Page 4 of Shes my 1 Try

I’ve never had issues talking to women. I mean, I was chosen for this project for a reason. A million questions buzz in my head—what’s your name? How old are you? What’s your favourite colour? Will you have my babies?! Yeah, that last one is a doozy and yet no less important than all the others.

For fuck’s sake, open your mouth and speak!

“Tilt your head up, please,” she instructs, picking up a sponge thing that looks like a water drop.

“But then I won’t be able to see the cutest girl in the world,” I finally manage to speak, offering her my most suggestive smile.

“Ugh, really? Firstly; just cute? I’m sure you’ve got more words in your vocabulary than that, Romeo.” I can’t tell if she’s genuinely annoyed or not, considering the way she eyes me up and down. Eyes that look like the ocean in my new hometown, I might add. “Secondly; a girl? Seriously?! I haven’t been a girl for years. Now tilt your head up.”

Her hand lands on my chin, forcing me to look up, and heat starts from the contact point and rushes through me like a damn out-of-control bushfire. I keep trying to shift the angle of my face so I can watch her, but she shuts me down and works on dabbing some crap onto my skin.

“Please hold still,” she sighs, releasing my chin. “My job mightn’t seem important to you, but you’ll thank me later. Trust me.”

“I would never presume to make you feel like I think less of your profession.” I shift in the seat as she takes a weary step away.

“Oh, so now you know intellectual words.” She rolls her eyes, selecting a fluffy brush from a holster on her waist.

“I know plenty of intellectual words. If you give me a chance, I can show you,” I say smoothly, as she leans in closer. Close enough that one move and our lips will touch and I suddenly want that very much. The scent of her perfume, some exotic flower, wrapping around me.

“Listen, I know you’re probably used to women falling at your feet, but I’m here to do a job. Nothing else.” The brush she took from her belt skims across my face, the weariness in her eyes sending concern through me.

“Hey,” I sit up, taking the hand holding the brush gently in mine, the electricity from one touch insane. “I’m not some douche who hits on every woman he meets. I genuinely want to get to know you better…”

“Is that what you said to Sam’s wife, asshole?” I don’t have to turn to know who’s talking, but I let go of her hand and push up from the seat.

“I didn’t say anything to her, Tyler, but you know that, don’t you?” Some of the other people in the room get up and leave, the makeup artists shrinking back against the bench, except for the beauty beside me.

“If you’re going to cause trouble, just leave.” She waves the hand with the brush in it at him.

“You should tell that to your boyfriend here. The one that sleeps with his teammate’s wife.” A loud groan beside me and a huff brings a smirk to my lips.

“Please, as if he’d jeopardise his career like that. Sit your ass down and wait your damn turn.” This fiery woman knows who I am, and she’s defending me. Now I have to know everything about her.

“I see you drank the Asher Scott Kool-Aid, sweetheart. Bet you got all wet and swoony as soon as he walked through the d…”

“Fuck you, Tyler. Leave her alone.” I’d sorely like to punch him in the face. I settle for shoving him in the chest, forcing him back a step.

“You know what? I’ve got a better idea.” Before I have a chance to react, I’m on my ass, a drum solo thrumming a painful beat through my head. “How about you get the fucking hint, Scott. Not every woman wants to get in your pants. You can thank me later, sweetheart.”

“Push off, you loser,” she responds, her perfume wafting through my senses as she kneels down beside me, and Tyler strides from the room, laughing triumphantly. “I’m gonna have to redo all your makeup now.”

Examining my face, each new touch one I want to hoard away, pity sits in her ocean-coloured eyes. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“While I appreciate your act of chivalry, Mr Scott,” she gets to her feet, offering me her hand. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“So, you know who I am.” I take her hand, her fingers delicate and tipped with pretty pink nails, and I want to kiss every finger. It won’t happen now. Any woman who knows who I am also knows what I’ve been accused of. My previous club may as well have painted a big guilty sign on my head when they put my contract up for the highest bidder.

“Yes, I know who you are,” she says quietly, guiding me back to the seat, gently pressing me back into it. “I’d have to live in a bubble not to know who you are.”

Staring straight ahead, my reflection in the mirror already shows the swelling on my cheek from Tyler’s punch. Still to this day, I can’t put my finger on when my life went to shit. Or why my teammates, the ones I’d shared so much with, all sided against me. I never claimed to be the good guy. But I’d never sleep with another man’s wife. Never.

“Hey, that guy is a jerk. Watching him play on T.V., he’s one of those players that makes me want to put my fist through the screen. Just ignore him.” She’s quiet, soothing, like I’m some wild animal that needs placating or a toddler about to lose my shit.

I shift my attention from the mirror to her as she tries to cover-up Tyler’s handy work. For a moment our eyes lock and a part of me wants to tell her that I love her—insane, right? I’ve known her for all of fifteen minutes and I’m already thinking about a future with her in it.

“Thanks…for what you said,” I finally manage, forcing myself to look away. “You didn’t have to.”

“Neither did you,” she hums. “Now hold still while I fix this up.”

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