“I got an A.” I open the classroom door and hold it for her to walk through. “You?” I hook her around the shoulder and pull her to one side of the busy breezeway to keep her from getting plowed over.
“B plus.” She groans and sets her jaw stubbornly. “Should’ve been an A. I studied so hard.” Her gaze darts to mine. “Did you even study? How does this stuff come so easy to you?”
My brain works in fucked up ways. I did well in school so my stepdad didn’t have another reason to smack me around. Not that he needed one. Or, maybe all those hits to the head opened up some part of my brain I wasn’t using that made me a goddamn genius.
“Get your paws off my woman.” Rowan’s boyfriend Carey shoves me playfully from behind. He lifts her off the ground like she weighs nothing and walks a few steps nuzzling her neck. “I missed you.”
She giggles and squirms. “It hasn’t even been two hours.”
Her frown from earlier is erased by Carey’s presence. I find it fascinating that two people can have that kind of effect on each other. Women have never provided me with more than a quick and temporary relief—more of a distraction than a remedy.
“Theodore!”
I freeze mid-step at the sound of my full name. And I’m not the only one. Carey steps shoulder-to-shoulder with me, his big body radiating tension. The sun lights up a head of thick blonde hair as Emery closes in on us. She looks like a prep-school student body president in her khaki slacks and pale-yellow cardigan, complete with pearl buttons.
She stops in front of me, and eyes Carey and Rowan curiously.
“Don’t call me that.” I grip the straps of my backpack to keep from grabbing her and shaking her buttoned up look loose.
“Isn’t it your name?”
“Nobody calls him that,” Carey says with a heavy warning in his voice.
Most people find him intimidating, but she smiles at him as if he’s a puppy. As if his defensive response pleases her.
“What do you want?” I know she’s after something. She doesn’t strike me as the type of woman who’d waste her time with someone she couldn’t use to further her cause.
Her eyes come back to me. “You left in such a hurry we didn’t get a chance to exchange numbers.”
“Why would we do that?” The way we left things, with Coach breathing down my neck, made it obvious there wouldn’t be a repeat of our night together. “You’re hot, but football’s the only thing keeping me out of jail. There’s plenty of pussy that won’t get me kicked off the team.”
“Spider!” Rowan sounds worried, as if maybe I’ve insulted the woman, but she doesn’t know Emery like I do. She may be soft and delicious on the outside, but inside she’s forged steel and sharp edges.
Emery crosses her arms at her chest. “He has no power over you or me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. He has the power to make my life a living hell.”
She chews her pink-glossed lip as if thinking things over. “Okay.” She shrugs. “You’re not nearly as brave as I thought.”
I smile slowly, all teeth as I bite back the urge to give in to what she wants, to lose my temper and prove I’m the unstable loaded gun she can aim at her dad. “Safe to say, you’re not what I expected either.” I eye her from her pink headband to her leather top-siders, noting the contrast of her virginal look versus how she liked it when I pulled her hair and spanked her ass. She bit and scratched and purred like a kitten.
She turns her attention to Rowan. “I’m Emery, by the way.” They shake hands politely. “I like your shirt.”
Rowan grins, clearly won over by the cat in preppy clothing. “Thanks. Most people don’t get it.”
“It’s a physics pun. Don’t be a jerk. The time derivative. It’s funny.” The pretty psycho grins.
“Exactly.” Rowan’s eyes light up as if she’s seeing land after months lost at sea. “I haven’t seen you around, are you a new student?” Rowan taking an interest in this chick is not good. Next thing, she’ll be inviting her over for dinner and study dates and I need Emery to stay as far away from me as possible.
“I am. Just graduated from Pontus Academy in Massachusetts.”
Mass? That explains why I didn’t know Coach had a kid.
“Thrilling conversation,” I say sounding bored. “But we need to be on the field in thirty.”
Her blue eyes register no apology. “Of course. Don’t let me hold you up.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Rowan says as Carey pulls her along. “I’ll see you around sometime. We should grab a coffee!”
When we’re far enough away that we can’t be overheard, Carey asks the burning question. “Is that the chick you hooked up with after the game?”
“Yeah.”
He chuckles. “You ghosted her pretty hard, man. What were you saying about the team?”
I bite the inside of my mouth, feeling the pinch and tasting the blood. “Brawley.”
“What about him?”
“Emery is Coach’s daughter.”
Carey stops walking, the news seeming to slam him in the gut and still his progress. “Tell me you’re joking!”
“I wish I were.”
Chapter Four
Spider
We’re halfway through warm-ups with our strength and conditioning coach when Brawley stomps onto the field. I haven’t seen him since I stood with my nuts in my hands waiting for him to beat me.
I’m not afraid of him. I’ve taken more beatings than I can count, both on and off the field. I am terrified about him taking away my only outlet—football. He could bench me for the season, for the rest of my career if he wanted to.
“Web!” He waves me over.
Carey lifts his chin. “Need a wingman?”
“Nah, I got it.” I jog to Coach and push my sweat soaked hair off my forehead. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk.” He heads toward the benches expecting me to follow.
I do.
Once there he adjusts his BSU ball cap as if it’s lined with spikes and he’s trying to find the most comfortable position. “About Emery.”
“I didn’t know she was your kid.”
He nods solemnly. “I believe you.” He looks around as if to gauge who might be listening, then mumbles, “I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“I’m not gonna tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.” I’d be an idiot to dig myself any deeper than I already have by banging his daughter.
His expression pinches, as if he’s not completely comfortable with whatever he’s about to say. “Emery is pissed at me.” He breathes heavily, finally takes off his uncomfortable hat and takes the bench. He braces his elbows on his knees and runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “We lost her mom when she was nine. I was a mess and I didn’t know how to raise a little girl. I sent Emery to boarding school.”
I grit my teeth together at the thought of a young Emery being shipped across the country by her only living parent while mourning the loss of her mom.