“I don’t know if that’s insulting or not.” He frowned, giving me a hard look.
“Ah, now you know how I feel most of the time.” I chuckled, fluffing up my pillow to get ready for a long, peaceful nap. I splurged and bought better headphones that would hopefully block out the shitty music.
“I don’t insult you. Do you really think that?”
“Brock, you told me I look like I’m in high school.” I tilted my head to the side and widened my eyes. “That is an insult.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked worried. “You have a fresh face.”
“Hmm.” I eyed him, deciding if I accepted his words or not. “Once again, fresh is not a compliment or an insult. It’s confusing, actually.”
“It’s a compliment. Damn it, woman. You’re beautiful,” he said, jaw tensing as his eyes widened. I blushed, the admittance causing an awkward giggle to escape my throat.
“Thank you. However, you look like that was the hardest thing you’ve ever said.”
“You are,” he paused and shook his head. “I’m watching something funny.” He dismissed me, pulling out an iPad.
I chuckled at his discomfort. I closed my eyes, leaning against the pillow and only managed to sleep an hour before laughter woke me up. It was robust and contagious. I opened my eyes, a smile forming from the vivacious sound, to see Brock shaking with laughter at whatever he was watching on the iPad. I leaned over, peeking at his screen but couldn’t tell. He saw me, pausing the show and removing his earbuds. “What’s up?”
“What has you cackling like a hyena?”
“Did I wake you?” His lips turned down a bit. “My bad.”
“You did, but it was a hell of a laugh. What are you watching?”
“Key and Peele. They are this—”
“Yes. I know them.” I smiled and quoted one of their best comedy sketches of all time. “A-A-RON.”
“Yes.” He laughed, holding out an earbud for me. “Want to watch?”
“Now, I do.” I scooted closer, our thighs now pressed together entirely. I kept the pillow on my lap as a shield. It didn’t protect me from anything about him, but it did give me a piece of mind. “What had you laughing like a lunatic, though?”
“Have you seen the sketch when he goes to buy a mattress?” His eyes danced, and his mouth curved into that perfect smile again. “Holy shit, I lost it.”
“No. I don’t think I’ve seen it. I want to watch.”
“Let me rewind it.”
And, we watched it. I laughed a normal amount where Brock lost his ever-loving shit again. He howled, eyes watering at the stupid sketch. “Good lord, are you all right?”
“Yes. Sorry.” He laughed again, his eyes widening.
“You should watch the one where the dude can’t laugh. Trust me.” He handed me the device, and I scanned for the specific episode. Once it played, Brock lost his shit all over again.
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “You have the best laugh.”
He took a couple of breaths before looking at me again. “I do not.”
“You do,” I said, not leaving any room for argument.
His expression softened for just a second before he said, “I’m glad you’re volunteering with me.”
My heart warmed again, and I matched his grin. “I think I’m glad, too.”
“Yeah?” His brows raised. “I knew you would.”
“Don’t ruin the moment, Brock.”
“Nah, I won’t. Honestly, I’m getting excited for it. I think my dad is going to help out too. I hung out with him yesterday and told him all about it. It would be only about eight nights. All these talks we have keep making me think about my next steps, moving to the NFL level. I don’t know. It’s crazy to think about.” His gaze darted from my face, to the window, and back to me.
“I’ve never considered it a legit possibility. It might suck. I might not be ready.” He sighed and closed his eyes.
“One step at a time, my friend.” I put my hand on his arm, the injured one and gently squeezed it. “It’s not like you could make any major changes this season, so take the next year to think about next steps. You’re ready, Brock. The question is if you want to take that leap or not.”
“Yeah.” He scratched his head, looking uncomfortable and happy at the same time. “Okay. Enough about that. More about you. What experience do you have with young athletes?”
“Little to none besides some clinicals in high school. I like the concept of observing younger athletes, seeing them from the beginning stages to the more advanced. I’ll be able to witness progress in different ages,” I said, noting his rapt attention. It made me nervous when he looked at me like that, like every word I said mattered. I needed to ease the tension. “
“Brock, I was teasing you. You looked tense.” I rolled my eyes. “You baboon.”
