Colton mulled it over, hating to concede it was entirely possible Max had said that after the win just to piss him off. It was definitely a signature Max Clark dick move. Still, that didn’t change the fact that she was the fiancée—or ex-fiancée—of his sworn enemy.

“She’s still potentially going to marry the person I hate most in the world.”

Cooper shook his head. “I think you know you’re being ridiculous. Nobody allows themselves to be publicly humiliated like that, and then moves their entire life to another state, where they don’t know anyone but the guy they’re being forced to work with, for their fiancé’s personal vendetta.”

“What, did you take psychology classes in college too?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. They went hand in hand with my anti-bullshit classes.”

Colton rested his head on the seat, closing his eyes for a moment as the plane’s wheels touched down.

Colton shut the door to the locker room, letting it click quietly behind him. After his father’s call, which had only been marginally better than the ones he’d received after losing, he’d spent an hour in the weight room doing some light resistance training, stretching, and rolling out. He didn’t usually do more than a quick stretch after a game, but he was feeling antsy after his conversation with Cooper.

The building was quiet, just the way Colton preferred it. He often stayed behind after everyone left, enjoying having the vastness of the facility all to himself. The elevator dinged, letting him out on the third floor where they had fridges stocked with healthy food and protein shakes. His stomach growled, the few slices of pizza he’d had after the game long digested.

Just as he started to grab a stack of food, the door opened, startling him. When he turned around, he expected to see a janitor. Instead, standing there in her matching, dark-green, game-day pantsuit was Lucia.

She squeaked when she saw him. “I—I thought I was the last one here.”

He was at a loss for words. Her hair, normally in a clip or tight bun, was down, falling well past her shoulders. When he finally regained the ability to speak, he said, “Nobody’s allowed in here but coaches and players.”

“No, I know. I just—I got hungry, and I haven’t had much time to get groceries, and everywhere’s closed, but…you’re right. I should go.” She turned to leave.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“One win does not a Super Bowl-winning team make, Colton. There’s a lot to do.” Her hand still rested on the door, her back to him.

He took a step forward, then another. “But it’s late. Way past midnight.”

Lucia turned around, eyes widening as she took in how close he’d moved to her. “Well, my job depends on making sure you keep winning. Not the team. You, specifically. And just because we won doesn’t mean you’re back to yourself. So, I came back to watch film.”

She worked harder than the coaches. Even they had gone home already, content to watch film the next morning.

He took another step forward until his shoes were practically touching hers. He waited to see if she’d move away, push herself against the door, but she didn’t. She just stared up into his eyes defiantly.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

He watched her throat as she swallowed, then her mouth as she bit her lip. Her eyes were as hazy as his head felt.

“H—huh?”

He tilted his head back toward the fridges. “I won’t tell anybody if you grab some food.”

“O—oh, right.” But she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“What’s the matter? No witty quip for me? My, my, Moretti. That’s very unlike you.”

“I—I—”

He loved making her stutter, and apparently, his proximity did the trick.

“Please don’t stay here this late after everyone leaves. It’s dangerous.”

“You’re…you’re not my boss. And…and you’re here, too. Who should I be afraid of? You?”

He inched closer, their noses almost touching. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he wondered if she wanted him to kiss her as badly as he wanted to. It was an unsettling thought, so instead, he whispered, “Go grab something from the fridge, and I’ll walk you out.”

Chapter seven