Lauren looks between us. “You’re coming to dinner tonight, right? It’s team tradition after wins.”
Scarlett shifts toward me. “Are you going?” She gives me those wide brown eyes that make turning her down difficult.
But then I picture Jakowski’s smug expression tomorrow morning when he’s prepared with detailed analysis while I’m scrambling to catch up. Given what Jenkins told me about my job security, I can’t afford to look unprepared.
Plus, spending more time with Scarlett makes it harder to keep my feelings in check. Ever since she fell asleep on me on the bus, I can’t get her out of my head. Her scent is still on my shirt and I keep noticing it, which is not helping either.
I rub the back of my neck. “I can’t go tonight. I typically get room service while reviewing game footage so we’re ready for tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment that crosses her face twists my stomach into knots. She doesn’t know about the political dynamics I’m navigating, nor how hard it is to tell her no.
“I guess I could hang out with Lauren, even though I’ll be the world’s most obvious third wheel.”
“You won’t be intruding!” Lauren says.
“Are you sure?” Scarlett crinkles her nose. “Maybe I should just head back to the hotel.”
Imagining her sitting in bed, watching TV while she eats room service, feels like a problem I could fix. But that’s also the thing that keeps getting me into trouble.
“You will not sit in your hotel room alone,” Lauren says firmly.
Scarlett bites her lip. “Fine, I’ll go.”
Jaxon, Logan, and Miles walk by us, headed for the exit. All single, decent-looking athletes. “Is the entire team going?” I ask Lauren.
“Yeah,” Lauren says. “Everyone except you.”
The thought of Scarlett spending the evening with them while I watch game footage feels wrong on so many levels.
Scarlett looks at me one last time before heading after Lauren. “Don’t worry, Brendan. I’ll be fine tonight.”
Watching her leave, I last about two seconds.
So much for keeping my distance.
“Hey, Rossi.”
She wheels around. “Yeah?”
“Remember what you said earlier about hanging out more with the team?” I cross my arms, aware that I’m about to do the exact thing I told myself I wouldn’t. “I think you were right. I’ll come tonight.”
Apparently, I’m only focused on my job—until she walks away.
“Really? Coach Marco is going to show us his fun side?” She lifts an eyebrow. “This I have to see.”
NINE
Brendan
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks as we stop outside the door of Scotty’s Sports Bar. “Because once the team sees you here, they’ll never let you escape this social obligation again.”
I glance through the glass doors at the big screens and crowded tables. The hotel is only walking distance away, and I don’t plan on staying long. But what Rafael told me about community presence and being a coach people can root for seems more important now that I’m trying to rebuild my image. Showing up here tonight checks those boxes—a nice girl on my arm and teammates who see me as more than the owner’s nephew.
“I’ve agreed to comeonce. I’m their coach, not their drinking buddy.”
This is why I stopped going out with the guys after games. That coach-player relationship becomes infinitely trickier when your players are also your friends.