Page 10 of Change Your Play

“Then I’ll be anything you want me to be.” His eyes searched my face. There was something in those eyes that made my stomach tighten. “I thought I was just dropping the flowers off, but if you don’t have plans, I know a few late-night dinner places to extend the apology. No drive-throughs either. We can find something nice for my vixen.”

“Your vixen?”

“Vixen. Yes.”

That wasn't the question I wanted answered, and the man knew it. “Who do you think this vixen belongs to?”

“Me. But I don’t offer a collar. No matter how pretty you’d look with one on.”

Heat pooled between my legs and hedefinitelyknew it. The satisfaction on his face was undeniable.

“Mr. Locke, I have an…early morning,” I said slowly.

“So do I, at practice, showing off for you.”

I couldn’t push down the butterflies. Miles was only inches away, and for one wild moment, I imagined how it would be to kiss him. I wanted to run my fingers over his beard and tug him down to me. And hislips. What the hell did he need lips that nice for?

I wanted to find out.

A voice bellowed down the hall. “If you want to be a pussy and go to bed, you arewelcometo. I don’t give a—”

“Shit!” I jerked back from the temptation. There I was, practically in an embrace with Miles Locke, while mybosswalked down the hallway.

Hellno.

4

Cleo

Plum Purple Bottle Of Lube

I had dreams and those head intern dreams depended onnotgetting caught up with a football player. I practically shoved Miles and his enormous pile of flowers off to one of the couches, hidden by a divider. As quick as I could, I stumbled back to the front desk, about as red as the dahlias.

“Cleo!” Coach Lawson boomed, surrounded by his crowd of assistants and analysts we traveled with.

I attempted a smile, breathless. “Coach!”

“What’re you doing up?”

What a great question.

The front desk employee shot me a knowing look, but I shook my head.

Please.With all the love and sisterhood and girl power in the world, I begged her with my eyes.Don’t mention the boy, hidden away in the lobby.

She hummed loudly and resumed typing at her desk.

“I—uh—I’m buying an iced coffee,” I blurted out. “For tomorrow—tomorrow’s practice.”

“We’re drinking at the pool. You’re welcome to join us!” Coach Lawson thumped his Romans hat against the counter and gestured back to the lines of coolers behind the front desk employee. “How much beer do you have? How much can we buy? Can we buy all of it?”

The employee threw me a knowing smile. “It’s before two in the morning. You’re fine.”

“There we go!”

The front desk employee started stacking cans on the counter and Coach Lawson’s lackeys loaded them into their arms. But even after he paid, Coach Lawson loitered long enough to offer me a crinkled smile. “You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Oh, I’m fine, coach.”

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