Page 11 of Relationship Goals

Ride. And just like that, with that little four-letter word, I’m thinking about what she’d feel like on top of me, what she would look like. I clamp down on the thought, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

“Rehab and medical offices,” I say shortly, pointing down the hall in the opposite direction.

I want this over with. I stride away, practically jogging.

“Field is through here,” I call out over my shoulder, but there’s no answer. I glance behind me, only to swear under my breath.

Abigail’s surrounded by my teammates, barely visible as they tower over her. Her laugh rings out above the low thrum of their voices, and an unpleasant, vicious feeling grips me.

“I lovedBlood Sirens,” Logan, the youngest player on the team, is telling her loudly. The kid has one volume, and it’s loud.

Blood Sirens. Right. That’s the mermaid show that was blowing up a year or so ago. She was everywhere.

“That episode where they kill you off, that was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen on TV,” Marino adds, giving her his patentedheartbreaker stare. “The show was shit without you, too. What you said in that interview? You were right about it. The writing was a mess.”

Her smile falters, and that strange protective urge surges in me again as her lower lip trembles.

“Hey, back off!” I shout, jogging back to the crowd that’s assembled around her. She’s so tiny that she’s almost lost from view among the athletes swarming.

“Can you bring Serena to one of our games?” Logan adds, a hopeful puppy dog look on his face. “You know, the actress who plays Serena the Blood Siren?”

Abigail’s face falls completely at that, spurring me into action.

Glaring, I shove Rodriguez and Marino out of the way. “Give her some fucking space, you assholes.”

“Jesu Christo, Wolfe,” Marino says in his thickly accented English, rubbing his hip like I’ve hurt him.

“Go fucking cry about it,” I snarl. “I’m surprised you’re not rolling around on the floor.”

Marino affects a wounded expression, and disgust ripples through me. Not at him, though, at myself.

I shouldn’t care. It’s true. Marino is the biggest drama queen on the team. Tap him on the shoulder and he’s down, trying to get the refs to call a foul. Every damned game.

Guy’s as much of an actor as the woman standing in front of us.

Doesn’t matter, though. I’mtheasshole. My entire reputation on and off the field is built on that.

It’s who I am.

And it makes other players think twice before they fuck with me.

“What the hell, Wolfe?” Rodriguez asks. “We just wanted to meet the beautiful Abigail Hunt.”

“I don’t mind,” Abigail says, and I realize she’s signing things for them.

I rip the white stretchy cloth out of her hands, fury firmly holding me in its grip.

“Do you make anyone else sign your fucking briefs?”

“Hey, if he wants to wear my name on his ass, that’s his business.” Abigail gently extricates the briefs from me, handing them back to Rodriguez with a grin. Her fingertips brush across my knuckles, and the surprise contact takes me aback enough that momentarily I lose track of what I was saying.

“I will tattoo it on there for you,” he says sincerely, a shit-eating smile on his face. He grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, and my vision goes red.

“Show some respect,” I say. I might not care about Abigail, no more than anyone else, at least, but this behavior is low. “What would your grandmother think of this, Rodriguez?”

Rodriguez manages to look slightly chagrined. “I didn’t think you cared about my grandmother, Wolfe,” he tells me. “I didn’t think youcared.”

I pause, then bark out a reply. “I don’t, but I sure as shit know she wouldn’t want you handing your fucking briefs to a woman to sign.”

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