Play Me (2 page)

Oh here we go
. “Plenty. Been practicing all summer. We’re taking the
Muleriders
back to the championship this year.”

“That’s great to hear¸ son. I’ll be looking out for you. Now you get back to your house and sober up before Coach catches you.” He winks and disappears from my window. One of the pros of living in a small town.

The gas station is basically empty when I swing open the double doors. A florescent light flickers down the middle aisle, and I squint against the brightness.
Damn I need some Tylenol.
The cashier, an older man, is playing with his phone on the counter and doesn’t even look up.

After I get my water and medicine, I stand in front of the gum. I can imagine how my breath smells right now. Not that it matters. I don’t plan on making out with Dom when I get back to the apartment.

My hand hovers over the gums.
Trident or Big Red?

“You’re fucking unbelievable.” A whisper.

What. The. Fuck.
Looking up, I see the brunette from the party standing on the next aisle over. She’s sneering at me from across the aisle … again. Her green eyes narrowed. A wicked smile rises from the corner of my mouth before I can stop it. “Well, I’ve been called a lot of things but that’s definitely my favorite so far.”

Her jaw clenches. “You’re drunk!”

I lift an eyebrow. The clerk stands up behind the counter and stares his beady eyes over at us. “Everything is fine, sir. Girl’s crazy.”

Her lips part but then she snaps them shut. “You just got out of a fuckin’ ticket and you’re drunk!”

Walking around, I watch as she marches to meet me at the beginning of the aisle. I hadn’t noticed how sexy her legs are until now. The dim fraternity house lights did not do this girl justice. Too bad she’s a fucking lunatic. She’s holding a water and a Snickers bar at her side, but her fingers are clenched around them. “Stalking me now?”

She tilts her chin upwards. “Yeah, right. Like I’d waste my time.”

I smile down at her, taking a step toward her. She stands her ground, staring up at me with narrowed eyes. A shame since they’re so pretty. “And yet, here you are spending your Sunday night with me at a gas station. Sounds like you’re stalking to me.” I shrug.

Opening her mouth to say something, she snaps it shut. “Whatever.”

I watch her twitch over to the counter and place her items down. Walking up beside her, I push my arm in front of her and place my items down. “All together, please.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can buy my own things.”

Rolling my eyes, I slide in-between the counter and her. “All together, please.” The cashier furrows his brow and starts to ring it up.

“Don’t you dare,” she snarls out. “Charles, don’t do it.”

Charles?
Dude does not look like a Charles.
How does she even know him?
He’s forty. With a heavy sigh, he rings it up anyway. She snarls as I put a ten down. Resting my elbow on the counter, I slide the items to her with my pinky. “Here ya go, darlin’. On the house.” She hasn’t moved from her spot. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of I have to go be as annoying and destructive as I can. Ya know, because I’m fucking unbelievable.” I wink. “Now you have an awesome night … “I trail off for her name but she just presses her lips harder together. I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll save that for next time.”

And with that I leave.

“Charles, you ass,” I hear as the doors shut behind me.

Chapter Two

Roxanne

“No, Beth. I need you to keep him until my shift is over at six.”

Jesus Christ.

Resting my head against the lockers in our break room, I try to calm myself down. This is definitely the con side of having a teenager watching your kid after school. She only has him for three hours and she acts like it’s all damn day. She never wants to actually
do
her job. It’s only my first day and the whining has already begun.
Great
.

“But I thought you said four not six,” she whines.

Sighing, I fix the buttons on my blue polo and try to keep my hair from falling out of my ponytail for the fiftieth time. “Beth,” I say carefully, because I don’t want her to quit.
Then what the hell would I do?
“I need you to stay until I get home. I’ll be home in a bit.”

A loud huff. “Okay.” Click.

