It was one of the only reasons why I’d taken this job.
That, and because Gus was right. It would have been stupid to turn it down.
The men’s NCU basketball team was an institution in the state of North Carolina. Hell, in the entire country. Being connected to one of the most prestigious PT programs in the nation, plus having legitimate PT experience with one of the most successful and well-known teams in all of sports, plus having a glowing recommendation from Gus Iglehart, was going to put quite a few job opportunities at my fingertips.
“You ready for this, kid?” he asked with an inquiring eye.
With our many conversations, he had gotten to know me better than most, so he knew about the contentious relationship I had with my father. He understood how difficult and awkward this was most surely going to be for me. Regardless of my growing nausea, I raised the veil and faked confidence. If I had one area of expertise in life, it was that. Masking my uncertainty and self-doubt, usually with sarcasm and smart assery.
“When have you ever known me to back away from a challenge?” I asked. “I’ve got balls of steel, remember?”
“I thought the phrase was buns of steel.”
I feigned a sigh. “God, how old are you? Buns of steel is so 80s.” I slapped my hand on his shoulder. “And by that, I mean the 1980s. Not the 1880s. You know, the decade you were born.”
He lightly yanked a strand of my hair. “I’m gonna kick your ass right back to the 1980s if you’re not careful, little girl,” he grumbled.
I, in turn, ruffled his soft white hair. “It’s so cute when you try to act all tough.”
He rolled his eyes. “You want a tour now? Or should I just let you and your balls of steel figure everything out for yourselves?”
I innocently batted my eyelashes. “One tour for the lady, please.”
He tried to look stern, but he couldn’t hide the small twitch of his lips. “Well, first things first.” He pointed at another door I hadn’t noticed before. “Please use that door from now on. It leads out to the main hallway. When the adjoining door to the locker room is closed, that means don’t go in. If you need to see a player for any reason, they’ll come to you. Don’t go in the locker room.”
I hummed in sarcasm “Yes. Because I’ve never seen a penis before.”
His stern face was back in place. “The last thing we need is for our female trainer to be flashed by a bunch of dicks.”
I smirked. “Pun intended?”
He ignored that. “I love these boys like they’re my own. But those jackasses would take you going in there as an invitation. So, let’s avoid all the pesky sexual harassment lawsuits, shall we?”
I placed my hand over my chest. “Aw, I knew you cared. But FYI, if you’re trying to protect my virtue—”
He wildly waved his hands about. “Ah, no! No. Good God, girl. I don’t need to hear about that.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. “Just…” He sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Moving on.”
I bit back my laughter as he continued showing me around the training room, indicating where all the supplies were kept, all the forms I would need, the records on each player, and so on and so on. Not surprising, NCU had the best of everything. And my nerdy side couldn’t wait to get her hands on the brand new cervical support rolls I’d spotted.
The dread from earlier had started to morph into…excitement.
It felt good being here. Like I was important, needed.
“I’m not going to go over all the common injuries we’re going to deal with because you know your stuff,” he said. “But ankles, knees, shoulders, and fingers will be the worst. Nose bleeds are common, of course. We always have to be ready to massage away muscle cramping. And yes, we even have to handle hangover symptoms.”
“You’re kidding,” I said flatly.
That should be something their own dumb asses should take care of.
He shook his head. “Nope. I’ve learned over the years that coaches can’t completely prevent the guys from partying, and they don’t want to deal with their players stumbling around and puking during practice. So, I created a miracle shake that obliterates any hangover in like, five minutes. I’ll give you the recipe. I call it The Cure.”
“Like the band?”
His expression was blank. “What band?”
“Nevermind,” I muttered.
“I’m going to go out to the court and check in with some of the guys,” he said, standing up. “Right now, we’ve got a sprained ankle, a jammed toe, and a few muscle bruises that need to be watched.” He waved down at me. “And I suppose we need to get the introductions out of the way.”
“Don’t act too thrilled about it,” I drawled. “I just need to use the restroom real quick.”
He peeked into the locker room. “Everyone’s on the court now, so you can use one of the toilets in there. But just this once. Any other time, use the one down the hall.”
I saluted him. “Hate to break it to you, Gus, but a girl doesn’t relish being in a men’s bathroom. You lot are filthy pigs.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you out there,” he said and left the room.
As I walked back through the locker room and shut myself into a stall, a wave of self-assuredness swept over me. It wasn’t fake confidence this time, either. I could do this. I’d earned this spot, dammit. I’d spent my entire life working my ass off studying and reading. I had pushed a lot of things to the back burner—like having a social life—in order to focus on school.
And an uncomfortable situation with my father was not going to screw that up.
I stepped out of the stall and washed my hands, lost in my thoughts. I knew I had the goofiest smile imaginable pasted on my face. That was, until I walked back into the locker room and saw it.
An ass.
A naked ass.
On a guy. It was a guy’s naked ass, right in my face.
