“Okay,” she says, unfurling the jerseys, “I brought three jerseys so I could switch mid-practice if I think my chances are better with a different player, but who should I start with?”
“Um…” My eyes dart back and forth between the three names. “I don’t really know these guys. None of them have been injured yet.”
Kendall narrows her eyes. “Hmm. Good point. I should have texted you in the sporting goods store.”
“Oh, wait! I actually do know some gossip about this guy.” I point at the jersey in her left hand. “He just broke up with his girlfriend, and she looks exactly like you from the back.”
Five seconds later, and Kendall’s wearing his jersey, stuffing the other two in her bag. “Well, what are we standing out here in the lobby for? Let’s go support our team!”
***
Kendall tugs at her jersey as we walk down the concrete tunnel that leads out towards the field. “Crap, I knew this was too big. I should have gone a size smaller so…uh…” she looks over her shoulder at the name on the back of her jersey, then pulls out her phone and looks up his first name, “Ryan…Cooper…can actually see my boobs.”
She looks up from her phone with a conspiratorial smirk. “You haven’t seen his dick, have you? You know, like in an exam or something? Is it huge?”
I shudder. “Ew, no! What do you think I do here? I haven’t seen anyone’s dick.”
Kendall looks back down at her phone and raises her eyebrows. “Anyone’s except Brady’s.”
Nervously, I look around the incredibly echoey tunnel to make sure no one heard what she just said. “Kendall!” I whisper, “You can’t say things like that! Sound carries from here all the way down to the field.”
Then, raising my voice a little, I project down the tunnel. “Besides, my relationship with Brady is strictly professional, so I’m not sure what you’re implying.”
Smirking wider, Kendall steps in close to me and lowers her voice to a soft, echo-free whisper. “Oh, I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying, if Brady’s your main patient then you must have examined him by now, and there’s no way Brady Mack lets you see what’s between his legs without also showing you how it feels inside you. And, I’m also saying that you have been watching an awful lot of his highlights lately in between episodes of Throne of Crowns, and you’ve been bringing him up in casual conversation way more than a normal doctor does about a patient. So dish. How many inches? Length and girth.”
The tunnel is suspiciously empty, but that doesn’t stop me from looking around nervously as Kendall talks. Still, I can’t let her scandalous accusations go unaddressed. So I whisper back to her. “Okay, first of all, he keeps a towel over his…you know…every time I give him an exam. I talk about him more because he’s my primary patient, but he must be pretty healthy, because I haven’t actually given him an exam in a while. I’m watching his highlights to get a better understanding of his injury history, and most importantly of all, absolutely nothing has happened between us.”
Kendall shrugs. “Whatever you say. But you wouldn’t be talking like this if something wasn’t going to happen. It’s only a matter of time.”
Before I can say anything back to Kendall, the whole tunnel shakes beneath our feet. For a second, I think it’s an earthquake.
But then it happens again. And then a third time.
“Wait, is that music?” Kendall asks.
“Hell yeah!” A football player says, jogging past us in full pads. He turns to look at us as he passes. “Brady’s running practice today!”
Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that.
Suddenly very worried about the safety of my most important patient’s groin, I share a look with Kendall and we pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way down the tunnel for entirely different reasons. Then, when I make it out onto the field, what I see drops my jaw.
Because there’s music alright. Blasting so loud that I can barely hear myself think. There’s also reporters. Lots and lots of reporters. And random other people who aren’t football players, hanging out on the field with red cups in their hands like they’re at a house party. And in the center of it all, six feet off the field, is you know who, standing above everyone with his shirt off…on top of a mechanical bull.
“This is what happens at practice?” Kendall asks, visibly becoming an even bigger football fan as she scans the field.
“I guess it is when Brady runs it.” But why the hell is Brady running it? Furrowing my brow, I watch him standing on the mechanical bull, flexing his muscles for the sea of cameras in front of him like he’s at a photo shoot and visualizing the millions of ways he could seriously hurt himself in the next thirty seconds.
“Wait, they have alcohol here?” Kendall asks, eyeing a table on the 35 yard line covered in kegs and red cups. “I think I’m going to go get a drink while I look for…uh…Ryan!”
Kendall disappears into the crowd mingling on the field, and I turn my attention back to Brady just in time to watch him jump off the mechanical bull and onto the field so another football player can start riding it.
Well, I guess that’s a start.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Coach Bradley on the sidelines, watching the complete insanity on the field with his arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face. I have a thousand questions for him and none of them are very polite.
Innocently, I sidle up to him. “So…Brady’s running practice, huh?”
Coach Bradley laughs, looking very satisfied with himself. “He sure is. And he’s playing right into my hands. We were getting too complacent in our normal practices. These guys were on auto-pilot, like they didn’t even need to try. And you’re never going to win it all with a mindset like that.”
He gestures over to the crowd of reporters gathered around Brady. “What we need is just a little bit of bad press. If word gets out that we’re partying instead of practicing, which I’m sure it already has, the story’s going to be that we’re not playing hard enough, and that Brady is a bad influence on the team. The Bulls are going to feel disrespected and vow to beat us on Sunday, and the players are going to feel guilty, and work twice as hard in practice from now on to prove that they’re hard workers.”