Bitch.
It’s not like I have a choice in leaving Maddox home alone. I have to work to pay the bills. And I have to finish college … only one more year. One more year. Having a four-year-old, barely enough cash to pay our rent and no child support is tough. But I put myself in this position. Well, Ryan did. He’s the one that got dragged down by bad people. He left our bed to go get acquainted with some of
Mary Jane’s
distant friends. He was gone eighty percent of the time. He wouldn’t talk to me.
Me.
After four years of dating and birthing his son he couldn’t come to me for help. I had to leave. Not that it wasn’t for the better because it was. Some shady people had started to hang around the house, waiting for Ryan to get home from work. If he was even at work. I never saw any of those paychecks, but I’m sure he spent a majority of it on drugs.

Well,
good fucking riddance
.

Loud voices echo from the hallway, and nerves flutter in my stomach. It’s my first day as an athletic trainer for the Muleriders. It’s not that I’m nervous about the actual work but more of not messing this up. It’s going to look great on my application. Being a physical therapist major, this job basically screamed my name.

“Roxanne, right?” someone asks from the doorway.

How long has she been standing there?
Another trainer, Sarah I think, is staring at me form the hallway. Her blue eyes are bright and with her blonde hair it gives her a baby dollish look. “Yes, but you can call me Roxy.”

She gives me a warm smile and gestures for me to follow her. “The
boys
are here,” she says in a seductive voice. “It’s raining muscled, college-aged football players, baby!”

I hide my smile and follow her down the hallway toward the training room. The door is open and I see shadows casting against the furthest wall. No noise is coming from the room.

Sarah pushes the door open and walks in like she owns the place. The position coach, Coach Turner, who hired me, is standing in the center of the room looking out at a room full of football players. Not that he would ever be intimidated. He’s a huge man. No hair, dark chocolate skin and muscles the size of my head.

My eyes flutter to the floor as I take my place beside Sarah against the wall. Two male trainers are on the other side of Coach Turner oblivious to anything other than their phones.

“Let’s get these guys taped up, girls. You’re in charge of the defensive team. Boys, you’re in charge of the offensive players. Follow me this way.”

And he leaves … just like that. The vibe in the room automatically lightens and all the players file into their chairs and start yapping. It smells like sweat in here but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. I know how to tape player’s ankles and obviously Sarah does too. She sashays over to the left side and starts taping a dark haired boy’s ankle.

Shit.

With my eyes still turn downward, I grab the tape from the box on the counter and start on the right side. I get through four players before someone taps my shoulder. Glancing up, I see a guy I’ve never seen before staring down at me. He must have some kind of Latino blood in him because he’s dark complected, with long jet black hair that’s tied at the nape of his neck. “Hi,” he says. Definitely detect a Spanish accent.

I tightly wrap the tape around his ankle. “Hi.”

A smile rises from the corner of his mouth causing a dimple to indent. “I’m Blake Martinez. You’re one of the new trainers, huh?”

I don’t look up because my face is in front of his crotch. “Yes, I’m Roxy.”

“Nice to meet you,
Mami
,” he says, offering me his hand. Looking all the way up, I shake it. He’s actually pretty cute.

“You, too–,”

A loud exaggerated cough comes from beside Blake and I glance up.
What. The. Hell.
Weston is sitting beside him. His thick legs sprawled out in front of him, his tattooed arm resting behind Blake’s head. And an
I-know-you-want-me
look on his face.

As if I care that he’s sitting there, he smiles. “Did I sleep with you?”

What. The. Hell!
My eyes snap to his. “You wish.”

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees. An overwhelming scent of sweat and man hits my nose. “Oh, you have no idea,
Roxy
.” Sliding his tongue against his thick, bottom lip, he sits back against the foldout chair. “That name fits you.”

Asshole
. Everyone knows Weston Garrison. SAU’s prized possession and obviously the town’s golden boy, since he gets out of tickets when he is clearly drunk off his ass. And of course I ran into him at the party completely buzzed. I’ve never been one to hold my tongue, but add some tequila and every thought imaginable spills out of me like word vomit.
God!
And then there is the gas station incident, like spilling beer down my shirt wasn’t enough.

I ignore him, sliding over to Blake’s left foot. Sarah is getting close to meeting me in the middle. Hopefully she’ll get to Weston before I do. Taking my time, I wrap Blake’s ankle tight. “Are you a freshman?”

