Page 11 of Virgin Pass

Chapter Five

Lori

I can’t stop grinninglike the moony eyed pre-teen I was when I first met Austin, but I don’t care. After watching today’s practice for a few minutes, I used my insider cred to slip into the coaches’ offices while everyone was busy on the field. Once there, I snooped. Extensively. And successfully.

Austin is totally making a name for himself as a Warrior.

I hug the files to my chest as I stroll down the concrete corridor, heading back to the field. The notes on Austin were plentiful, especially from the offensive coordinator, who left a trail of positive comments on post-its and stats printouts. The rookie is still getting all the reps, and he should. He’s fantastic. But Austin is doing his job as it’s laid out for him right now. He’s showing up, working hard, mentoring the newer players, and doing everything he can to show everyone he has what it takes to succeed here.

He doesn’t need to convince me he’s more than up for the job.

I slow down and pull my arms even tighter around me, glad for the cool stillness of the corridor as I fight back a full body blush. Every time I think of Austin’s hands on me, I dissolve into a puddle of want for the man. When he finally stripped down and I saw him fully naked, I thought my eyes would catch on fire. Then he laughed, said something I couldn’t at all make out because I was still mesmerized by his body, and reached for me. We found ourselves in his insanely over the top bathroom and a shower stall the size of my apartment, his enormous, athletic body slick and glorious beneath a thundering spray of hot water.

I’ve apparently been missing out on a lot about properly taking a shower.

“Ohhhhh.” I lean against the wall, fanning myself with my folders as I imagine Austin’s large, capable hands on my hips, his lips ranging over my mouth, my neck, my—

“Lori? What’s wrong with you?”

The gruff voice shatters my good mood and I lurch upright, scrambling to keep my folders from exploding into a torrent of falling papers. “Dad!” I say quickly.

“You sick?” He stops in front of me, and I realize in my distraction I completely missed the head coach of the Warriors striding up the corridor, never mind that he’s a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound ex running back.

“I’m fine.” I smile brightly. “The team’s looking good.”

“You should know,” he says darkly. “You’ve been here every damned day. If I’d wanted you to be a groupie, I wouldn’t have sent you to college. You should be teaching first graders, not hanging around here.”

Now my face heats with anger, not embarrassment. “I’m an agent, Dad. An agent of one of the keys to your new offensive scheme. You better believe I’m going to be here.”

“Striker’s no longer the key to anything,” Dad shoots back, then checks himself, because if nothing else, he’s a fair man—at least when it comes to his players. “He’s playing well enough,” he concedes, glowering at me.

“He’s going to surprise you,” I say with a confidence I don’t have to fake.

My dad grunts, but he doesn’t deny it. He knows football, and more importantly, he knows the men who give their all to play the sport. He shocked everyone by getting into coaching after a short stint playing at the pro level, but he’s a much better coach than a player, and his years in pads gave him instant credibility with the guys. He still hasn’t made the playoffs as the Warrior’s coach, but the team has put up winning seasons every year since he came on board, and this year…this year might make the difference.

As usual, he’s watching me too closely. “I don’t like you getting so close to Striker. He’s a quarterback, Lori. You should know by now they are all assholes, every last one of them.” He glances over his shoulder. At first I think he’s checking out Austin, but nope. He’s eyeing the rookie.

“I’m Austin Striker’s agent, not his girlfriend,” I correct him, squaring my shoulders. What my dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. “I don’t care if he’s an asshole, I care that he’s got a laser throw and good rapport with the guys and that he’s showing real leadership out there, whenever you give him a chance. Which you need to do more often.”

Dad bristles. “I sure as hell don’t need you to tell me what to do,” he warns, and I instinctively flinch. My dad has never raised a hand to me, never so much as spanked me—he was always too afraid of hurting me, as big as he is. But that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. He’s kept me under his thumb for most of my life merely by growling at me, and he does it again now.

“Call your mother,” he snaps, and moves off down the hallway.

I gape at him, irritation burning in my throat. My dad doesn’t believe I’ll ever have an identity beyond the one he’s settled on for me: the coach’s daughter who plays at the fringes of the game, good for keeping out of the way.

Well, he’s wrong. I may hate being an agent, but I love being there for Austin. That’s all I want in the world.

That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I stalk off in the other direction. My churning thoughts take me all the way to the training facility of the sector, dozens of cubbyhole examination rooms snugged up against a state-of-the-art gym, rehab center and medical facility.

One of the trainers looks up as I pass. “Hey, Lori—you okay?”

I whirl on him. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I snap, and then I see who he’s taping. Austin, fresh off the field, his shoulder now swaddled in white strips. Instantly my mood switches to one of panic. “Oh, no! What happened to you?”

Austin glances down at his shoulder as if surprised to see all the tape. “It’s nothing. Preventative. I’m not injured.”

“Good,” I blow out a breath. “Good.”

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