We shared knowing smiles.
“Great then… I’ll meet you two downstairs in twenty.”
“Thanks again for the coffee,” Cage called as Thad walked out.
Thad held up a hand. “Don’t mention it.”
Cage sipped his coffee, his other hand casually shoved into his jeans pocket as if we hadn’t been half naked five minutes earlier.
For a lack of the right words to say, I sighed. Cage grinned. I eased the lid off my tea that was too hot to drink and set it down on the nightstand.
“I need to shower.”
He nodded.
“Sorry about Thad’s timing.”
Cage shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “You’re here for your job.”
“I should quit.”
He smirked. “You really should.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SLOW TORTURE
CAGE
Beijing wasanother world away in every sense. It was still technically my off season, not an accurate portrayal of my life. Well, it was my life. I always had an off season, it just wasn’t my average day every day. Following a girl to China also wasn’t part of my average day or any day for that matter. Was I crazy? Probably.
Flint blew up my phone with texts that I chose to ignore.
Flint:2 days. I told you 2 days was all you’d have. Obligations…
Flint:Every day you’re not training, some other quarterback is working to be better than you.
Flint:I hope she’s worth it.
Flint:I hope you get her out of your system before the season starts.
Flint:It’s driving me fucking mad that you’re not responding!
The hardest part of the day was not envisioning Lake’s breasts because I’d seen them and I couldn’t un-see them, not that I wanted to, but it did things to certain parts of my body that made the day less than comfortable. When we arrived at the sports facility with extremely tall climbing walls, Thad said a “team” would be there to evaluate Lake’s climbing in the newprototype leg. I didn’t expect a large, roped-off area just for her with twenty other people taking photos, video, typing notes on their iPads, and shooting an insane amount of questions at her as she climbed the wall like a monkey.
After several hours of climbing, they whisked her off to the pool, leaving a trail of people with cameras scurrying to catch up to her. Lake emerged from the locker room, and I broke out into a sweat. Dear God… she fucking owned that swimsuit. I couldn’t stop staring at her tits—breasts. Who was I kidding? It was my dick talking, and they were tits.
Everything she did left me without a single coherent thought or articulate word to say. The woman was good—really good. An athlete that showed no disability. She drew a crowd. I hadn’t expected that. She laughed, answered all questions, and exchanged playful banter with Thad and Jerry. Lake engaged with everyone around her, and they loved her. I grinned like an idiot, wearing my baseball cap low to ward off recognition, but I was nothing more than the tall guy standing in the way of getting a good picture of Lake Jones.
However, plenty of people still took my picture. Jerry told me it was because I was white and very tall, not that they necessarily recognized me. Apparently, Thad was photographed a lot too. Jerry said most people assumed he was probably an NBA player.
After another two hours with four different versions of the prototype, Thad and Jerry gave Lake the rest of the day off. I thought we should go back to her hotel room because that’s what any normal guy would think after focusing on her body all day.
“I’m starving. Lunch?” Lake asked as she came out of the locker room in a pair of jeans, black Nikes, and a tight, whitelong-sleeved shirt. She’d released her damp hair from its ponytail.
“You’re quite the celebrity here.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s just because they tape off the area. People are drawn to what they believe is off limits. A dead person in the street with a chalk outline draws a crowd too. Doesn’t mean they’re a celebrity.”