“You seem to insult me a lot.” He frowned, fluffing the pillow in between us. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“It’s good for you. People are too nice to you.” I sighed, positioning the pillow so I could lay down. “I’m attempting to nap again. Don’t interrupt me with your ridiculous giggle.”
“I sure as hell don’t giggle, and no promises.”
I screamed. I jumped up and down, not giving a shit about my knee or how cool I looked. We won, with ten seconds left on the clock. Forgetting this was a job, I shouted and threw my fists into the air. I wasn’t alone. The entire staff was in the air with the players, chanting and screaming echoing as they made their way into the locker room. Screw getting ice and checking arms, I was celebrating.
The adrenaline poured throughout the locker room and leaked down the hall. It was testosterone central. Coaches cheered, hugging everyone in sight. I had never seen grown men look so stupid. Most of the players were jumping up and down with chants and in various stages of dress. It was unreal. I took it all in, the smell of Gatorade and sweat, the echoing of their voices, and the pure joy that radiated from them all. It was a memorable experience, that was for sure.
Voices carried down the hall, and Brock brought bags of ice and wore a huge smile.
I ran up to him and took some of the bags off his arm. He was carrying too many with his right arm even though his face showed no pain. “Where you dropping them off?”
“Over there.” He tilted his head back toward the locker room. “Heads up, this will be insanity.”
“Wait, really? Everyone is so happy.” I bit my lip, not seeing at all how this was going to be difficult. The atmosphere was ecstatic. What could go wrong?
“Yeah, you’ll see in a second.”
An hour and a half later, I was annoyed beyond my wits measure. It took twice as long to make sure everyone was iced, taped, and checked up. They talked, danced around, undressed in slow stages that made me blush at least ten times. I had seen more chests, asses, and front junk than I ever needed to see. The joy and awe I felt walking into that locker room seemed like a distant memory. My hands were numb from holding ice for an hour, and I sat on one of the empty benches. Even after that shit show, the coach still had to meet with all of them before they set free these amped up college guys on this poor town.
“So, how you doing?” Brock’s voice held nothing back. He was laughing his ass off at my expression.
“Piss off.” I wiped my hand on the back of my black athletic pants. “You knew.”
“Oh, yeah.” He joined me on the bench with our legs touching. His scent overwhelmed me again, my body wanting to crawl into his lap. “You handled it well.”
“Ha!” I turned to see his amused eyes. “I almost threw myself on Q to have him stay put. Then Cooper took the bag of ice and dumped it all over another player. Zach. God. He kept dancing the entire time I tried to wrap his ankle. It was a freaking mess.”
“Always is after an amazing win.” He patted my knee, letting his fingers linger a little too long.
My stomach swooped.
“Now, they are all going to hit the town
, get drunk, and be pieces of shit tomorrow morning.”
“And the coaches?” I winced, unable to believe the drinking was allowed or that they didn’t care their players were going to make asses out of themselves.
“It’s more of a don’t ask, don’t tell sort of thing. He knows they drink, but they also know if they mess anything up, they can lose it all. Most of the guys want to go hook up with a girl and have a couple beers. It’s not like the movies where they go clubbing and sleep with five chicks.”
“First off, no one thinks that.” I made a face of disgust. “Plus, no guy could get it up that many times.”
His face blanked at my challenge, and I stood up with a laugh. I put my hand on his shoulder, the left one, and tsked. “I have no doubt some of your past stories could prove me wrong, but you’re all into being gentlemanly and shit, and frankly I don’t wanna hear it.”
“You know, you’re kind of an asshole, too, Grace.” He chuckled, standing up with me. “Are you going to go hang out with your buddy tonight?” He sneered the word buddy, damn well knowing I was not going clubbing with Logan.
“I still don’t get your reservation with my friendship with him. He is good people.”
“He is young and stupid,” he said, grim face.
