by Timms, Lexy
“Nate,” Coach sighed, “I’m not letting you play next week. Sanderson’s going to start.”
“Sanderson?” Nate scoffed. “I’m way better than Sanderson.”
“You used to be, Nate. Sanderson’s been working while you’ve been whoring. He’s catching up to you. Be careful he doesn’t leave you in the dirt.”
For the first time since signing the contract for pro-ball, Nate Thomas was scared. “What about my contract?” he asked in a smaller voice than he could ever remember using in this room. He looked around at the lockers, inhaled the familiar scents of sweat and adrenaline and everything else that went into a locker room.
Fear didn’t belong in this room. There was no place for it.
Coach shrugged. “It doesn’t say anything about how many times you play in a season,” he said, his tone gruff. Dead serious. “And Mr. Bancroft’s attorneys drew up that little gem. Ask yourself if they didn’t leave a little wiggle room for them to wriggle out of.”
Nate thought for a moment. “I guess I don’t know, Coach. Maybe I’m the wrong one to ask.”
“You’re not playing next week, Nate. You’re benched until further notice.”
Benched? Benched.
THAT didn’t happen to Nate Thomas.
And just like that the fear was gone. A fist came out. Smashed into the locker next to him hard enough to leave a dent. “How long is that?” Nate yelled, resisting the urge to punch another locker only because his hand hurt like hell, except he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.
“Until you can show me that you’re a grown-up. When you can prove you’re no longer holding onto college and all-night keggers and parades of naked girls. You play again when you grow up and not a damn minute before.”
Nate took a breath. Took another.
You gotta calm yourself down. Aren’t you proving his point? Stop it…Breathe. Like before the Super Bowl. This is just another game. Just…a different kind.
Breathe.
“Come on, Coach.” Nate said quietly when he had himself reined in enough to look contrite. To even mean it. Mostly. “Come on, please! Football is all I have; I don’t know nothing else.”
“I don’t know anything else.” Coach muttered half under his breath.
“Then you know how I feel!” Nate grabbed the other man’s arms. “Please. Don’t make me miss the games.”
“We’re hiring you a babysitter, Nate,” Johnson said. “Someone trained to handle aberrant and childish personal…it…ty.”
Whatever the coach was going on about, Nate wasn’t listening. A girl had just come through the door, tall and insecure. An interesting combination, as she came in holding her shoulders back like she was trying to appear confident, when the face behind the glasses was all scared rabbit.
He’d seen her somewhere before. Where…?
“HEY!” Nate yelled it the second he realized who she was. “WET T-SHIRT!” He waved enthusiastically at the pretty girl who stuttered in through the double doors.
“Um… excuse me…” She held up a piece of paper and looked at Coach Johnson. “I think I must be at the wrong address.”
Coach leaned in close to Nate. Spoke right in his ear, his voice low. Deadly. No one who heard Coach talk like that forgot it. The last time he’d heard that voice, it was the third down on the fourth quarter and Coach had been telling Nate to throw long. They’d been down by six. And Nate had messed it up anyway.
He’d been kind of hungover. Maybe.
Not a pleasant memory.
“That’s your babysitter, Nate. Don’t fuck it up. If she quits, you’re out. I’ll make sure you get suspended indefinitely.”
Wait, what? Babysitter? Nate snorted. “No problem, Coach,” he said and turned his award-winning smile on the mismatched-dressed girl in the ugly glasses, who had lost the confident shoulders and was now timidly crossing the room, looking around like she was expecting to be attacked from all sides.
“You stay away from me!” she snapped, and pointed at Nate.
Coach Johnson stepped between them and held out his hand. “I’m Miles Johnson,” he said, “but most folks in this room call me ‘Coach’. Please, step into my office, Miss…”
“Jones,” she finished, and looked around him with an expression that was more disgust than anything. Coach looked over his shoulder. Nate flicked his hair back and grinned so broadly, his face hurt.
