Page 130 of Gloves Off

“Yes. But she’s also smart, and hardworking.”

An odd-looking potted plant arrived at my office at the arena this morning.Lady’s slipper—sudden and unpredictable attraction.

I avoid looking at him, but I can feel my face heating. What kind of game is he playing now? “All right, ladies, no more stalling. Let’s do some passing drills.”

“What was that you called me a few months ago,” Alexei murmurs in my ear while the girls run passing drills up and down the field. “Ugly?”

His eyes shift to mine, the tiniest spark of amusement flaring in them. I laugh and then cover it with a cough. We can’t tease each other like this.

“And I stand by it,” I lie, keeping my eyes on the girls.

His eyes cut to mine, glittering. “Really.”

“Mhm. A face only a mother could love.”

He shrugs, turning his gaze to the field. “Because you look at me like you think I’m hot.”

My jaw drops. “I don’t.”

Of course I do, but I’m not going to admit that.

His mouth slants and even though he isn’t looking at me, smugness radiates off him in waves.

“Idon’t.”

“That must be the sound of someone else’s panties dropping when I wear my glasses.”

“Keep dreaming, Volkov. And stop flirting with me.” I blow my whistle and call the girls in, giving them a few general pointers before I split the teams up for a scrimmage. After a few minutes, my gaze snags on someone on the field, and I frown.

“What?” Alexei asks.

“Teddy’s holding back.”

“Teddy . . .” He studies the field. “Black ponytail?”

I nod. “I see this with athletes sometimes after an injury. They’re so afraid of reinjuring themselves or slowing their progress that they take it too easy. You don’t have this issue.” Just the opposite.

He watches, listening with a serious, thoughtful expression.

I turn my attention back to Teddy. She’s shy, conflict-averse, very sweet, and helpful. Helpful. Hmm.

Oh. A lightbulb goes off in my head, and I blow the whistle. “Time out,” I call to the field. “Take a break, grab some water.”

When the girls reach the sidelines, I gesture at Teddy.

“When you’re handling the ball,” I tell her quietly while everyonetalks and drinks water, “it’s no fun for the other team if you hand it over without a fight. If you make it too easy, they’ll get bored.” I tip my chin at Tasha, one of our most competitive players. “Look at Tash. She loves to win, but only if it’s earned. If you make it too easy for her, she doesn’t feel like she deserves it.”

Teddy gives me a flat look. “I see what you’re doing.”

“Good.” I smile at her. “So when Tash is coming at you, tell yourself,I’m going to make this really difficult on her because that’ll be more fun for her.Play harder, Teddy. It’ll do you good.”

Teddy takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

I blow my whistle, the girls hit the field, and the game resumes.

Someone passes to Teddy. She brings the ball toward the net, Tasha running to intercept. I hold my breath as Teddy tenses, pauses, but then flips the ball up and away with her feet like we practiced the other week.

I whoop, but cover my mouth with my hand as Teddy takes off toward the net, Tash on her heels.

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