Team Niklas (The Saints Team #3)

by Ally Adams

  Nik visibly relaxed and breathed out. He smiled at me. “Shayne got it wrong on the stats sheet when he was doing all my early profile stuff… translation problem.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, suspiciously. “And why haven’t we fixed it?”

  Nik grinned before answering. “Because Lucas and the boys wanted to leave it… it cheeses The Russian off—he likes to think he’s the tallest in the club.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “You guys are so competitive. So what are you?”

  “Six-foot-three, plenty big enough,” he said, suggestively.

  I bit my lower lip as I stopped to study him and gave him just the hint of a nod.

  “I’m changing it,” I said.

  “Spoil sport.” He took the coffee from me and thanked me. “You look very cute. You have a good body,” he said, his gaze travelling over the black leggings and black hoodie I had changed into after my workout. My white socked feet were probably the highlight.

  I laughed. “You’re so direct. Well, Nik, you have a good body too.”

  “Want to see it?” he asked.

  More than you’ll ever know buddy, but I didn’t say that. I smiled at him. “Have you eaten?”

  “I wasn’t hungry before.”

  “Crap, Nik, bad, very bad,” I scolded him, “you’ve got to eat, you can’t train the amount you do if you’re not balancing your diet. The coach and Doc would kick your butt if they knew that you haven’t eaten, then kick mine.”

  He shrugged. “It was a disrupted week.”

  I sighed. “I know, I’m sorry after the nose bleed incident, and the punch, and the eviction from the press conference.”

  “The waves weren’t good either,” he said, with the hint of a smile. “But that wasn’t your fault.” He moved closer to me again and this time I let him. There was this weird current running between us. I swear all my hairs were standing on end. He put a hand either side of me on the counter and looked down at me. “Sah-sha, I would take a black eye for you any day as long as I was your boyfriend.”

  I smiled up at him. Tall, all that muscle, tough on the ground, gentle in bed allegedly, and so sure of what he wants. I’m not sure I’ve met anyone like Nik; I think we were both loners, only he was more trusting than I was.

  “I don’t want you ever taking a hit for me Nik. Now focus, the rest of the team would have eaten the equivalent to a small Italian village in pasta by now—you have to eat, have to have some protein and carbohydrates,” I said, giving him a lecture.

  “I’m feeling hungrier now,” he agreed. “See, you’re good for me already. Have you eaten?”

  “I had a liquid dinner,” I said, nodding towards the remaining chardonnay in my glass.

  He frowned. “Not good enough. Come on, we’ll go get something.”

  “I have ingredients here, we can cook,” I said. “Homemade will be better for you.” I went to my pantry and pulled out some whole-wheat pasta, a tin of tomatoes and pointed to the freezer, directing Nik to get the ground beef, and we got to work.

  “You have a lot in your freezer for a single person,” Nik said, with just a hint of suspicion in his voice. How can someone that gorgeous and successful be so insecure?

  “I have three brothers and a male best friend,” I reminded him. “Every time they drop in, they just happen to be hungry, so I’m well stocked.”

  We cooked next to each other and I set aside some beef for Prada even though he had eaten.

  “Your brother, is that the one you had your hand on?” he asked, in between sips of his coffee.

  Ah, so he did see that.

  “That’s him. That’s Ethan,” I said. “You should have come over and I would have introduced you.”

  “I thought that might be uncomfortable for you if he was your boyfriend. Do your brothers look like triplets?” Nik asked.

  “Two look really alike—Jason and Sam. They look like Saffron, with the dark hair and brown eyes. Ethan and I look similar,” I said. “We’re close.” I cast a glance towards Nik.

  “Tell me about your family,” I pushed him again. He went to open his mouth and I jumped in. “And don’t say there’s nothing to tell… I’ve told you about mine, you have to give now.”

  “Can I have a glass of water?” he stalled.

