His gaze switched back and forth between my eyes, his mouth parting slightly. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I also didn't care. He took his sweet ass time answering my question and took a seat in the golf cart. “We are going to be on the field most of the day. They are scrimmaging. We need to get water out there, first. Let's get on it.”
“Yes, sir.” I hobbled to the driver’s side, grinning like a Cheshire Cat with my new keys. “Let's do this.”
The scrimmage went well. There were no major injuries, just swollen joints and lots of ice. Lots and lots of ice. I had to make four trips to get more, so damn thankful I had the golf cart. I met two other trainers, part-timers, that day—Lisa and Matt. They were both super kind, hardworking, and students at the university. We were all so busy we were unable to talk, but there was a comfort in a group of people working together silently.
The midday sun hit the back of my neck. I winced, having forgotten to put on sunscreen. I went to the water station, wetting my hands to put on the back of my neck. I hissed.
One of the players nodded at me, and I smiled, hoping it came off as professional. He wore a helmet, so I wasn’t sure who he was. I made a note to myself to learn all of the players’ names.
Then, I started the pickup process before sneaking off to grab lunch. I dumped the coolers, picked up the water bottles, and loaded one on the cart when Anderson walked up to me from the edge of the field. He generally worked with the major players, the quarterback, the defense line, the bigger guys. He wore his typical uniform again, somehow pulling off the polo look. I waved, half-assed. “Hey, boss.”
“Are you friends with Chip?” Sunglasses hid his eyes.
I hesitated, not sure where he was going with this. “Chip? Why?” I faced him, crossing my arms. Chip was one of the tight ends if I remembered my research.
“He's bad news.”
I almost laughed. Bad news? Who said that? Bad news were the druggies in high school. “Stay away from him.”
“Woah.” Talk about inappropriate. “I can make my own decisions. Thank you very much.” He didn’t need to know I had never spoken more than a hello to Chip.
His assumption and warnings were rude. I did not say anything when I went to go drop off the supplies to the cleaning area to finish after lunch. My stomach growled, and I hopped in the front seat. I loved my new cart. But, Anderson chose that moment to jump into the passenger seat. “Uh, need a ride?”
“I'll help you clean.” His tone was clipped.
I whistled. If he wanted to be a grump for no reason, he could be my guest. So, we drove in silence. I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, Logan waving at me as we passed the coaches. I smiled, earning a grunt from Anderson. Jeez Louise, he was cranky.
I pulled into the parking spot and began unloading the large coolers first.
Anderson flicked his wrist for me to get out of his way.
“Why must you do that? It is so damn rude.”
“What?” he asked, his voice turning high. “I'm helping you.”
“This motion.” I mimicked his wrist flick. “It is rude. It's dismissive, and people do it at the restaurant, and it makes me see red. I'm not a dog.”
His brows furrowed, the dark lines coming together. He ran a hand over his strong jaw with his mouth twisting. I wasn't in the mood to hear some bullshit excuse about him being a dick, again. So, I grabbed the water bottles and took them to the washer. I rinsed each one, then placed it in the rack. I shook my head, releasing a frustrated breath. I went back, grabbing the rest of them and noticed all the coolers were already taken care of. At least the big oaf had helped with those.
“Grace.” His voice broke my trance. He was leaning against the wall of the kitchen area.
I lifted a shoulder as a way of reply. He removed his sunglasses, putting them on his forehead in a way that only athletes could pull off. His blue eyes were sharp, cold, and dangerous.
“No one has ever told me that before.”
“That you're rude?” I scoffed, somehow braver than before. I had no problem speaking my mind now. “I doubt that.”
“No, I've been told that.” He sucked in his bottom lip, slightly, before continuing with his harsh unblinking eyes. “I meant no one has told me that hand gesture was rude. I do it all the time and think nothing of it.”
“It's dismissive and insulting.” I crossed my arms, daring him to argue with me. “No one has told you probably because you're scary.”
“Scary?” His eyes widened, a brow raising up in the process. Then, his tone turned all sugary sweet and soft. “I scare you?”
I sighed, releasing my arms and leaning back against the counter. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, but I wasn't one to back down. “You're intimidating with your muscles and blue eyes that don't blink. You're intense, and that intimidates most people.
His frown deepened. “I'm not scared of you, not like you'd hurt me physically or anything.”
His nostrils flared, and his hand stroked his jaw again. He took a breath, shaking his head, then he said something that shocked me. “I'm sorry.”