I briefly glimpsed a tall, tanned body with rippling muscles all down his back before my eyes fell right back to that perfectly sculpted butt. A light smattering of dark blond hair was sprinkled across his hamstrings, which pulled, tightening with every move he made.
God, what a sight.
I unwittingly emitted some sort of throaty sound that was a mix between a sigh and a groan. Which was really unfortunate because, of course, he heard it and whipped around to face me, immediately covering his goods with a white T-shirt. His blue eyes were wide and beautiful but…angry.
Shit, he was pissed.
“Can I help you?” he snapped.
Oh.
My.
God.
I knew who this was. I’d seen his chiseled face a million times, though never in person. I’d watched him dominate the court over the years, I’d heard his deep baritone voice on TV. Hell, the entire country knew who he was.
This was Cam freaking Donovan.
And I’d just seen his ass.
Where was that ending of the world when you needed it?
2
Cam
What the fuck?
Who the hell was this chick? And why the shit was she in our locker room? Then realization dawned.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
She must have followed me in here or something. A stalker maybe? Trying to get a glimpse of Cam Donovan in his skivvies? Maybe she had some type of weird obsession. I didn’t have the patience to deal with this bullshit today. I was late getting to practice because of a stupid interview for a TV spot that the university insisted I do. So, I had already been in a piss-poor mood before I walked in here.
This just pushed my rage over the edge.
“Look, I don’t know what your deal is,” I bit out, “but you’re not allowed to be in here. You need to leave now.”
She’d been standing there stock-still, mouth ajar, like a deer in headlights. But at my curt command, she finally snapped out of her trance and shook her head.
Then she blushed. Hard.
“No, sorry—I’m actually…um
.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, addressing me with more certainty. “I’m the team’s new student trainer. My name’s Reese.”
My mind screeched to a halt. Now that was interesting.
“Trainer, huh?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I just needed to use the restroom, and I didn’t think anyone was in here. I’m sorry.”
I noticed she went back and forth between making eye contact and looking over my head, obviously trying to avoid lowering her gaze to, well…the rest of me. I’d almost forgotten I was naked and covering my junk with a T-shirt. Not that it bothered me, but she was clearly uncomfortable.
I was becoming more intrigued by the second.
That’s when I really took her in from head to toe. She didn’t look much like a trainer. Probably because I was so used to old Gus and the rest of my doctors, who were all over the age of fifty. She looked to be about my age, though. And the fact that she was wearing tight ripped jeans and a faded “Middle Earth’s Annual Mordor Fun Run” T-shirt added to my curiosity.
But one thing was certain after barely glancing at her.
Our new trainer was hot.
Long chestnut hair fell around her shoulders in loose waves. Dark eyelashes highlighted what looked to be hazel eyes. Nice curves wrapped up in a tight, petite frame covered in flawless creamy skin. And damn, was that a nose ring? Yep. There was a small diamond stud in the middle of her cute button nose, and I swear I almost groaned out loud.
I was a sucker for an attractive piercing or a hot tat on a girl.
I was surprised she hadn’t left yet. Considering how hard she was blushing, I expected her to run out of there like the room was on fire. But she hadn’t, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. So, I decided to mess with her. Because I’d been having a shitty day and this was the most excitement I’d had all week.
I flashed her my signature grin—the one that always sent all my female fans into giggling fits—and relaxed my stance. “No apologies necessary, Reese.” Her eyes flew to mine when I said her name. “I’m Cam Donovan.”
I figured she already knew that. But something inside me really liked the fact that she responded with, “Nice to meet you,” instead of “I know, I’m a big fan.”
She still hadn’t moved. And I was becoming more and more tempted to remove my hand and really let her take in her fill. That might finally send her sprinting out the door.
Or maybe not. What a lovely thought that was.
“So, you’re a grad student?” I asked.
I was curious how long we could hold a conversation until she remembered she was standing in the men’s locker room.
And I was still naked.
“Yeah, in the physical therapy program,” she answered. “This trainer position is an internship for my degree.”
If she was in NCU’s PT program, she was one smart cookie. They didn’t accept just anyone. Unless she had rich alumni parents who’d negotiated her way in for her. I’d met too many spoiled trust fund kids like that at this school, and I couldn’t stand them. But Reese wasn’t striking me as that type. She appeared to actually have a brain, something I could appreciate.
“And you’ll be with us all season?”
The prospect of being around her for the next four months suddenly sounded very appealing.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, once again avoiding eye contact. “Until your season ends, yes. Whether that’s in March or before, I’ll be here until the team is done.”
I laughed, the sound coming out both sarcastic and maybe a little arrogant. That got her attention.
“We’ll be done after we win the championship, sweetheart.”
Her spine stiffened, and I bit back a smirk. Little Miss Reese seemed to have some feistiness in her. I liked that.
“That’s what they’re all saying, aren’t they?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes turning skeptical. “That the NCU Thunder is going all the way.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t think we will?”
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Time will tell.”