  “Of course. I’ve got juice too, so help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge.” I reached for a tall glass and gave it to him. It was nice cooking beside him in the kitchen; I was acutely aware of the space he filled and I knew he felt it too. He forgot his train of thought each time he came within inches of me. Or he was in fear of his life… whichever.

  He filled up a glass with water, gulped some down and returned to stirring the beef while I boiled the pasta. I waited, not really patiently and tried hard not to ask the question again.

  “This is ready, I think Sah-sha,” he said, putting some ground beef on the wooden spoon for me to taste. I tried it and agreed.

  “I have to do the pasta test,” I said. With a fork, I picked out a strand of pasta from the boiling pot of water and threw it against the kitchen splash-back tiles. The pasta stuck there.

  “What the fuck?” Nik laughed, surprised.

  “It’s ready,” I said, “that’s how you can tell.”

  “Right,” he said, and laughed again.

  I grabbed two bowls and drained the pasta, directing him to the cutlery and napkins; he seemed to remember from our noodle night.

  Still no talk of his family—what’s that about?

  I dished up a massive serve for him and a medium serve for me. I sprinkled grated fresh cheese on top, put Prada’s bowl of beef on the kitchen floor and we moved to sit in the lounge on the sofa—I never ate at the table, oh yeah, that’s because I didn’t have one.

  “This is great,” Nik said, alternating between his glass of water and the pasta. “Thank you, Sah-sha.”

  “My pleasure. Now if you have a bad training session tomorrow it’s got nothing to do with me,” I said, wiping my hands of all responsibility. “So Nik, why don’t you tell me something about your family? What’s going on? Think I don’t notice that you haven’t shared?”

  He continued to eat and attempted to look out the window, but could see only a bit of the night sky and the room reflected through the partially opened blind.

  “I have no family,” he said.

  I nodded. “No family still alive or no family you want to speak of?”

  “I’m a Waise, um, an orphan,” he translated the German word.

  I felt a wave of sadness for Nik; here was I talking about being from a big family—both parents who loved me, a twin with a special bond and three brothers, and Nik was alone in the world. I didn’t push it any further.

  “Lucky you met me and I have a big family then,” I said, “we might just have to adopt you.”

  He smiled and looked at me for the first time since the discussion started. I began to think Nik was a lot more complex than I first thought and I was going to scratch below that hunky surface gradually.

  *****

  To my surprise Nik didn’t suggest he’d stay the night; I guess all his gear was at home and he had to be at training early. Maybe he thought he had to tread a little slow and if he tried it on I’d pull back... I’m not sure I would. But he did help with the dishes.

  “I’m glad you texted me,” he said taking a plate from me and wiping it.

  “Me too,” I said, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  Nik gave me a smile and flicked the tea towel across my butt. “So your brother and these friends you were with the other night, just friends, no boyfriend hiding under your bed?” he said, with a glance upstairs.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No boyfriend,” I assured him. I saw his lip curl slightly in a smile. I suspect Nik was thinking he was back in the game and I was feeling pretty glad he was and freaked out too.

  “What about you, Nik,” I dried my hands and turned to face him. “You go out after the game and I know y
ou pick up. Anyone that you’ve had back for seconds?”

  He looked a little confused.

  “Anyone that you’ve been seeing regularly,” I clarified.

  “No. After a match it’s good to wind down with the team, especially when we win. I don’t stay too late though, it’s a long day.”

  “Yeah but don’t you usually head home from the bar with someone?” I asked, teasing him. “I can’t reveal my sources but someone I know overheard some ladies talking at the bar and they said you were a ‘sensitive lover’,” I said, making quote marks in the air and not telling on Alice who heard the convo. Lucky she told me before Nik and I hooked up because she wouldn’t have spilled that otherwise.

  I wonder what sensitive means? I hope he’s manly, I like them manly—I don’t want any lover crying after an orgasm for godsake!

  He hesitated answering. “I won’t be going home with anyone if I’m with you, Sah-sha. I think you are determined to think the worst of me.”

