Page 162

Technology integrated into nearly every useful surface.

Everything this team needs to train like the world-class athletes I expect them to become. My work here is done. I can turn around right now.

Instead, I make the critical mistake of walking closer.

“How's the new recovery equipment?”

“Great,” Dane says.

“Fucking amazing,” Tank adds.

“Good.”

“The little reporter gonna like it?”

I go still. Slowly, I turn my head toward Luca. He's smiling. I don't like that smile.

“What?”

“Your reporter,” he says.

“She's not my reporter.”

Four married men look at me. Not one of them believes me.

Interesting. Also irritating.

Koa folds his arms over his chest. “Sure.”

“She's a journalist working on a feature.”

“Uh-huh,” Tank says. “She is.”

“That’s all she is.”

“Of course. We never said she wasn’t,” Luca replies.

I look at Dane. “Control your players.”

“No.”

I stare at him.

He shrugs. “Season's technically over. We won. Remember?”

“I still pay you.”

“And Caro and I are very grateful.”

The bastard isn't even trying to hide his amusement.

I can take the ribbing.

Christ knows I've given these men enough shit over the years.

I've watched every one of them become completely fucking useless over a woman and enjoyed pointing it out whenever possible.

Apparently, the bill has come due.