glances down at her discarded boots on the floor. “It’s a long drive, and I wanted to get comfortable.”
My eyes roam up her body, and I have to hold in a groan. She’s wearing a pair of those tight, soft pants that hug every one of her curves. An oversized team sweatshirt sliding down one of her shoulders, showing off the soft curve of her neck, completes her outfit.
Her curly red hair, tied up in her trademark messy bun, has me itching to slowly pull out her hair tie and run my fingers through it to see if it really feels as soft as it looks.
She turns her head and smiles at me, “So, I was thinking, if I’m supposed to be your fake girlfriend, I should probably know more about you than your football stats.”
I start the car and put it in drive, “That’s a good idea. I should probably know more about you, too.”
“I made a list of things we should know about each other. It’s in my bag.” The last part of her words is muffled by the backseat. Her sweet backside sticks up in the air, wiggling as she attempts to find whatever it is she is looking for.
I pulled the car out of her driveway with a groan, what I wouldn't give to feel her body wiggling under me.
“Got it!” She holds up a lavender notebook and a matching pen before plopping back down in her seat and securing her seatbelt with a click. She opens the notebook to the first page, tapping her pen to her luscious lips, “First question. Is Brick your real name?”