“You look like a bad rendition of the Joker from Batman. Heath Ledger did it with more sex appeal.” He shook his head in disgust and turned toward Scared Rabbit, holding open the door to his office with a broad sweeping gesture and courtly bow. “My office, if you please.”
“Ah… I guess?” She half-walked, half-ran to the designated office with Nate smiling broadly after her.
Joker. Yeah, right.
“STAY!” Coach ordered and shut the door.
Man, was he pissed.
Nate grinned until the girl was out of sight and then massaged his sore cheek muscles. With a little make-up, a bit less clothing, some nice heels… she wouldn’t be so bad.
Yeah, he reached into his locker and grabbed a bottle of cologne. This was in the bag.
The bottle fell from his grip and shattered at his feet.
Chapter 3
“I think there’s been a mistake.” Amanda sat down cautiously, paranoid the chair was going to explode out from under her. It might. You never knew. It had been that kind of a day.
“I think there has.” Coach Johnson countered, giving her an all-over kind of look that made her feel more than a little uncomfortable. The man was old enough to be her father. “I was expecting someone… older and less… attractive.”
“I’m sorry?” Amanda asked. “What do my age or appearance have to do with my qualifications?”
“I only meant…”
“I know what you meant and, frankly, I’m a bit offended by it. It’s bad enough to have to deal with that…” She pointed out the office window where Nate was alternating smiling and flexing in front of a mirror. “But to have my qualifications contingent on physical appearance is rather sexist and upsetting.”
“I don’t think—”
“No, I believe that you did. I’m currently working on my Master’s thesis in child psychology. I’m experienced as a nanny and an au pair, though there’s not a lot of difference. I’ve managed children of every age, and regardless of my height, weight or age, I am more than qualified.”
“It’s just that—”
“And plus, this is a live-in position, is it not?” Amanda continued, crossing her arms and leveling him with a glare.
He shifted uneasily. “A separate suite, yes, but…”
“Then it’s perfect, as my roommate and I are currently looking for a new place to live. Rather, I’m looking for a new place; she’s looking for a new roommate. It’s better that way. So, you need me. I need the job, and the timing is perfect. Now that we have established that my ‘looks’ and age are no longer pertinent, I would like to start right away. Is that all right with you?”
Coach Johnson hesitated for a moment, looking much like a first-grader who wasn’t altogether sure whether it was his turn to talk yet. “Yes?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Amanda sighed. They never grew up, did they? Perpetual little boys. She shook her head. “No matter.” She smiled, leveling him with another glare as he seemed about to protest it. Darn it, she needed this job and some oversized Phys. Ed. teacher in gym shorts wasn’t going to get in her way. “I’m sure we’ll get along splendidly. Now, when do I get to meet the child?”
Coach Johnson pointed through the window. His hand shook slightly.
Amanda jumped to her feet, feeling the blood drain from her face. “You left the child out there in the locker room? Alone with that… that… ape?”
“It is the ape. You’ve been hired to get him under control and keep him out of the press.”
Amanda pointed.
Nate was slamming his shou
lder into a wall and yelling, “DEFENSE!”
“Him?”
Coach nodded.
“There’s been some mistake,” Amanda said, shaking her head and backing up toward the door to the office. “I’m sorry, but that…”
“Ape?” Coach supplied helpfully.
“Thank you, is not a child!”
Nate was playing on his phone and yelling, “JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!”
“Well, I mean by age.”
“Listen. Nate’s a really good player; he could be great…” He paused, his gaze flicking over her body again, seeming to notice for the first time the tailored suit she’d painstakingly pressed only that morning. “Ok, you probably don’t care about sports, I figured that much out on my own. I need you, I need someone. So does he, although he doesn’t know it. He’s got a gift, a gift that’s worth a lot of money to a lot of people. They’ve catered to him all his life, let him get away with things because of that gift.” Coach walked to the chair in front of his desk and sat, indicating that Amanda take the other again. “These people put a lot of money into him, and they’re going to get it back with interest. If he can play well, they make a little back. If he can play well and be a clown, they make a lot more back. He becomes a sideshow freak.”
