Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
One thing is for certain, I’m not leaving the locker room until I figure out who the mystery girl is. The low hum of conversation that drifts from Coach’s office only piques my curiosity further.
I take a step toward the door before skidding to a halt.
Right… I should probably get dressed first.
With a muttered curse, I grab my boxer briefs and yank them up my thighs. This is followed by sweatpants, a T-shirt, and my Western U sweatshirt. Add the socks and shoes, and I’m good to go. I sling my duffel over my shoulder and make my way toward the office.
Since the door is cracked open, I pop my head in. With a frown, the older man’s brows shoot up, and his conversation dies a quick death.
“What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had left.”
The terse question he fires off only solidifies my sneaking suspicions that he’s not thrilled to see me.
I glance at the girl sitting on the other side of his desk. She eyes me with a cool, unreadable expression. It’s a far cry from the heated look she’d given me while staring at my hard dick.
When Coach doesn’t immediately introduce us, I take matters into my own hands. “Hey there, I’m Hayes.”
She barely acknowledges me. Just a halfhearted chin lift and a flat “Hi.”
Awkward silence stretches between us. When she doesn’t give me anything further to work with, I turn my attention back to Coach and wait for him to fill in the blanks.
With a scowl, he reluctantly mutters, “This is my daughter, Ava.”
I blink.
Well, damn.
“You’re Coach’s daughter?” I ask, totally thrown off my game.
“Yup,” she replies, not bothering to elaborate.
“Yes, she is,” Coach says, in that tone that clearly means back the fuck off and pretend you never met her.
Now I’m even more intrigued.
My gaze shifts back to the blonde—Ava—and I can’t help the slow smile that creeps across my face. “Nice to meet you.”
One brow slinks upward. “Was it?”
I chuckle. “Definitely memorable.”
When Coach clears his throat, I force myself to refocus. “Is there a reason you stopped by?”
Uh, yeah, there is. But I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate hearing that I’m here to figure out who manhandled my junk less than five minutes ago. So, I pull the first plausible excuse that comes to mind out of my ass.
“I wanted to double-check the times for the clinic.”
Coach relaxes, and his rigidly held shoulders lose some of their tension. “It’ll run from nine in the morning until one. I’ll send out an email later in the week with the drills we’ll run.”
I nod as my gaze slides back to Ava. “Sounds good. Looking forward to it.”
“Great. Thanks again for volunteering,” he adds, leveling me with a hard-edged stare.
I’m smart enough to know when I’m being dismissed. I can either walk out on my own or get tossed out on my ass, and I’d rather keep my pride intact.
Unable to help myself, I flick one more glance at the cool blonde. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”
Her lips twitch in what could possibly be a smirk. “Let’s hope not.”
Her icy attitude has a snort slipping free from me. Can’t say I don’t like it. The girl definitely has a bit of bite to her. It’s a refreshing change from the groupies who hang on my every word.
“If you don’t mind, close the door on your way out,” Coach says, interrupting my runaway thoughts.
“Will do.”
I shoot Ava one last grin before pulling the door shut and sauntering from the locker room.
3
Ava
Dad frowns at the frosted glass before his gaze resettles on mine. “You’re not acquainted with Hayes, are you?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Good.” The relief on his face and in his voice is almost comical. “Let’s keep it that way.”
I shift in my chair, eager to steer the conversation in a different direction. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. I was able to book the ice for six A.M.,” he says, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Only the janitorial staff will be around, so you’ll have the place all to yourself.” He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a keycard before holding it out to me.
I take it and try not to think too hard about how good that sounds.
“Thanks.” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “I really appreciate it.”
“Just don’t lose the card, or it’ll be my ass,” he warns, but his tone is light. “The only reason the athletic director agreed is because it’s all but certain that we’ve made it to the playoffs.”
“I won’t.” I tuck the card into my pocket and rise to my feet, ready to take off, but Dad pulls off his ballcap and rakes a hand through his hair, his expression shifting, as if he wants to say more but isn’t quite sure how.