Page 68 of Play the Game

My guess is there will be a shit-ton of drills run tomorrow during practice and maybe some tweaks of the lines.

When we land in Chicago and I turn my phone back on, I realize I forgot to call Scottie after the game. I’d said I’d call her afterward, because I knew the team was listening to myconversation, but she’s the first thing I think about when the plane’s wheels hit the runway.

I reread our texts, and strangely enough, they pull me away from the anger lingering over our loss. After Coach barks at us to be at practice tomorrow, I climb into my car and pull open the camera app.

It wasn’t until I was away and thinking about her that I thought to look at the camera.

Did it border on unethical?

Sure did.

Was it a stalker-ish thing to do?

Fuck yeah.

But she kind of asked for it when she came to one of my games, waited until I was alone, and cornered me in the bathroom.That’sstalker-ish.

The security company recommended I put cameras in every room of the house, in case of theft, but the real reason I agreed was because of the crazed women showing up on my doorstep. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to get in my bed naked.

When I look at the cameras, though, no one is in my house except the person that’s supposed to be there.

My fingers tighten the longer I stare at her sleeping on my bed. She’s wearing the same thing I saw her in earlier: tiny shorts and a thin jacket that’s barely covering her shoulder. She’s curled into a tiny ball on the opposite side of where I sleep, with her blonde hair exposing the slope of her neck.

There’s a pinch in my groin, and I exit out of the camera app with too much force. I throw my phone off to the side and shift my car into drive.

I was the one who insisted she sleep in the bed with me, but that was before I knew what kissing her felt like. Now, I’m not sure I’ll get any sleep with her beside me, whether she’s awake or not.

“Seriously?”

A hiss slides out of Shutter when I step onto the porch. He arches his back at me, and his green glowing eyes are more of a glare than anything.

I’m happy to see that Scottie actually followed my command for once and put him back outside, but did she somehow inform him that I’m the one responsible for his living arrangements on the porch instead of inside my house?

You’d think he’d like me, since I’m the one who rescued him, but that’s clearly not the case.

When I get inside and shut the door, flipping Shutter off in the process, I notice that the couch is still empty. The house is as pristine as it was when Scottie stayed up all night to clean, and the blanket and pillow she uses hasn’t moved an inch since I’ve been away. I’d hoped she’d be in her rightful spot in the living room by the time I got home so I didn’t have to deal with waking her up.

A noise from upstairs pulls my attention. After dropping my bag near the door, I kick off my shoes and head for my room. The closer I get, the more I recognize the familiar voices of some of the most well-spoken sports commentators on TV.

They’re recapping the game from earlier, but I can’t pay attention because of the sleeping woman on top of my bed. Unable to stop myself, I move closer to the edge of the mattress and trace the delicate curve of her bare shoulder with a lazy gaze.

Despite how tired I am, my dick still makes himself known.

Fuck. This is getting weird.

I turn around in frustration.

I feel like the biggest fucking pervert in the world for standing in the middle of my bedroom with a semi, just from looking at a woman in my bed.

Especiallyher.

My teeth grind so hard my jaw throbs.

I glance at the TV in disbelief. As if I needed the reminder, a photo from my social media is on the center of the screen behind Charles Cannon and Mike Hale.

Scottie must have taken it the day she made breakfast, unbeknownst to me.

The focus of the photo is her holding a coffee mug with her biscotti nearby, but in the background, slightly blurred, there I am, without a shirt on, eating the pancakes and bacon she made.

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