“He’s allowed to be young and stupid. He’s single, working for a college football team, and has no responsibilities. I’d be stupid, too if I had that luxury.” I gave him a pointed look and continued. “Plus, he’s also fun and kind.”
“Fun and kind are the things you’re into?” he asked, his face way too serious for this conversation.
“In friends, yes,” I answered, skeptical of his intentions. “That does make me question my friendship with you. You do make me laugh, but kind is hit or miss.”
He grunted in response and turned away. Score one for me. The ongoing battle we have had going for months had to be somewhere in the middle now, right? He picked up the bags of equipment, and I took two of them myself. I was not excited about the bus ride to the hotel. Crazy was going to be the tame end of it. So, without talking we walked to the bus and were assaulted with dance moves, chants, clothes being thrown, music blaring, and a lot of high fives and bro hugs. I found my seat in the front and took in the atmosphere. Did I want this? Or did I want to help kids? Or did I want to be a waitress and not worry about this? I had no idea.
“You never answered my question,” Brock said as soon as he sat, his thigh touching mine because he was so massive.
“About what, exactly?”
“Are you going to hang with your buddy?”
I decided to toy with him because, hell, I was kind of an asshole, too. Plus, it was so much fun. I sucked in my bottom lip, frowning and taking my time answering. “I think I might. He said the party he was heading to was going to have Jell-O wrestling, and it wouldn’t be weird if I wore this. I heard girls do it naked anyway.”
“You’re joking.”
“I don’t know. I’m just looking for a good time.”
“I know you’re teasing, but I still hate every word that you just said,” he said, humor gone.
“Um, I’m a three-time champion of Jell-O wrestling.” I bit back a laugh, loving his frown. “I really found my calling my freshmen year. It was cherry Jell-O, and I only had a swimsuit.”
He leaned toward me, eyes blazing. “Do you like frustrating me?”
“Immensely so, yes.” I laughed. “I’m clearly lying. You’re too easy.” I searched my bag for my phone to put on my music, and he released a long groan. “Honestly, Brock, who cares if I wanted to do that? I can still be young and free. I’m sure you’ve done stupid things.”
“Of course, you can, Grace,” he mumbled. “And yeah, I have. You’re better than I was at your age, that’s for damn sure.”
I snuck a peek at him and saw his pained face. I felt a little bad then, but he had no right to act all fatherly. “Note to self: Anderson is sensitive about Jell-O wrestling conversations.”
“I heard that.”
“I meant you to,” I said, nudging his shoulder. He slowly took off the headphones, giving me a lazy look that sent waves of heat through me. “So, do we head back to the hotel? If you have plans you can go do what you need to do. I’m a dork and looked up beforehand that this hotel has a hot tub.”
His head jerked to mine, his expressive face stone serious. “You brought a swimming suit?”
“Yes?” I asked, unsure why he looked like I told him pigs fly. “You know, the thing you wear when you go in water?”
“Smartass.” He laughed, his cheek twitching a bit before he turned to look at me. “I was going to say we should go grab a beer somewhere.”
“Oh, I like that idea, too.”
“I figured you might. We can walk to a pub or just hang out at the hotel bar. I’m laid back despite what you think, so it’s your call.”
“Hotel bar it is. Anything to stay in my yoga pants wins for me every time.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Playful Brock was back, lord help me.
An hour later, after surviving the bus ride back to the hotel, Brock and I sat with Logan and Chris at the bar with tall amber ales in big glasses. I took a swig, moaning at how cold and good it tasted. My neck tingled, and I met Brock’s stare. I winked at him over my glass. His surprised reaction made it totally worth it.
“I feel high as fuck right now,” Logan said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I need to find a pretty girl and release all this energy.”
“Why didn’t you head out to the clubs?” I asked, earning a grin from Brock. “I’m sure you could use Tinder or whatever apps you use for ass.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course, I could Grace.” Logan huffed, then turned his full Logan charm on me and lowered his voice. “Sometimes, the chase is more fun than the action. Tinder is too easy. Have you seen my face? Very few people don’t accept me.”
