Page 7 of The Pass Protection
“No worries, I didn’t know she was coming.” His eyes snap down to me, and there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. “And she decided to change her entire appearance.”
My eyes widen, and I bring my lip between my teeth before looking at the field before me. As much as I try to fight the pull, I’m a weak bitch. As subtly as I can, my head turns until I find the deep brown eyes, the ones attached to my new roommate.
Life sure loves to throw a plot twist your way.
“Riggsby, are you planning on catching a ball today, or would you like to stand on the sidelines watching everyone else?” Coach yells from behind the line where he’s watching us perform.
Shaking my head, I tap my hands on my helmet, hoping to clear the funk I’ve found myself in. Is it not bad enough I have to share an apartment with Bret Campbell, but now she’s showing up at practice? And after our awkward encounter last night.
Jogging into the huddle, I chance a quick peek at Harris, who is already watching me. His eyes bore into mine, and I can feel him telling me to focus.
Harris calls the play, and we all run to our positions on the line. My fingers twitch at my hips as I wait for the play to begin. The ball is snapped, and I take off straight down the field before faking right and going left in a diagonal route. The defenseman is on me, and I’m not able to shake him. I know the ball is in the air, and with a quick spin move, I jump into the air just as the ball hits my fingers. Curling my fingers, I pull the ball into my hands, securing the pass.
“That’s what I like to see,” Coach yells, and I can’t hide the excitement any longer.
An excited roar rips through my chest as I break out in a bit of a celebration dance. I’m feeling it right now. Jogging back to the huddle, wide grins greet me.
Coach blows the whistle twice in quick succession, signaling the end of practice. Helmets come off as we all move toward the fifty-yard line. My gaze moves past my teammates as I search for the raven-haired beauty. She’s standing alone on the sideline, dressed like she’s ready to hit the gym, and all I can think about is how good her legs looked dangling from our kitchen counter.
She’s the beautiful fruit dangling from the branch that is just out of reach. We’ve all been warned to stay away from her, but her sweet temptation is overpowering. It’s a craving I feel in every fiber of my being.
“Great practice, boys,” Coach praises from the center of the huddle, interrupting my thoughts about his daughter. “Be sure to check the schedule in the locker room for each position’s team meetings. Tomorrow, we’ll have all the details finalized for next weekend’s first game in Ohio.”
Our first game is quickly approaching. And as luck would have it, we are playing a team that isn’t far from my hometown.
It’s been a long time since I’ve played in my home state, and I’m excited for my family and friends to catch one of my games in person. Last week, when I talked to my mom, she said she was busy planning something big. But true to her, she wouldn’t spill the secret. My mom loves nothing more than surprising her kids and making us feel special. Has she always been the one to spoil us? Absolutely.
I follow the line of my teammates as we head off of the practice field, but not before giving her one last glance. It’s like she can feel the magnetic field because our eyes lock. At this moment, I can see the turmoil raging a war in her mind. Her smile doesn’t shine, and her eyes are filled with something I can’t quite put my finger on. Is it fear?
Who hurt her?
“Goddamn, Coach’s daughter is fine as fuck,” one of my teammates says inside the locker room.
Taking a deep breath, I ignore the jackass mouthing off about Coach’s daughter. I’m trying so hard to keep my cool and not show my cards. That’s not my style. A loud commotion sounds behind me as I reach for the sports drink bottle I left in my locker.
Looking over my shoulder, I watch Grant storm across the floor, fists clenching at his side. I make the hasty decision to step in line right behind Grant as he reaches the guy who was mouthing off. Before he can hit him, or whatever his plan, I’m sliding between the two.
Grant’s eyes widen at my interference. His hand flies above my shoulder as he points to our teammate. “Don’t you fucking talk about my sister like that again. I swear, I’ll kick your ass if I hear anything come out of your mouth again.”
Our teammate raises his hands in surrender as Grant’s chest heaves.
“That goes for all of you. My sister isoff limits.”
This altercation should clear the air if anyone has questioned his protectiveness toward his sister.
This is another reminder that I must keep my hands away from Bret Campbell.
She’s. Off. Limits.
Pulling into the parking lot, Harris has to park further away from our building than usual due to a moving truck taking up most of the road. Bret’s things must have arrived. Climbing out of the car, Harris and I walk toward our unit.
We step aside to let two of the movers through and overhear their conversation. “Damn, I would’ve killed to be those guys in college,” one guy says.
“Especially with a girl who looks like that, shit,” said the other.
Moving into their path, I allow my shoulder to bump into one of the douchebags. On contact, the guy stumbles to the side. “Oops, my bad,” I mumble, sarcasm dripping from my words as I continue toward the steps. Harris chuckles from behind me as he follows me up the stairs.
“What the hell?” Harris questions from behind me as we land at our floor. In front of us are piles of boxes and pieces of furniture. The door to the apartment stands wide open as music blasts from inside.