“Oh,” I say, watching the 300 pound lineman who passed us in the tunnel jump around in a bouncy castle in one of the end zones. “That’s…an interesting plan. But aren’t you worried that somebody might hurt themselves doing something they’re not accustomed to doing?” I look back and forth between Coach Bradley and the mechanical bull several times to drive my point home.
But Coach Bradley just shrugs. “I guess it’s possible, but I think it’s worth the risk. Besides, other than Rex’s hand and a couple ankle sprains, our team is pretty healthy.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “That’s true. Definitely nobody with any injuries or anything like that.”
Coach Bradley’s mouth twists to one side. “Let’s hope not.”
A few moments pass as I watch the chaos on the field unfold. It looks like Kendall’s found Ryan; the two of them are laughing at some unheard joke on the other side of the field. Rex and an equally huge guy who I’m not even sure is on the team are mudwrestling in an inflatable pool. And the mechanical bull is still sitting in the middle of a sea of reporters, waiting for Brady to reach down and turn it on. “So, uh…thanks for treating me like a real resident this past week. I know that’s not why you hired me, and I know you don’t actually need one, but I’m actually learning a lot.”
Coach Bradley nods over towards the middle of the field. “Thank Brady. It was his idea to give you more responsibilities. He thought you were getting bored, and that you were a great young doctor who could be a real asset to the medical staff. Promoting you was his idea.”
“Oh,” I say, looking over at the massive, football player who’s currently flexing for the cameras on top of a mechanical bull. Seriously? Brady Mack, the poster child for arrogant athletes everywhere, got me a promo
tion?
“Yeah,” Coach Bradley says, “I guess he likes you.”
He claps his hands together. “And that’s exactly what we want to happen. So whatever you’re doing, keep doing it!”
I bite my lip as I remember the last time Brady and I were alone together. Sorry, Coach, but there are a couple things that I’m not going to keep doing.
“I should probably go thank him,” I say, furrowing my brow as Brady bends down and searches around for the mechanical bull’s on switch.
“Good idea!” Coach Bradley says, and then, as soon as his attention is somewhere else, I practically sprint up towards the mechanical bull.
“Who wants to fucking bet that I can go two minutes on this thing standing up? 100 dollars says I can.” Brady says, still searching for the switch.
A couple of the journalists gathered around Brady murmur and start digging through their pockets, but stop and look up at me when I run between the bull and the crowd.
“Wait!” I shout, looking for some kind of plug I can pull to deactivate the mechanical bull. Instantly, Brady looks up, and our eyes lock for just a little too long before I go back to looking for some way to shut it off.
“Sorry to disappoint everyone, but Brady’s actually going zero minutes on the mechanical bull,” I say to the crowd of reporters.
I kneel down, wondering if there’s some kind of battery I need to pull out to deactivate the bull.
Brady drops down to a sitting position. “Everyone, this is Ca—”
I glare up at him.
“This is Dr. Parker,” He says, smirking down at me “She’s part of our medical staff, and take it from me: she’s a really good doctor. I’ve only had one exam from her so far, but I can’t wait for our next one.”
My head snaps up towards Brady and it takes everything I’ve got not to say something. I want to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing talking like that in front of a crowd of reporters, but clearly, I can’t.
Brady hops down onto the bull and pats the space in front of him, drawing my eyes down between his massive legs. “You know, there’s room up here for two, if you want to go for a ride.”
As much as I don’t want to imagine straddling a mechanical bull with Brady’s huge body right behind me, holding me in place, in front of all these people, Brady’s not making it easy. And you know what? I think, for both of our sakes, the sooner we get away from the cameras, the better.
“Maybe later…” I say, shuddering at the thought, “But I’d rather not have that video all over the internet.”
I gesture at the cameras and give Brady a pointed look. “How about we go get a drink first?”
“I thought you’d never fucking ask,” Brady says, hopping off the bull and following me as I walk towards the drinks table. Come on Brady, we’re almost part of the crowd, don’t do anything stupid while the cameras are still pointing at us. Just a little longer…
I look back over my shoulder, and let out a huge sigh of relief when I see the crowd of reporters move over to film the bouncy castle. Yes! Victory!
I turn around towards Brady and smack him on the arm. “If you’re wondering why I’ve been ignoring you,” I whisper, “It’s because clearly, I can’t even get within ten feet of you without your stupid dirty mind getting us into trouble.”
“My dirty mind?” Brady whispers, taking a step towards me, “You were the one staring right at my cock back there, right after you made me call you Dr. Parker. You know, I’m starting to think you’ve got some serious doctor-patient fantasies going on in that sexy fucking head of yours.”
“What!?” I squeak, “I don’t have doctor-patient fantasies! I’m just a doctor! What is wrong with you!?”
“Yeah, Brady, what is wrong with you?”
My heart skipping a beat, I turn around and come face to face with a mean-looking blonde girl with thick-rimmed glasses and a cheerleading uniform. “Because it sounds like something is.”
She narrows her eyes at Brady. “See, you don’t normally have a young, female doctor come running in and stop you when you’re about to do something stupid. That’s new. So what changed? You’re not injured, are you?”
