Honestly.
I shake my head and walk to the therapy room to get ice and the usual things ready for after practice.Judging from that hit, I might need more than usual.
I frown as I consider the possible injuries and dismiss them one by one.
I mean Tank is certainly capable of doing serious damage, but I doubt he would to his own teammate.
It all happened so fast.
One second, I’d been rolling my eyes at Noah and his ridiculous, intense staring.The next he was flat on his back.
Seriously, the man is a menace.He should’ve been paying attention to what he was doing and not glaring at me.
I know I probably bruised his ego because I didn’t swoon the first time he looked my way.
But I mean, really.
He does this broody littlewatching-every-move-I-makething every time I’m within twenty feet of him.
And it is ridiculous.
I know what the real draw is.
I said no.
That’s it.That’s the whole mystery.
One New Year’s Eve proposition, a firm “not happening,” and now the man acts like I personally insulted his ancestors.
But what am I supposed to do?
Fall into bed with a hot rugby player with an accent just because he snaps his fingers?
Puhleeze.
I may be new here, but I’m not stupid.
These guys are players.
On the field.
And off the field.
If you know what I mean.
And sure, Noah Walker is, um,objectively attractive.
Dark hair.Amazing cheek bones.Cleft in his chin.Striking blue eyes.
Built like a brick wall.
But that’s exactly the problem.
Men like that don’t chase women like me.Not for real, anyway.Not for anything other than a quick roll in the hay.
And honestly?Who has time for that?
It’s ludicrous.
