Page 12 of Nailing Heat
Amelia nods. “Well, you’re here now and hopefully they let you.” I don’t miss the warm smile that spreads across her lips when she finishes speaking.
I return the smile. “Yeah, I’m here now.”
A bit of determination settles into my chest. These girls might be a young, healthy, new, but someone needs to make sure they stay that way. That is where I’m going to come in. Our dinner ends and I move to clean up the kitchen.
“What can I help with?” she asks.
I turn at grin at her; I notice her fingers are fidgeting slightly while she waits for me to answer. “I’ve got this, you go get rest. You’ve got a game tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” she smiles sweetly at me. “And thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” I turn off all the lights and head down the hallway to the bathroom. After a much-needed teeth-brushing, I stop momentarily outside of Amelia’s door. I want to say good night, but I don’t want to seem presumptuous about our relationship, so I continue to my room and close the door. I step out of my shorts and pull my T-shirt over my head before sliding into bed to appreciate the mattress I splurged on. I lay back and place a hand behind my head. My mind drifts back to seeing her fresh out of the shower. The way the hot water made her skin look red and flushed. Her wet hair pulled away from her face, showing those wide eyes and plump lips. Don’t even get me started on that body. The curves, the softness. Perfection.
Chapter Five
~AMELIA~
Dex was gone when I woke up. It was nearly seven in the morning, and the man had already decided to get a jump on the day. I walk out to find a coffee mug sitting in front of my espresso machine with a note attached to it.
One of these days you need to teach me to use this machine. I’ll admit I couldn’t figure it out. That’s a fine piece of machinery you have there, peach. Please teach me to use it.
I smile as soon as I start reading his note. But his nickname for me, peach, makes me stop and stare at it for a beat before I continue reading. We barely know each other but he gave me a nickname.
Weird.
I snicker as I go to work on making my own latte. I kinda like it that he couldn’t figure it out and needs me to teach him. I understand why he had so much trouble. When I received my signing bonus and bought this top-of-the line machine, it took me two weeks of practice before I was able to successfully make a cup of coffee. It was a splurge, sure, but the rest of the money went responsibly into the bank.
I am nothing if not serious about my coffee. I’m not the typeof girl who says give it to me black. Oh no, I’m one of those women with a complicated Starbucks order that I can now make at home. And I’m proud of it.
Two hours later I’m locking my door and heading out of our Blaze-provided apartment complex to the field. My bright red Audi A3 is shining brightly in the parking lot. I look around and note that Mac’s and Cassie’s cars are gone. Hendrix is getting ready to climb into her black convertible BMW- that baby is her pride and joy. I wave and she returns it.
“I’ll see you at the field!” she shouts. I watch as she climbs in, and the top makes it way down. It’s a short drive but there is one thing I’ve learned from watching Cassie and Hendrix drive around Tampa - if they can keep the tops off of their cars, they will.
“See ya!” I shout back before placing my backpack into the back of the car. I sigh, my hands hugging the black leather steering wheel. I grimace a bit as I shift in my seat.
“Black leather is so fucking hot in Tampa.”
The car revs to life and I peel out of the parking lot after Hendrix. This car moves. And I’m great at driving it above the speed limit. The girls tell me that I have a lead foot, but I don’t care. I’m careful. I have a fast car that loves to move. And this baby can corner like no one’s business.
I was so happy when my brothers found me this car. I can’t be sure which one as no one can seem to agree on who exactly found it. I know that back in North Carolina, this was checked out thoroughly at one of the two garages they run together. I like that they started a family business together, but part of me worried they would expect me to join them.
The twins Scott and Sanders have six years on me, while the triplets that mama was blessed with, Ivan, Ian and Isaac, are four years older than I am. I think by the time I came along, my mama was ecstatic to have a daughter.
But being the baby in a family of boys had its share ofhardships. On more than one occasion, a boy who liked me was threatened within an inch of his life by one of them. And dates to dances were so hard to come by, which meant going stag or just with girlfriends because no one wanted to take out the West girl out of fear that the West boys would have his balls on a platter.
The stadium comes into view, and I immediately feel those game day butterflies in my stomach. I breath in and out, slowly like we learned in yoga class, in an attempt to control my nerves. This is the thrill and roller coaster of emotions that makes the journey that much sweeter. I still can’t believe that I get to live out my dream of playing professional soccer like this.
I see that Cassie and Mac are already here. Their game day tradition of arriving early and walking the field is still intact. I can’t show up that early - the nerves would get overwhelming for me, and I might have a mini-freakout, but I’m glad it works for them.
I hoist my backpack out of the car and gently kick the door shut with my foot. Munching on a protein bar, I make my way through the stadium, admiring the yellow and blue stripes on the wall that tell everyone whose house this is. I feel a strong sense of pride that I earned the right to belong here.
I hear excited chatter as I reach the locker room, where the rest of the team is getting dressed for the game. The smell of cleaning chemicals greets my nose, indicating that the maintenance crew prepared our space before my arrival, as they always do for home games. Each teammate I pass on the way to my locker gives me a nod, a high-five, or, in one case, a soft kick in the shorts.
I reach my locker to find my clean and pressed uniform hanging on its designated peg. The sight of it reminds me that I need to get dressed and get my head ready for this game. Gotham FC is an ambitious team, and I silently vow not to let their striker get by me.
I pull my hair up in my signature slick back, grabbing the balm from my bag I using it to make sure there are no flyaway hairs in sight. I apply a bit of sunscreen to my face to make sure I don’t burn in the Tampa Bay sun. I add ChapStick to my lips and stop for a moment. My fingers linger on them, remembering back to our dinner last night and how delicious the tacos were that Dex made. I smile thinking back to it.
“You good?” Dana, another one of the defense players asks me.