“God, you’re cocky.” He did make me laugh though. He was quite pretty for a man, almost every woman that passed by did a double, or triple take.
“Please. You know what it’s like with a face like yours.” He motioned to my face with his beer, and my entire body turned red. “I’m sure you get hit on all the damn time, and you don’t even know it.”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
Chris and Logan shared a look and snorted. I looked up to see Brock’s jaw tight as hell, but his eyes were on the gentleman standing at the bar looking right at me. I gulped. Wow. He was good looking. Logan whistled and said, “Twelve o’clock, girl.”
“Uh.” I blinked a couple of times, unsure what to do. “This isn’t a norm for me.”
“Normally, you go talk to the poor bloke,” Logan said, laughing and hitting the table. “Come on, Grace. Don’t be a chicken.”
“I’m not a chicken. I’m content hanging with you guys,” I said, avoiding Brock’s eyes. They burned into me, and that awkward zing came back. Logan’s mouth parted in disgust, and he hit my shoulder.
“Grace, you’ve been single like a Pringle for a while. Are you still on that babble of switching to the girls’ team?” Logan asked.
Chris spit out some of his beer.
I gave them both a pointed look. “You’re the worst. No. I’m not.” I had nothing to lose. Brock radiated anger. I still had yet to look at him, but his silence and stiff posture told me enough.
“I’m not the worst. What are friends for? To push you. To challenge you. Now go, you butterfly.” He waved his hand in the direction of the good-looking man and shoved my stool out from my ass.
I regretted looking at Brock the moment I did. He had no right to look at me like that. Like I meant something to him as more than a friend. Those haunted, blue eyes pierced my soul, but it was not the time. I smoothed down my jacket, put on a fake smile, and walked over to the guy at the bar. He nodded encouragingly at me as I approached. My shirt felt too tight, and my palms sweat. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” he said with a blindingly white sm
ile. “I’m glad you came over here. I have to say, you are with a group of intimidating men.”
I looked back at them, avoiding Brock’s eyes and focusing on Logan’s thumbs up. “Yeah, they are a bunch of intimidating guys. They are goofballs though.”
“I’m Rick, by the way.” He held out his hand. I shook it, blushing at the perusal he gave me. “Do you work for the football team?”
“Sort of,” I paused, awkwardly albeit. “I’m interning for them this year as one of the athletic training staff.”
“Wow. That’s impressive.” He smiled warmly at me, eyeing the bar. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. Thank you.” I joined him on the stool, feeling out of my element. “I’m Grace, by the way.”
“Hmm. That fits you,” he said way too smoothly. “You have a face for a Grace.”
“Wow. Did you just come up with that one, or was it waiting on the backburner?” I asked without thinking how that made me look.
He winced for a second, then recovered with a practiced move. Strike one.
“You’re witty.” He ordered me a beer, without asking what kind. I didn’t like that. “So, Grace, is football what brings you to this town?”
“Yes. We just won a game here.” I eyed the pale ale, not a huge fan of them, but I also didn’t know the lines of what was rude or not. I wish I made a signal with Logan to come save me. “What brings you here?”
“Work,” he said, downing the rest of his drink and leaning on the bar with his elbow. The bartender passed him another.
I looked back at the table when Rick took a swig and saw Chris and Logan talking, but Brock’s gaze was on me. I made a face at him, making my eyes go wide and jerking my head toward the bar, hoping he knew that it meant I wanted to be rescued. I hated that I needed an out, but I felt way too awkward to end this. “Ah, beer is the remedy for life.”
“That’s what they say. So, what do you do?”
His eyes kept drifting to my mouth and face, and my stomach soured. He licked his lips with a gross exaggeration.
“I’m in sales.” He took another swig. I twisted my hands, still not taking a sip of the beer because I didn’t feel comfortable and wanted to get the hell away. I sighed, pushing myself off the bar and noticing his eyes widen. “What are you doing?”
Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1) Page 18