  His words stopped me. I watched his mouth, his beautiful mouth usher those words with just a tightening of his lips as though my thoughts of him were undeserved. Was I doing that, looking for his faults and failures so I could make excuses to pull away from him? That’s sort of what Ethan said too, as if I’m always looking out for an out.

  “It not that, it’s okay, I know players are players,” I said, taking the towel from him as we finished.

  “I’m not a player if I’m in a relationship.”

  “Okay,” I said, “well when you’re in a relationship you can behave.”

  He pulled me close again. “You’re pushing me away again. I’m not a player in a relationship, Sah-sha.” He said it more slowly this time.

  I looked away. Nik was always so direct that he caught me off guard sometimes. I didn’t always have reactions prepared. He lifted my chin to make me look him in the eyes.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying about us?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Good. I have to go.” He leaned down to kiss me again. This time his tongue ventured in between my lips ever so slightly and I felt my breathing hitch. Fuck this man was hot and I was way too vulnerable for this.

  He moved away and breathed out. “You’re a trouble maker, Sah-sha.” He shook his head at me. “Now I have a huge erection,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  I laughed as he broke the tension. “It appears you do,” I agreed looking down at the tight press in his jeans.

  “At least I am still in one piece. Good night, meine Süsse.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, my eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  “My sweetie or sweetheart,” he said, with a cheeky look. He went to the table, grabbed his jacket, and put it on.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been called sweet or...” I tried pronouncing it, “sues-sza.”

  “Good. Then it is my unique name for you. Unless we go to Germany and everyone says it there.”

  If I was a really considerate host, I would have offered to relieve him of that hard package in his jeans—and maybe baked a cake.

  “Night Nik, drive safely, keep your hands on the wheel,” I told him, and he laughed. “Think unsexy thoughts like training early in cold water, or The Russian giving you a rub down.” Even that had me wincing at the thought.

  He smiled and shook his head at me as I followed him to the door.

  “I will see you tomorrow night for dinner, yeah? I’ll book somewhere nice, pick you up at seven.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Lock this door,” he said, as he opened it and moved into the hallway. I nodded and we held each other’s gaze just long enough to make me super wet. He reached out and with his large hand, cupped one side of my face for just a moment, and then he smiled and walked away. I think I just melted to the spot.

  “Lock the door,” he called back from the stairwell.

  “Yes sir,” I snapped, closing and locking the door. I pressed my forehead against the door and breathed out. A man without a family who knows exactly what he wants and it is me—complicated men were definitely becoming my specialty.

  Chapter 9

  “Remember, no swearing Russian,” I said, glancing over to the ‘wall’ sitting next to me as we drove to Radio K-Talk where The Russian was to be a guest on the ten o’clock sports program.

  “Fuck no, wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, giving me a sly look. I returned his look with a touch of grimace and smartass. It takes some skill to do that, but I’m the girl for the job. The sports weekend preview program was on every Friday morning and I usually sent a player along. Some didn’t need me to come with them; others like The Russian liked to have the media officer with him, made him feel important. He filled the front seat of my silver Alpha Spider convertible but refused to take his car—I think he also liked being chauffeured around by women.

  “So Sasha, how’s it going with you and the Kaiser, anything happening?” he asked.

  “And I’d be telling you Russian because...?” I asked.

  He grinned again. “Because you like me.”

  “Ha,” I scoffed. “What gave you that idea?”

  “I like that pant suit you are wearing,” he said, glancing at my very groovy red pant suit that I had just designed and made a prototype of before selling online. “But I prefer you in a dress, you have good legs.”

  I shook my head at him. “Russian you must have breached a couple of discrimination acts in that last comment, you’re a dinosaur. But thanks anyway. I prefer you in your soccer shorts but we’ll both just have to put up with not seeing each other’s legs.”

