Page 20 of Caught Up In You (Indigo Royal Resort)
“Three. That one, one at the bonfire, and another last night.” His voice had turned slightly accusatory.
“Last night?” she repeated, confused. Oh shit, had he sent her one during the bonfire? It wasn’t unusual for them to sneak away during that time for a quickie. She should have thought about that. And last night? What had happened yesterday that would have—oh, that’s right, she had bitched out Cruz. God, her mind had been so focused on him that she’d let everything else just fall off her radar.
“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind this week,” she fibbed. It wasn’t a complete lie. She did have a lot on her mind. A lot of Cullen Cruz.
“So, you’re not sneaking off with Cullen Cruz for late-night trysts and therefore don’t need me anymore?” His voice was teasing, as was the look on his face, but she felt the words like each one was a shot to the face.
Poor Carlos, if he only knew the half of it. He was such a sweet guy and she didn’t want him to get hurt. They’d both started at the Indigo Royal at about the same time and had become pretty fast friends, each relying on the other for miscellaneous needs as they learned the ropes. He was easily the best maintenance tech they had, and he was a shoo-in for the head of the department once Roy, the current manager, retired in a few years.
When they’d started what she referred to in her head as “the light bulb project,” they agreed it was just sex. Good sex, but still just sex. The agreement had served them both well over the last couple of years and she had no interest in complicating that with emotions. He’d been all in when she had made the suggestion of a friends with benefits arrangement, and never once complained when she reminded him that it would never be more—even if he did get a little boyfriend-y at times with some of the things he did for her, like supplying her with her favorite PMS snacks. But no matter how wonderful and sweet he was, no part of her was interested in more than a fun, physical release. And he really was smoking hot, he just wasn’t that stupid footballer.
“No, nothing like that,” she said, playing it off. “But you know his visit causes a lot of stress and Josef is at camp with him and all of it just has me on edge.”
“That’s why I figured some light screwing might help,” he said, trying really hard to make a light bulb euphemism.
“Any other time, maybe,” she said, looking at her watch. “But I’ve got to go grab Jo-bro. Raincheck?”
She didn’t even wait for his reply as she took off out of the room. She hated brushing him off like that, especially after apparently missing his texts. But for as much as it bothered her that Cullen had kissed her last night, Carlos’s kiss today felt wrong. And that was something she just couldn’t have.
Camp was moving right along, and Cullen was pleased to see pretty much every kid showing some kind of improvement. Even the kids that he would have labeled as hopeless at the start of the week had shown improvement in at least one area. To be fair, for some it was just their growing confidence level, but that was still something. There were a couple of kids who might need to be knocked down a peg or two when it came to their egos, but Cullen figured that life would bite them in the arse soon enough—he didn’t need to be the one to do it here.
Maybe this coaching thing could work out. He hadn’t been lying to Oliver when he said he was enjoying this week. In fact, it was the first time he’d felt this good since he was called into the Liverpool offices that day. It would still take a while to adjust to the idea of never playing again professionally, but having the chance to still be around the beautiful game would be better than nothing. The research he’d done on the team they were forming in Atlanta left him feeling somewhat inspired as well. It might be the American league, but the local billionaire who purchased the franchise had spent the last two years working with teams all over Europe trying to figure out exactly how he wanted to model his team. While this guy might be fronting the capital for the team, from everything Cullen had read, he was going to have very little to do with the day to day operations of it. Apparently, that was being handed off to a crack team of executives from all over professional sports, although none of the articles he’d seen had named any names. They even had a player or two already signed on from South America, which was extra impressive to Cullen who thought that if their knowledge of international geography was as rough as his, those kids probably had no idea what part of the US they were headed to.
“Remember, ball control matters more than speed,” he called out to the kids who were running drills in their breakout groups. “It doesn’t matter how fast you are if you can’t control the ball and someone steals it from you.”