What? Oh.
I laugh. “No, a senior actually.”

His shoulders move when he laughs. “I haven’t seen you at any parties or around campus. That’s why I asked.”

“I don’t–,”

“Oh, she’s a trip at parties, bro. Spills drinks on herself, busts in on people while they’re trying to use to the bathroom.” Weston leans closer jabbing his finger toward me. “Definitely a party animal, that one.”

Anger rages inside me. “Yes, because Weston Garrison has such a fabulous party image. Drunk off his ass, can’t walk straight, and fucks anything that doesn’t have a penis between its legs.”

Weston’s gaze pins me to my pathetic place kneeling on the floor, until he sits up quickly and bends down to look me in my eyes. “And why do you care so much about who I
fuck
?” he whispers. Every molecule in my body quivers as he says
fuck
.
Am I breathing? God, I need to check. Yes, I’m breathing … I think.

A tension is sizzling between us as he watches my lips with his dark eyes, not giving a damn that I’m watching him. Wait … weren’t we talking about something? Shit!

“I don’t care who you
fuck
, Weston. I don’t care what you do. Now get out of my face and wait your turn.”

I don’t dare look up at Blake, because I know my embarrassment is written all over my reddened cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says lowly. The deepness of his voice settles chills against my skin. I’m shivering.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Sarah scoots toward Weston. But he rests his hands on her shoulders and guides her up. “Me and Roxy have an appointment,” he says, smiling down at me.

Dammit.
Sarah stands and wiggles her brows at me before disappearing out of the door. Only a few players are left and most are adjusting their shoulder pads before going out. Sliding over, I sit in front of Weston. He adjusts his legs and widens them, relaxing his large hands on his upper thighs. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life and he knows it. That would explain the smug grin. Sitting between his open legs, my face inches away from his
junk
is not how I imagined this job going.

Just hurry and get it over with.

Grabbing the bottom of his foot, I hold it in my hand as I wrap the tape around his ankle. Jolts of heat swarm my face and I pray the few pieces of hair that have fallen from its ponytail are hiding my blush. “So, Roxy. Did you enjoy the party last night?”

I did until I ran into him. I rarely go to any parties but my friend Erica dragged me to this one, leaving Maddox with her mother who adores him. “Yes.”

My fingers shake as I grab the tape and tear it from the roll. A low, deep laugh comes from his throat. “No offense, but you don’t look the
party
type.”

What’s that supposed to mean?
“You mean because I don’t look like the blonde you were fucking in the bathroom?
So
sorry to disappoint.”

A soft fingertip touches my chin and I recoil from the warmth. Unable to help it, my eyes turn up, catching his dark brown gaze. A chunk of blonde hair falls in front of his eye. “I never said I was disappointed, stalker.”

Chills rake over me, so I push his hand away. “Such charming words. I’m sure every girl in the school has heard them.” Tearing the last of the tape, I stand up in front of him. He doesn’t move, but his eyes rape me from head to toe. It’s not that impressive, especially since we have to wear khaki pants and blue polo’s. A dirty blond eyebrow lifts and he sucks his bottom lip in his mouth.

He’s pinning me in place. His long limbs outstretched, looking oddly graceful for someone so big. “Only the ones that deserve it,” he says.

“Right. Well, nice catching up. I need to go.”

A breathtaking smile breaks from his face. If he wasn’t gorgeous already his smile sure sent him over the ten mark on the hotness scale. “The door is right there,” he says, tossing his head toward the open training door.

Okay, more like a six.
Rolling my eyes, I speed walk out of the door and down to the lobby.

***

The football player’s practice lasts until six fifteen, which means I’m fifteen minutes late to relieve the babysitter.
Of course.

We refill the water and ice buckets as they wrap up practice. Only one player hurt himself and it’s on the offensive side which means one of the male trainers will wrap him. Coach requests all players be wrapped before practice to prevent accidents.
Maybe I should loosely wrap, Weston’s?