Page 12 of Personal Foul
“I know you’re new to Miami, to the team. We both are, and I know you hadn’t expected to walk into practice today to find out my dad is also your coach.” I pause, rubbing my hand over my face, hoping to ease the tension of this conversation. I never dreamed I’d find myself in this position.
“I know I mentioned I recently graduated. I’ve been studying business for the last four years, and when this opportunity came up, I couldn’t let it pass me by,” I sigh. “I just started this job. You just started here with the team. I know how this could turn out for both of us if things were to go sour, and I don’t want that hanging over my head.”
“Why are you sorry, exactly?”
Sorry?I pause, trying to run through everything I just said. More like rambling and spit out at him. I was so desperate to get the words out that I’d practically word vomited everywhere.
“Well, I guess everything. For TMZ breaking the news, for last night.” I pause, hearing his sudden inhale of breath before plastering a fake smile on his face. “I mean, for having to get called in on your first day of practice and then finding out who I am the way you did. I want you to know I had no idea who you were. I mean, I know who you are, and I’ve heard your name, but not well enough to put a name with your face. You have to know I didn’t plan this.”
Catching me off guard, he asks, “Do you regret last night?”
“Are you serious?”
“Well, you seem to have everything all figured out. You came over here, seemingly prepared to play it off like you didn’t enjoy it, like you had written me off, you just needed to get through the whole task of, well… telling me.”
My mouth drops open at the idea he would think I regretted it, like I was now somehow trying to brush it under the rug like it never happened. He’s a basketball player for heaven’s sake. He could have his pick of beautiful women ready and waiting for a night with Colson Rush. He’s handsome and sweet, and Lord if he doesn’t know his way around a woman’s body.
Except, looking at it from his perspective, I guess I can see why he’d think I regretted it.
“No, Colson. Of course, I don’t regret last night. It was more than all right…it was incredible.”
“Then what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal?” I scoff. “Well, the little fact that my dad is your boss?”
“No, he’s not. He’s my coach, but he’s not my boss. I’m a grown-ass man, Sydney.”
“This isn’t what I wanted. It’s not how I expected this conversation was going to go.”
“Do you want to go get dinner?” he asks, changing the subject entirely, practically giving me whiplash. I’m not sure whether I want to thank him for giving me an out or ask him why the hell he’d want to spend time with me.
“You need to stop thinking so much. C’mon.” He reaches for my hand again, helping me to stand. I feel wobbly on my feet as he drops my hand, reaching for my waist to help steady me.
“If you wanted to be in my arms again, all you had to do was ask.”
I narrow my eyes, daring him.
“C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m starving, and I need something to distract me from wanting to kiss you again. There’s this pub around the corner I saw on the drive home advertising their dinner menu. Let’s go check it out.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he dashes down the hall to grab his wallet. Thankfully, I had half a mind to stick my cell phone in my pocket, along with my keys and my cards. I have everything I need to make a quick trip down to the pub for dinner.
“I’m ready if you are,” he says, heading down the hallway. He changed into a pair of denim jeans and white tennis shoes to match his crisp white T-shirt, complementing his tanned skin.
My eyes roam over his body, down to the denim-covered muscular thighs. Even the watch sitting on his wrist looks sexy, the dark-brown leather, simple yet rugged. I’ve always been a sucker for the athletes with their confidence and the way they carry themselves, but Colson is in a league all his own. I’m quite positive he could wear a brown paper sack and still manage to make it look sexy.
We take the elevator down to the lobby, cutting out of an exit-only door to the side street. Since Ireland’s Pub is only around the corner, it is a quick walk. My knee is still sore and stiff but feeling much better today. Thankfully, the media who had been circling us, or well, him, yesterday has since disappeared.
It only takes a couple of minutes for us to step up to the small, dark bar with the neon lights hanging in the small front window. Dark bricks encase the front with a green awning hanging overhead.
Colson points between the booths lining the back wall over to the barstools near the bar. I shrug my shoulders before gesturing to the booth in the corner away from the prying eyes of strangers, although it’s surprisingly quiet even for a weeknight.
Colson nods, pressing his large palm to my lower back, warming me through my clothes as he guides me toward the empty table. I slide across the bench seat as he takes the spot across from me. He reaches for the menu, immediately scanning what’s available, and I do the same. The sooner we can order and eat, the sooner I can head back home.
Although, once the thought crosses my mind, I immediately wish I could take it back. It’s not that I don’t want to be here with him. I have a lot on my mind after our conversation. When I’m around him, I seem to lose all sense of right and wrong.
I keep replaying his comments about my dad being his coach, but he’s not the boss of him or his decisions. He’s right! We’re both adults; I’m a grown woman. It’s not that I’m worried about what he could say or think; it’s more what could happen if word got out or if things went south between us.
I just started with the Miami Blaze. This is a fantastic opportunity, a chance for me to make this my career. I want to be here long past when my dad retires. I don’t need or want a fling to ruin my reputation or give off the perception I’m here as a way of meeting and dating players on the team.
