Page 7 of I Blame the Club

“André and Preston will be supporting our defensive line this year and Millard will be supporting the forwards.” The two defensive men grin at each other while the new forward shuffles his feet nervously.

“Welcome to the Tigers, boys.”

One of our teammates steps forward and I do a double take, “Holy shit, Hunter, did you cut your hair?”

Hunter grins, running his hand along his buzz cut, “The new Mrs. didn’t like my flow, so I had to change it up.”

Thank God someone told him to cut off that mop. It had started giving me nightmares by the end of last semester.

“Looking good, man.” Wes nods before turning back to the rest of the team, “Our assistant coach hasn’t arrived yet, but why don’t we start warm up. Five laps around the field… and go!”

We all take off, the rookies making a point to sprint ahead of everyone else.

“Should we tell them we’re doing sprints in today’s practice?”

Wes laughs, his easy gait keeping pace with mine, “Nah. Let them burn off some nervous energy. Going too hard during warm-up can be their first lesson.”

I grin, “Someone’s already feeling his captain status.”

“You know it.”

We finish our last lap just as someone walks onto the lacrosse field. The rookies already look winded by the time they grab their water bottles and the rest of the team forms a huddle around the newcomer.

“Mo must have arrived.” Wes shoots me a look, “Best behaviour, Nico.”

“I’m always on my best behaviour.”

He gives me a pointed look, “It’s too early to seduce him, okay? Save that for later.”

Please. Without my trusty beer goggles, I am sure this man is nowhere above…

Holy shit.

Perfectly styled brown hair, piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a body that Greek Gods would envy hits me as I eye-fuck the shit out of our new assistant coach. His athletic t-shirt is thin enough to show muscles that go on for days, and a quick glance at his legs tells me this man believes in equal proportions.

I wonder ifallof him is equal proportion.

My mouth starts to water as those pale blue eyes lock on mine. Any thought of fooling around immediately vanishes when I see the distaste shining back at me.

Damn it, Wes was right. I do like douchebags.

Tamping down my lust, I give him a big grin and swagger over to where he’s standing. Wes is already explaining today’s practice when I slide up next to the man I would happily call Zeus in or out of the bedroom.

“Was your ride in okay?” I’m trying to be civil while I drool over his side profile, but the gorgeous man doesn’t spare me a glance.

“It was fine. You guys started practice early.”

“We started five minutes early. Wes and I were here fifteen before that.”

Mo turns towards me, his expression carefully neutral, “I would have been here sooner, but you failed to inform me that practices are half an hour earlier this year.”

My grin grows wider, “Did I? Must have slipped my mind.”

“I don’t appreciate being undermined, Montez. Especially by a captain who thinks it’s appropriate to hit on his teammates.”

I blink, momentarily speechless by the fact he not only remembered my promiscuous advances but also my name.

I must have been drunker than I remember.

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