Page 28 of The No Try Zone
Regrets? I’ve got a few. Starting with how I kept my hands and mouth to myself in Vegas, because I’ll never know what it’s like to worship a woman like Sam. And that’s the biggest regret of my life.
On a groan, I flip to my side, punch my pillow a few times, and try like hell to get some sleep.
Chapter11
Colin
THE MORNING FINDS me bleary-eyed and far from bushy-tailed. I’m only one cup of coffee into humanity, but a second dose is in the travel mug gripped tightly in my hand as I make my way to my car. The second I start the engine, a giant splat of bird shit hits the windshield.
I slump forward and let my head hit the steering wheel, needing its solidity to remind me that at leastsomethingis willing to support me. Inanimate or not. “I get it,” I mutter to the universe again. “I know. I know.”
Half an hour later, with a clean windshield and more than a little anxiety about walking from the car to the office, I’m welcoming Ryan and Elliott to their first day on the job. A bit later, Ansel Miles joins us for a dive into strategy.
“I asked them to watch the exhibition game you led,” I say as we kick the meeting off. “Was that really the only game you’ve ever coached?”
Ansel lifts his brows. “And the last for the foreseeable future,” he declares.
Elliott leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “You’re staying on as captain?”
“If the offer is there, then yes,” Ansel answers, looking at me.
“It’s there,” I confirm. “This is a critical year. The team needs your leadership. It shows them that we’re not changingeverything.”
“Just most things,” Ryan jokes.
Ansel leans back in his chair. “What kind of changes? Because I have some ideas.”
I click the pen I hold in my hand. “Let’s hear them.”
We spend the rest of the day meeting with the players one on one. The next day, we run the team through our first practice. It’s easy to see how they made it to the championship game, and already my mind fills with new plays and techniques to work on. I see the places where the backs need to work harder and the weaknesses to address in our forwards, and for the first time in my career, it’s me making the final decisions. It’s invigorating to be outside, the smell of the pitch in the fall Atlanta air reminding me that despite the epically huge mistake I made in Vegas, I’m still capable of making the right choices.
The rest of the week is blissfully normal, and Sam is nowhere to be seen. I expect to see her around every corner I turn, for my stomach to fall completely out of my body at the sight of her. The place isn’t that big, and her offices are right beside the workout facilities. But by some miracle, we manage to not run into each other.
Friday is an off day for the athletes, so after meeting with the coaches, I make my peace with the possibility of seeing Sam in favor of trying my luck with the weight machines. They’re relatively new, but already have that scent of metal mixed with sweat. Still, they’re far better than anything I’ve had before, and that’s thanks to some incredible sponsorships our marketing team has managed to pull together. It’s clear our marketing staff is determined to get as much of the professional sports teams benefits that Atlanta has to offer.
I’m at the leg press twenty minutes later, muscles twitching and ready to be done, when I hear her. Her accent isn’t as pronounced as you’d think here in the south, but accent or no, I’d recognize that sexy rasp anywhere. It’s one of the many reasons I lost my damn mind that night.
“Oh, come on,” she says, clearly cajoling someone, “you’re not even trying.”
“I’m telling you, that machine is the devil!”
I’m already up and wiping my face with the towel as they round the corner. Her attention is focused on none other than Carter Green, our peacocking winger and, if the sports press is to be believed, the team’s number one playboy. She’s wearing yoga pants and a fitted top in the team colors, her blond hair up in a high ponytail. He leans toward her, far too close for my liking, with a flirtatious smile on his lips as she looks up at him, every bit of her body language telling me she likes what he’s doing.
Immediately, my palms begin to itch as my chest flushes with heat. I pivot to leave, needing to get as far away from whatever they’re doing as possible.
“Hey, Coach!”
No such luck. I mentally curse, then exhale and turn to fully face them, unable to smile but hoping I at least have a normal look on my face. “Carter.”
“You’ve met Sam, right? One of our physical therapists?” he prompts.
Really, asshole?I want to throttle him. Does he actually think I wouldn’t have made it my business to meet every single person on the Granite team by now? Congratulations to me for not giving him fifty stadiums just for the crime of being oblivious.
“We’ve met,” Sam bites out, her jaw clenched, blue eyes blazing, ponytail practically vibrating with the tension she’s carrying. She absolutely wants to bludgeon me.Even angry, she’s fucking flawless. What I’d give to sink to my knees and worship every inch of her.
It’s never going to happen.
Carter bulldozes on, oblivious. “You’re cool with Coach, right? Or is it Coach Thicke? Just T? Coach T?”