  He was a good looking guy in a big sort of way—Nik was big but most of it was height; he was agile and fit, but The Russian was big everywhere that I could see.

  “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t ask me out, Sasha, instead of Kaiser,” he teased.

  I glanced towards him and grinned. “First, I didn’t ask Kaiser out, and second, yeah, you and I would be a marriage made in heaven Russian,” I said with a laugh.

  “Why? We get on,” he pushed. I knew he was teasing me and wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole, he was such a stirrer. I indicated to turn off the main road to the station.

  “We would kill each other. Let’s do a little test,” I said. “Favorite program?”

  “National Geographic,” he said. “You?”

  “Sports channel,” I told him. “Favorite food?”

  “Steak.”

  “Vegetarian lasagna,” I countered and he grimaced. “Favorite music?”

  “Rock.” The Russian scoffed as though it was everyone’s choice.

  “Jazz,” I said, “favorite book?”

  “Any sports magazine,” he said.

  I held up my hand, “I think I’ve proved my point. We would annoy the hell out of each other. What would we talk about?”

  “Why would we have to talk?”

  I tore my glance from the road long enough to give him another look.

  “What? C’mon, everyone knows opposites attract. So what’s the Kaiser got that I haven’t?” he persisted.

  “He speaks German,” I said.

  The Russian nodded. “Yeah, fair enough, that’d be high on my list too,” he teased.

  I really wanted to ask The Russian what he knew about Nik but I didn’t want to be seen to be checking up on him. He’d tell me when he’s good and ready... wouldn’t be soon enough. The best thing about The Russian though, is that he loved a bit of gossip and freely volunteered it.

  “The girls love Nik you know, I’ve heard good reports that he’s great in the sack,” he said.

  I grimaced. “Did I ask for a horizontal report card?”

  “You know he got five offers from different clubs, and he came here.”

  “I heard it was six. Maybe he likes the beach,” I offered.

  “Maybe he wanted to get as far away from Berlin as possible. Some skeletons in the closet?”

  “You telling or asking?” I said.

  �
�Just saying he’s a closed book. Captain couldn’t get much from him either.”

  “Mm, interesting. Nik and Lucas used to hang out a bit, so if he can’t crack him, then maybe he doesn’t want to be cracked,” I said. “What do they say about you out there?”

  The Russian shrugged. “It’d be all good.”

  “For sure,” I agreed, smiling to myself. I turned into the radio station parking lot and parked my car. We headed to reception and Dan, one of the journalists from the station I went to college with, came out to greet us.

  “Sasha, Russian, thanks for coming in, come this way.”

  I followed Dan into the studio and he took The Russian into the booth. I sat outside with the producer until Dan’s return.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Dan said, rejoining me.

  “Tell Russian that. He likes to have his hand held.” I smiled at our Saints’ soccer star through the glass separating the studio and he smiled back, the big ham.

  “Hey, will you be at the game this Sunday?” Dan asked me.

  “Yep, match day and I work for the Saints,” I said, summarizing it.

  “Of course. I was thinking we should catch up sometime,” he said.

  I looked at Dan and frowned. “Yeah, well I’ll see you at the game on Sunday.”

  “Oh sure,” he said.

  What the…? Seems it never rains but it pours guys. When you start seeing someone you suddenly become much more attractive to other guys for some weird reason. You must give off a pheromone that says I’m attractive to a man therefore I’m attractive to all men. But seriously, Dan now? I busied myself tweeting to Saints’ fans that The Russian was going to be on air in a few minutes. Then, the red light came on and The Russian came on live. I returned my concentration to the studio where he kept glancing out at me—the man loved an audience. I hope the announcer had his finger on the seven second silence button because I doubted The Russian could go a whole conversation without dropping in a good swear word or two. I gave him the thumbs up after a well-thought-out answer.

  I loved my job; here I was in a radio studio getting paid to keep an eye on The Russian and this Sunday was game day. Hell yeah, bring it on.