Page 5 of The Fantasy League
Fucking idiots.
If the press got wind that I had a girlfriend, they would all jump at their shot for a front-page cover. Not happening.
“I—“
“No, son. It’s not up for discussion,” Coach abruptly cut off my attempt to protest. “I’m not asking you to get married. Just find someone to keep around for the next few months until we can get your image in line.”
Fuck.He was being serious.
“Just make sure it’s not my daughter. Got it?” Coach said sternly, his fists clenched on his desk.
Lea Sterling.
Fiery redhead who not only ran public relations for the Miami Matrix but also happened to be Coach Sterling’s only daughter. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the mastermind behind the rebranding charade Coach just pitched my way.
Phil Sterling was one of the best quarterbacks in the league when I was growing up. Turned out the guy was an even better coach than he was a player. Getting the call that I would be playing for him on Draft Night? Fucking surreal.
But before putting pen to paper on my first contract with the Matrix five years ago, he made one thing clear. He didn’t give a damn what was written in the contract; if I so much as looked at his daughter withlonging eyes, he would cut me from the team before I finished blinking.
I wasn’t shocked to find out all the other players got a speech to the same tune on signing day too.
Don’t get me wrong. Lea Sterling was a gorgeous girl, but I had my sights set on the five-two brunette who’d been making me breakfast every morning for the past eight months.
“You know who isn’t off-limits though?” Coach leaned back in his chair with a smug smile. “Lea’s friend… chef girl, what’s her name again?”
“Scarlett?” I asked, sitting up straighter in my chair at the mention of her.
“Yeah, her. Makes a mean banana bread, that girl.” Coach propped his feet up on his desk as he turned his gaze to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the practice field. “Lord knows you’ve had eyes on the girl since the day she came barreling through that door with that basketful of baked goods.”
Coach was making a lot of good points, and I wasn’t a fan of it.
I was the first to admit I had a crush on Scarlett the moment I laid eyes on her. How could a guy not when she looked that good and baked like afucking god?
The deal only got sweeter when Lea introduced us and informed me that Scarlett was my newest neighbor.
I knew I had to see her more frequently than just a wave across the street, so I took a chance and asked if she was looking for a job. I mean, she showed up at a sports facility full of two-hundred-fifty-pound men with multiple basketsful of food. The girl was either a saint or looking for a job.
Thank fuck to whatever gods were out there that I was the first to meet her and offer her the position. I doubted she would’ve taken another player’s offer anyway since the commute to my front door was only a couple hundred yards, but still.
Somehow after our initial five-minute meeting together, I fucked up everything and completely obliterated any chance that I had with her.
Her first day working for me, my brain short-circuited and I couldn’t form a coherent thought. To save myself from sounding like an idiot whenever I decided to open my mouth, I decided it best to not say anything at all.
She probably thought I was an asshole and for that, I wouldn’t blame her.
I knew I had fucked up immensely, but the thought of trying to convince her otherwise without sounding like an even bigger asshole didn’t seem like a possibility for me.
Every time I went to say something to her, my mouth would open, but the words I wanted to say would get caught in the back of my throat.
So, to save myself from internal turmoil, I laid low around the house whenever she was around and kept our conversations short, so I wouldn’t spend hours lying in bed replaying the entire conversation, trying to figure out what I could have done differently.
I looked over at Coach to find a sheepish grin still plastered on his face as he pressed his coffee mug to his lips and took a swig. “Traditionalist when it comes to dating,” my ass.
“I’ll think about it.” I pushed off the uncomfortable accent chair that was too small for someone my size and gave Coach a nod before walking out of his office.
Walking down the hallway of the training facility, I spotted Lea talking to two of the team’s biggest sponsors. “Sterling,” I muttered, walking up to the group. “And how are you fine men doing? I hope Miss Sterling has been on her best behavior.” I winked at the guys, slinging my arm around Lea’s shoulders.
She was going to murder me for this.