Amanda sat and crossed her legs. Was she seriously considering this? No, she’d be a fool. “It’s really…”
“Not your problem, yes, I know. But he could be good enough to make them all lots of money on their investments, if the wild streak doesn’t end him first.”
“I can’t…”
“I understand that,” Coach said. “But he needs a nanny or his career will end. And soon. Then all the people who fawn over him now will forget him and leave him alone. He’s never been alone.”
The picture of an abandoned little boy crying by the side of the road came to mind. Wearing a football jersey.
It was beyond pathetic.
And yet…
No.
No, I can’t. Say it, girl, and get out of here.
“No, I….”
“And,” Coach said, leaning forward a little, his tone wheedling. “You and your roommate are looking for other accommodations. This is a full suite. Separate from the main house with its own locks and a separate alarm system.”
“Whose house?” Amanda didn’t wait for an answer. She knew. Of course she knew. “His?! Doesn’t he already have all the codes to his own house?”
“Coach?” Nate yelled through the window, causing Amanda to jump in her chair. “I’m tweeting!” He chuckled a bit at that as if he’d been inordinately clever. “What’s the word for doing the same thing all the time, first thing first, then the next one, and then the next one, and then… you know…”
“Systematic?” Amanda asked, not sure why she was even answering.
“YEAH! Uh, how do you spell that? P.A.T.H.E.T.I.C.A.L?”
“Yeah, Nate, that’s it,” Coach said, giving her a look loaded with meaning. “Give us a bit, will you?”
Nate winked. “Got it, Coach, you old dog, you!”
Coach sighed and looked at Amanda. “The thing is, he tests high in every IQ test he’s ever had. Even though he sounds like an idiot. He’s not. No one’s ever made him think. He’s never had to stand on his own two feet. When he gets dumped at the end of his career…”
“He’ll be worth millions?”
“He’s telling the world he has a ‘pathetical’ style. How long do you think his money will last?” Coach looked at her. “Please?”
This is a bad idea.
“I do need to find a place to live right away…”
Amanda instinctively caught the keys Coach tossed her. “We’ll sign the paperwork later. I’ll have legal draw up something impressive. Two…no, three times your usual fee…”
Amanda sat staring at the keys without blinking.
“Nate!” Coach called through the door. “Come meet your new nanny!”
Nate leaned on the doorframe and looked at her. “Wow, thanks Coach, but I can get my own girls. She’s cute, but she just doesn’t do it for me.”
Coach opened his mouth, but Amanda had quite honestly had enough. If she was doing this, she was doing it RIGHT. What was one more disobedient little boy in her line of work?
She stood up, crossed her arms and faced him, nose to nose as it were. “I don’t know what passes for thinking in that caveman-thick skull you use for a battering ram, you low-level, knuckle-dragging hormone, but you will talk TO me, NOT about me when I am sitting right there. And you WILL talk politely to me out of respect for a human being who is more highly evolved than your life single-cell life form!”
“Coach?” Nate asked. His voice rose on the end of the word, eyes wide and somewhat panicked.
“What she said was that you’re going to be nice to her, or you can’t play. You’re benched for the season until this girl says differently.”
Nate shoved past Amanda. Slammed his hands down on Coach’s desk hard enough to make the pens rattle in the coffee mug they were kept in. “You can’t do that!”
“According to your contract, I can!” Coach said, leaning back, arms behind his head, the picture of a man at ease.
“You didn’t read the contract?” Amanda asked, trying very hard not to laugh. It wouldn’t do to snicker at one’s charge.
“Coach!”
“She’s staying in your guesthouse, Nate.”
Nate blinked a few times. Frowned. “Ok, I’ll buy a new goat!”
