“You’re not. Not in any way that counts.”
“I know you want to hurt me.” His eyes, the same blue as my own, are unwavering.
If he only knew how badly, he’d have me committed.
“If you insist on spending nights out, all I ask is…”
Here we go. He’s going to expect I call him and let him know who I’m with and when I’ll be home. Or maybe he’ll ask for the person’s name and telephone number as if I’m a ten-year-old girl who can’t take care of herself?
“Stay away from my football players.”
A renewed anger wells up inside me. As if I’m a cancer that might infect his precious team? I shouldn’t be surprised. He prioritized football over me ten years ago, too.
I push open the car door and hop out of the truck.
“Emery, I’m serious. Stay away from my team.”
A fist tightens around my chest, squeezing painfully. I slam the door behind me and leave him to his demands and lousy attempts of reconciliation.
The sooner he gives up on me, the better.
Spider
I was wrong about not seeing the last of Emery Brawley.
Where once I was seeing her every time I looked up—on campus, in the coffee shop, locker room—I haven’t seen her anywhere in over a week.
At first, I didn’t look. Why would I when the girl kept popping up around every corner? So I started to pay attention to the people around me, found my gaze jumping to every opened door, every glossy blonde head. Eight days and zero sign of her.
Did I imagine her? If it weren’t for the expensive perfume still scenting my bed sheets I may have believed she wasn’t real. But even after her scent faded I can still feel the ghost of her kiss on my mouth, the pinch of her bite, and the sting of her nails on my back.
She must’ve kept our last hook up to herself or Coach would’ve pulled me aside by now. He seems to be in a better mood, makes me wonder if Emery left town for good.
Was her showing up at my house to seduce me her way of saying goodbye?
Why the fuck does that make me want to put my fist through a wall?
“You’re growling.”
I whip my head around to see my roommate Loren standing next to me.
His gaze moves between me and the open refrigerator door in my hand. “What’s pissing you off? The fact that Rowan’s leftover Thai chicken is gone? Because that’s my bad.”
I look back into the fridge wondering how long I’ve been standing at the open door. “You’re a dick.” I close the door and shuffle to the cupboard to pull out the protein powder. “Her Thai chicken is my favorite.”
“Dude. It’s everyone’s favorite.” He swirls the contents of his shaker cup before taking a gulp. “And leftovers are fair game.” He drops onto a stool at the kitchen island. “I set my alarm for three o’clock this morning to get to them before any of you assholes.”
The back door flies open to reveal a sweat soaked Kaipo. “Fuck you guys.” Out of breath from our midday run, he braces his hands on his thighs and breathes hard.
Kaipo is a big ass Hawaiian who annihilates the opposing teams offensive line, but his cardio game is lacking. Every Saturday we go on a six-mile run and his big ass is always the last to get home.
Carey and Levi went straight to the pool to cool off while the rest of us gather in the kitchen to protein load.
The light footsteps of Carey’s girlfriend Rowan come down the stairs and the redhead freezes in the doorway. Her big eyes move around the space as she takes in three sweaty, shirtless men in the Martha Stewart style country kitchen. “You didn’t.”
I know exactly what she’s talking about so I point out the guilty, tattle-tailing on his ass. “He did.”
“Loren! I was going to take that to work for dinner!”
The Ken doll look-a-like shrugs with a cocky grin. “Then you should’ve hidden it. Come on, Ro, you know how this works.”
“I did hide it! I put it in an empty cottage cheese container and hid it back behind the almond milk.”
The three of us cringe at the mention. I don’t care how good Rowan claims the shit is for us, I refuse to swallow nut milk.
Loren is unapologetic as he brushes off the tiny woman. “You’ll have to hide it better next time.”
She sighs and squeezes past a still panting Kaipo to grab a protein bar.
The door swings open and Carey steps inside wearing a towel around his waist. He spots his woman and makes a beeline for her, wrapping her up and kissing her as if no one else was in the room. Rowan squirms out of his arms acting uncomfortable but has a big grin on her face.
“Call in sick,” Carey says in a deep voice that reeks of a man who wants to bury himself inside his woman, his hands roaming every inch of her body.
“I can’t.” She tries to wiggle away, but he doesn’t release her. “I’m training a new girl tonight.”
He groans and puts his face in her neck. The guy is so whipped it’s disgusting.
I decide to take my protein shake to my room when I hear a name that stops me in my tracks.
“Emery?” Carey says. “Coaches kid, Emery?”
Rowan frees herself from his arms. “She got hired for night shifts which sucks because I mostly work mornings, but we’ll be able to work together on a few weekends.”
The man snags her and pulls her back into his arms making her giggle.
Having heard all I need to, I continue up to my room.
Emery didn’t leave town.
She’s still around and obviously avoiding me.
And why do I care?
I wanted her to leave me alone. Didn’t I?
Well, fuck. Now I know where she works. That’ll make her easier to avoid.
As I step inside my bedroom my gaze snags on my bed. Conjured from my thoughts I can see Emery in her conservative schoolgirl outfit with her shirt open and her legs spread. I can feel the phantom beat of her pulse as it races against my palm, my fingers clenched around her throat, her breath coming in bursts. Lust spears through me and I groan.
Seems the kitten’s bite has left a mark.
Chapter Ten
Emery
“Let me get a two-twenty degree, no foam, soy cappuccino and a non-fat latte with caramel drizzle.” The pretty brunette decked out in her Victoria’s Secret Pink sweatpants and cropped tee flicks me her credit card.
I bite my lip to keep from asking the point of non-fat milk when it’s smothered in caramel and swipe the damn card.
“Meegan.” She lifts her brows. “The name for the order? You didn’t ask. It’s Meegan.”
I hand her card back. “It’ll be up shortly.”
She tucks her card back into her Louis Vuitton wrist wallet and I go about making her drinks.
Today is my fourth day on the job and the first hour I’ve been on my own. Thankfully, growing up at an elite boarding school has prepared me for pretentious coffee orders and I learned how to steam milk when I was twelve years old so being a barista isn’t a challenge. I do find the social aspect of the service industry to be highly annoying.
I set the made drinks on the counter. “Megan!”
The girl’s belly button ring catches the fluorescent light as she makes her way back to the bar. “You mean Meegan?”