“Who is this? I ask, turning to Brady, who rolls his eyes.
“Her name’s Alyssa,” He says, “She got kicked off the cheerleading squad earlier this year and now she’s a professional stalker.”
“I’m a reporter!” Alyssa says, “And personally, I think there’s a story here. Any injuries you’d like to share with the media, Brady’s doctor?”
Still a little pale from having our conversation on doctor-patient fantasies interrupted by a reporter, I hesitate for a second, then shake my head. “I just didn’t want him to hurt himself on the mechanical bull. That’s all.”
“A likely story,” Alyssa says. Then, her eyes suddenly go wide. “Wait a second. This isn’t an inappropriate player-staff relationship, is it?”
“I think you’re projecting,” Brady says, “Just because you got kicked off the team for trying to break the contract doesn’t mean anyone else is.”
The hint of a smirk appears on Alyssa’s face as I stay stone-faced. “Right. Our relationship is 100% professional. 0% inappropriate.”
Alyssa’s eyes flick over to me, sizing me up behind her glasses. “Nice try. If I hadn’t worked for the team, you might have had me there. But I think we both know that there’s no such thing as 0% inappropriate when Brady’s involved.”
She looks back and forth between us for a few more seconds with gears turning in her head. “Alright, you two. Enjoy your practice. Have an appropriate workplace drink. But I’ll be watching you. And when you slip up, I’ll be there.”
With one last glare at each of us, Alyssa walks past us, disappearing into the crowd of football players and cheerleaders behind us.
“What’s her problem?” I ask Brady, my heart still beating fast in my chest.
Brady shrugs. “Who fucking knows? She’s been like this ever since she’s gotten kicked off the team.”
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, though!” I say, “We have to do a better job of looking normal, or we’re going to be in serious trouble.”
Brady smirks. “I think we can do that, as long as you keep your doctor-patient fantasies under control.”
Turning red, I open my mouth to ask him if he learned anything from what just happened, but before I can, the music stops, and I hear the sound of a megaphone from the sideline behind me.
“Alright, everyone,” Coach Bradley says, his soft-spoken voice amplified all over the field. “That was fun, but I think it’s time to start working on some football. Everyone not on the team, I’d appreciate it if you moved up into the stands while we start cleaning up.”
The effect on the crowd is instantaneous. The cameras and the partygoers all head for the exits at once, taking their drinks with them and leaving only the football players on the field.
I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Alright, well, have fun at practice. I’ll be in the back. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Brady grins at me. “I’ll try not to…Dr. Parker…but if I do, I know where to go.”
Shaking my head, I walk back towards the sidelines, where Kendall catches up with me, flashing a phone number written on her hand in black marker. “He’s in love,” She says, “How’d it go with you and Brady?”
Nervously, I look back towards the field, scanning for any sign of Alyssa or anyone else who might be an eavesdropper. “Same old Brady,” I say.
“Perfect,” Kendall says, “Because like I said before. It’s happening. It’s just a matter of time.”
I wish I could just roll my eyes at Kendall and tell her she’s wrong. But now that I can’t even hear Brady call me Dr. Parker without my mind going right into the gutter? As much as I want to keep things professional, she might be right. I already lost control around Brady once…and maybe twice, if you count the club.
But I hope she’s wrong. Because if she isn’t…then w
e’re in very dangerous territory.
Chapter 8: Brady
“Are you alright!?”
I look up from the bench at the team doctor, who’s standing in front of me soaking wet, with raindrops running down the lenses of her glasses. She’s less than a foot away from me, but she has to yell because of the insanely loud crowd noise filling the stadium. I smirk at her through the grill of my helmet. “Yeah. I’m better than alright. Watch what happens when I get back out there.”
She gestures down towards my legs. “Okay, but you were rubbing your thigh pretty hard just now. Is something wrong down there?”
Shit, I didn’t realize I was doing that. I shrug against my shoulder pads. “Nope. Just loosening up.”
On the other side of the field, a whistle cuts through the rain. That means the commercial break’s over and it’s time to get back on the field.
“Alright, well just let me know if you need anything,” the doctor says as I get up off the bench and walk past her towards the turf, and I nod my head.
Honestly, the truth is, I could use one of those fucking shots that Cassie gave me last week right about now. I’ve been sprinting up and down the field all day, and now I’m starting to feel that sharp, throbbing pain in my thigh again. But hey, that’s football. If I told that doctor I’m running on a sprain, she might have pulled me off the field, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving this game. The Bulls have been playing out of their fucking minds, and we’re only three points up on them. On top of that, it’s raining. In fucking San Diego. There’s no way I’m missing this shit, and that means I just have to play through the pain.
Shit, for a second, I thought that doctor was Cassie. I don’t know why; ever since Alyssa grilled us at practice, she’s been pulling her “Call me Dr. Parker” routine every time we’re in the same room, which isn’t very often because she’s also been avoiding me. And hey, it’s adorable and all, especially because it’s so over the top it actually makes us look more suspicious, but she’s allowed to come on the field, and if she was actually here, I could get one of those fucking shots.
Savage: A Pro Football Romance Page 6