“What goat?” Amanda looked from one to the other.
Coach shook his head. “It’s not about the goat, Nate.”
“What goat?”
“This is it. You’re off the team until this little lady says otherwise!”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” Amanda said, thinking about slamming her own hands down on the desk if it got his attention. So far nothing else seemed to be working.
“You don’t have to determine his ability to play,” Coach said with a shrug. “Just keep him out of trouble.”
“No, I mean being called ‘little girl’,” she said, flexing her fingers as making a fist at one’s new boss probably wasn’t advisable. And would get her laughed out of the room in all likelihood.
“I stand corrected,” Coach said with a solemn nod.
“Well, I’m not sitting down for this!” Nate shoved past Amanda for a second time, and paused in the doorway. He had no problems with making a fist at his boss at all it seemed. He even used it, pounding on the doorframe. “I’m taking this to the general manager.”
“Go ahead, Nate. My contract says I can do whatever I want. I read mine.”
Nate growled, spun on one heel, and left.
Coach stood and held out his hand. “Welcome to the Denver Broncos,” he said.
Chapter 4
They weren’t kidding with the word “suite.” The place was bigger than the apartment she’d been sharing with Jennifer. The key difference? This was supposedly all hers. Furnished, and awesome.
It was way more space than she needed, not that she wasn’t going to revel in it. With two large bedrooms, a living room, small kitchen and even a tiny nook off the living room just the right size for an office. She was almost numb as she went from room to room, shaking her head in wonder as she stared. There was no way to use all that space. Even if she totally spread out.
And furnished. Who did that? Granted, the main room was predominantly white; which went a long way to proving her charge never entered the premises. Her charge. A grown boy needing a sitter. What the heck were the Broncos going to tell the media? She ran a hand along the white leather coach. Just like a real small child, Nate probably couldn’t keep things white for very long.
She made a bunch of trips to the rental truck, but the living room was simply too nice to clutter with cardboard. She stacked her boxes, most of which had BOOKS scrawled on them in marker, into the room she designated as the spare. It was sweaty work and she was ready for a break by the time sh
e finished.
The bathroom had to be her favorite room. She stood and stared for a long time at the massive tub with some kind of Jacuzzi arrangement, not altogether sure she could manage turning it on without an advanced degree in engineering. The rugs were royal blue, going with the white and silver theme of the room which was bigger than her bedroom growing up. She sank up to her ankles in the deep piled plush next to the shower while she examined the controls there, wide-eyed. You could hold a small, though intimate, party in there, with no one getting left out in the cold. Between the giant showerhead coming down seemingly from the ceiling, and the multiple jets on every side, getting washed was simply a matter of standing still. Somewhat like a carwash for humans. She dropped her towel and entered cautiously, eyes wide.
She never wanted to leave.
Imagine how much better this would be with company…
Red-faced, she unwrapped a brand-new loofah and lathered herself with perhaps a little more force than necessary, trying to scrub the image of the amazing, troublesome Nate from her brain.
Seriously, it wasn’t working.
How could it? The space was too luxurious…too…much.
To be honest, so was he.
By the time she stepped out, her skin had been scrubbed raw and her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. The only bonus would have been no way to see just how stupidly he had her riled up. Ironically, there were mirrors everywhere, and despite the steam she pretty much had a 360-degree view of the blush that crept all the way down to her breasts.
With a groan, she threw the towel on the floor and stomped naked into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed.
Which was, of course, beyond amazing.
“What am I doing here?” She lay with her forearm over her eyes, thinking of all the ways this was a really, really bad idea. She even found a few lame reasons why she ought to just pack up and leave right now. Only, as duly noted already, the bed was amazing, and the room was amazing, the shower beyond anyone’s dreams, the house was amazing…and the money—
That money went beyond amazing. She could finish her year of school. Pay off her credit card debt. Hell, she might even be able to afford to go home for Christmas if she could somehow finagle the time off.