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“Yeah, actually it is. I’ve been a little busy and haven’t had a chance to get out and look for a place of my own just yet.”
“Oh. That makes sense. Don’t you have people for that?”
“I’m not going to have somebody else find a place for me to live.” He manages to sound offended. “I’m the one who has to live here.”
“Yeah, okay. I get that.”
We both fall silent and look at each other. I came storming in here with such a head of steam up, but now that I’m staring into those deep, rich blue eyes, all the anger that fueled me seems to have evaporated. I give my head a shake and try to gather my wits about me again.
“What are you doing here, Cami?” he asks softly.
“I came to find out why you’re ignoring me.”
“Coach Blankenship—I mean, your father—told me to stay away from you. He said he’d cut me if I didn’t.”
My mouth turns dry, and his words feel like a punch to the gut that leaves me breathless. I look up at Carter, suddenly not sure what to say.
“I-I didn’t mean to keep that from you, Carter. You have to believe me.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me your father is my coach?”
“It just never really came up, I guess.”
“You had plenty of opportunities. I mean, you told me you were born into the game and have been around it all your life. And your father being the coach of the team I’m playing on didn’t come up? That seems like something that should have come up.”
“That’s fair. I just… he’s made such a point of making sure I don’t disclose our relationship to anybody. It’s just not something I talk about. It’s not on purpose. It’s just second nature now.”
“Why doesn’t he want people to know you’re his daughter? Coaches hire family members all the time. It’s not like it’s unprecedented.”
“He’s built a reputation on making people earn what they get,” I tell him. “He’s afraid people will see me being with the team as nepotism. That I didn’t earn it. He’s afraid it will undermine his brand.”
“That’s ridiculous. Seriously. That’s fucking stupid. I mean, if you were competing for a roster spot, I might understand. There are only so many of those. But you’re with the training staff. There isn’t a set number of trainers we can have.”
A bitter laugh bursts from my mouth. “You know that and I know that. Try telling my dad that, though. He’s afraid the appearance of impropriety will look bad.”
“Did he hire you?”
“No. Jordan Murray, the head trainer, hired me,” I reply. “My dad didn’t know I even applied until I surprised him on my first day. But he’s afraid people are going to think he gave me special treatment anyway and asked me to keep our relationship quiet.”
“That’s… stupid.”
A wry smile twists my lips. “It is. But I also understand it. My dad has devoted his life to whichever team he’s coaching. He puts all of himself into it, and everything he does is for the good of the team. I understand and believe in what he does. The last thing I want is to be a problem. So, for the good of the team, I go along. Whenever anybody asks, I use my mother’s maiden name.”
Carter slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and he looks down at the ground, his expression softening. I can still feel that wall between us, though. He’s still reluctant to defy my father and be with me even though I can tell by the look on his face that being apart has been as hard on him as it’s been on me.
“I’m a grown woman, Carter. He doesn’t get to say who I can and can’t be with.”
A sad smile touches his lips. “He does so long as he’s the one making the roster. And this might be my last shot at a winner, Cami. I don’t?—”
“My father doesn’t have to know. He won’t know.”
“I’m not going to ask you to keep another secret.”
“It’s my choice. You’re not asking me to do anything.”
I step over to him and lay my hands flat on his chest. His body is tense. Taut. But his eyes burn with the same desire I saw in his car at Mac's. The air between us crackles with that same sense of anticipation and electricity. Carter's breath catches in his throat. But then he shakes his head, takes hold of my wrists, and starts to step away.
I shake his hands off and grab the front of his t-shirt then pull him down, kissing him almost violently. He grabs the side of my face and turns me around, pinning me up against the wall as he kisses me harder. His tongue swirls forcefully around mine, hands sliding down to my breasts. He cups and kneads them through the fabric of the sweatshirt, his kiss growing hotter and even more frantic.