Her vagueness rankled my nerves, though I couldn’t explain why. Except that I could tell there was more she wanted to say, and for some odd reason, I wanted to hear her honest opinion. What the hell was that about?
“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “Say whatever you’re thinking, sweetheart.”
She hesitated for only a second. “The team’s man defense could use some work. And frankly, you could be a little more selfish with the ball.”
Um. What?
My face went slack, unsure if I should be offended or not. “Excuse me? More selfish?”
Never in my entire life had a girl told me how to play ball, or even offered advice on my game. I didn’t need it and I didn’t ask for it. So, who the hell did this girl think she was, throwing out her uneducated opinions like that? I may have wanted to know what she thought, but I didn’t think she was going to criticize my game specifically.
Why wasn’t I more upset about it?
Sure, I was slightly annoyed. But it was more like annoyance borne of curiosity. I should have been angry with her. Not interested in what she was going to say next. Unfettered honesty wasn’t something I was used to. Most people only ever told me things they thought I wanted to hear, especially women. Whatever they thought would please me. As sad as it was, I wasn’t accustomed to people telling me the honest to God truth.
But it was…refreshing.
If not a little unnerving.
I was suddenly feeling put on the spot. And possibly for the very first time in my life, I cared about what someone else saw when they looked at me.
This was getting weird.
She didn’t falter or even blanch at my heated tone. Apparently, her uncertainty from earlier had been long forgotten.
“You give the ball up too much,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You had one of the highest shooting percentages in the NACA last year, yet you still didn’t take enough shots. When you drive the ball, you’re unstoppable. But when you hold back, you play sort of…timid.”
I ground my back molars together. A very small, microscopic part of me knew she made a good point. But despite everything I just thought regarding honesty, I didn’t like having to own up to my weaknesses. My father always used to tell me I never took criticism well, and I’d have to agree. Especially not when it came from a hot stranger like Reese.
“It’s called being a team player,” I said in a low voice.
“And part of being a team player is holding your team up, even when you have to do more of the work yourself,” she said pointedly. “Take advantage when you know you’re on your game, because the rest of the team will benefit from it.”
Okay, seriously. Who was this girl?
Did she realize she was essentially trying to coach the best player in the country? And that wasn’t arrogance. That was fact. I knew what the hell I was doing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be the fucking King of the Court.
But instead of throwing her a bone and conceding that she made sense, I did what I usually did when I didn’t want to address a question or statement. I turned on the charm. Though in this case, I probably came off as more of an asshole than a charmer. Which was my goal, anyway.
She’d thrown me off my game, so I wanted to throw her off hers.
I gave her another cock-eyed grin, and struck a pose that couldn’t be ignored in my clothes-less state. I raised my leg and rested my foot on a nearby bench, further spreading my legs. I kept the T-shirt over my dick in place, but at this point, it was doing very little in the way of hiding much.
Reese’s eyes zoned in on my barely-covered package and immediately darted away, her blush returning.
I curled my lip over my teeth. “Well, well,” I purred. “Trainer and new member of the coaching staff. Exactly how many hats do you wear, Reese?”
Her jaw muscles ticked as she glared.
Definitely not a wilting flower, this one. Good.
Fuck. The sound shot straight to my dick.
Had she meant to do that? If so, I hadn’t given her enough credit. I made more of an effort to keep the thin material of the shirt over my growing erection. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how turned on I was.
“Do you?” I asked, goading her. “What’s that, sweetheart?”
She swallowed. “You’re trying to make me uncomfortable. Is this the point where I’m supposed to swoon from your irresistible charm? Or fall at Your Majesty’s feet because I’m a mere peasant who’s unworthy of standing in the great King’s presence?”
My laugh was full of genuine amusement. She was a complete contradiction. She wouldn’t let her eyes drift southward, yet she seemed completely fine with some verbal sparring with a naked stranger.
“You’re standing in the men’s locker room,” I pointed out. “You walked in on me changing, and I haven’t even been able to get dressed. Then you lecture me on my game.” I quirked an eyebrow. “If anyone should be uncomfortable here, it’s me. However, if you want to kneel before me, I’m certainly not going to stop you.”
That seemed to knock her back a step, literally. Her eyes widened—as if she only just realized our situation—and she stumbled backwards, catching herself on a stool, almost tripping and landing on her ass. And damn if it wasn’t a fine ass. For such a petite girl, she filled out her jeans very nicely, and then some. My eyes were glued to that ass as she awkwardly turned for the door.
“Right, yeah, I shouldn’t have been in here,” she said, talking fast. “I’ll let you get back to putting clothes on. I mean, doing your thing.” She waved her hand, as if trying to erase her words. “Oh, you know what I’m saying. I have to get out on the court, anyway. I’m on the cock.”
I choked on my own breath.
She might as well have been the puppeteer to my dick. She said on the cock and mine sprang up as if attached to a string. A string controlled by her voice.
King of the Court Page 2