“Brock Heller,” he said, introducing himself. Not that he needed to. Every athlete within a thousand-mile radius knew Brock Heller by name, face, and, surprisingly, sultry voice. “Good to officially meet you, man.”
“You, too.” I met his outstretched hand with my own but winced when he shook it up and down.
“Sorry about that.” His lips kicked up to one side. Between his tousled blond hair and layered necklaces, the guy looked more like a beach bum than the Pacific Northwest’s most notable sports reporter. “That was one hell of a hit you took.”
I shrugged, but fuck, even that hurt. “Hazard of the trade.”
He nodded. “I won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to make sure you and your agent went over all the details for the profile?”
“Yeah. Everything sounds good to me.”
Based on the terms laid out by my agent, Brock would be traveling with the team during our away series next week. The entire team had been briefed . . . and bribed. I may or may not have promised to cover the costs for our post-season tripin exchange for my teammates talking me up. After months of deliberation, we had finally settled on a team cruise to Alaska.
Just what everyone needed—twenty-six grown ass men on a boat with unlimited alcohol and nightly karaoke.
“Perfect. I’ll follow up with your team next week.” His eyes fell to the notebook in my lap. “I’ll let you get back to your—”
“Songwriting,” I blurted out.
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true. Kendrick has nothing on me.”
His smile unnerved me.
It was difficult to get a read on Mr. Heller. Brock was no stranger to the press room, and aside from his surfer bro aesthetic, he was best known for his hard-hitting questions—pun intended. Having him write an article about me was both thrilling and terrifying. The guy could make or break a player’s career with a few clicks of a keyboard.
“Wow, I’m sure our readers will be interested to know that.”
Welp, that’s what I get for lying.
With that, he turned his Birkenstocks toward the door. I had just finished scribbling a reminder in my notebook to write a song before next week when he added, “Oh, and Jared?”
I looked up from the paper. “Yeah?”
“I look forward to hearing you spit some bars.”
It took me another forty minutes to make it out of the locker room, half of which I spent standing under the shower spray. My muscles bordered on Jell-O, a stark contrast to my bruised ribs.
Fuck, I could go for some Jell-O and ribs now.
I was halfway down the tunnel from the locker room to the staff parking lot when a voice shouted, “Jared, over here!”
Nessa caught my attention first, as she always did. She waited at the end of the tunnel, like a beaconing light calling me home, only this light looked none too pleased to be there. Tattoos dotted her bare skin, peeking out from beneath her overall shorts and sleeveless top. Tattoos looked great on most women; on Nessa, they were perfection.
She cocked her hip to one side and crossed her arms over her bountiful breasts.Such a shame.
As I got closer, my cock nearly burst out my pants when I spotted the hat on her head. A Roasters hat.Fuck.Why did that turn me on so much? I feared to think what might happen if I ever caught her in my jersey.
“We weren’t sure whether we should wait for you or not,” Kaylani added. I barely spared her and Ryan a glance. “But Ness insisted.”
“Yeah, she was worried about you,” June added.
“Is that true, angel?” I teased. “Were you worried about me?”
Nessa’s cheeks flushed in response. That was the only answer I needed.
I threw my bag down and tugged her into my side, linking our hands together and resting them on her stomach. She had set her boundary for kissing, and fake relationship or not, I didn’t fuck with people’s boundaries. If she wanted me to kiss her, she was going to have to say so. For now, I settled on resting my head against hers.