Turning his attention back to the group right in front of him, his eyes immediately found the player that had been the center of his attention for most of the week—Josef Filipe. It didn’t matter what drill they were running or how long they had been at it, the kid excelled. The endless energy that came from him made Cullen’s head spin, and he wondered if there was a way to bottle it. If there was, he needed it. It was still hard to believe that he was thirteen given his small stature, but he would not be the first kid on the planet to grow into himself basically overnight. A couple of seasons ago there had been a kid in the Liverpool Academy who was skin and bones one season, and by the next season, the kid had bulked up to twice his previous size and had also grown two full inches. If it could happen to that kid, it wouldn’t be surprising if Josef grew overnight in much the same way.
Today, it wasn’t just Josef who still had a lot of energy near the end of the camp day. In his mind, that wasn’t allowed. Everyone should be thoroughly exhausted after training, so he did the only thing he could think of.
“Alright, time for sprints!” he shouted, blowing his whistle.
A collective groan came from the majority of participants, and Cullen could even see a couple make an unhappy face at the statement. But the energy that still radiated off of them told him they could handle it.
“Just for that reaction, we’re going to make them suicides!”
“Coach!” one of the older boys exclaimed.
“I said it, not taking it back. Let’s go!” he said with another blow of his whistle.
As he watched the group run back and forth, tapping the ground as they went, Josef’s speed caught his eye again. He made a mental note to check to see if the kid was registered to return next week. He hoped he was—there were a lot of more advanced things he would like to try out with him, to not only push him a bit but test out exactly what his true skill level was. If this kid was as good as Cullen thought he was, he belonged on an academy team somewhere, not just in a rec league. He had no idea what kind of team structure the island offered, although he did know that there was a USVI National Team, so there must be some kind of premier training available.
The kids were allowed to end their sprint session when parents started to show up, and it was clear by the looks on the faces of many of the kids that those parents showed up not a moment too soon. Just as before, as all the other kids filed off the field, Josef remained behind, working on a drill they had done earlier that morning. Josef ran up and down the length of the field, kicking the ball back and forth between his feet, speeding up and slowing down at the intervals he’d been instructed to earlier. Cullen wasn’t sure which thing he found most impressive—his speed or his ball control.
They were the only two left now, so Cullen jogged over to him and tried to steal the ball. “Okay, Josef, here’s what I want you to do. Run toward me like you would in a game, and whatever you do, don’t let me steal it, got it?”
The kid nodded quickly and started his approach on the goal. Cullen watched as he moved gracefully down the field and handled the ball with ease. As Josef ran toward him, Cullen tried to decide how he wanted to handle this. Did he want to just try and fake him out, or did he actually want to try and slide tackle him? Deciding the latter would be less expected by Josef, Cullen went in for the slide tackle. Just as he hit the ground and was about to make contact with the ball, Josef gave the ball a little extra tap, sending the ball farther up field than Cullen had expected, and leaped over him like he was running the four-hundred-meter hurdles. Continuing his way down the pitch, he easily sliced the ball into the goal.
Damn, that was a slick move, Cullen thought.
As soon as the words went through his brain, he heard clapping from the other end of the pitch and heard a familiar voice shout out in celebration. Leona. He wondered how long she’d been standing there. Obviously long enough to see her little brother hurdle over him like he was a log in the woods.
“Well done, Jo-bro!” she hollered out, as the two guys headed back her way.
“In my defense,” Cullen said, “I am an attacking forward, not a center back.”
Josef just laughed and held up his hand for a high five. Gladly reciprocating, Cullen slapped his hand into Josef’s. He was surprised how much he’d genuinely come to enjoy spending time with this kid. It almost made him wish his wild accusation had been true.
“You ready to head home?” Leona asked, completely ignoring Cullen and his comment. She looked beautiful standing there in a sea-green sundress with a short flared skirt and skinny little straps that showed off just enough of her cleavage to catch his attention. It was a good thing she didn’t wear outfits like this around the resort, or it’d be like being a teenager all over again.
