Page 21 of The Playmaker
"Careful," I warn, my voice teasing but low. "Keep reacting like that and I'll stop believing your indifferent act."
"We can't," she says, opening her phone. "I want my job and you don't need more scandals after that cheerleader, right?" She flashes a fake smile. "Now say something nice for the camera. I'm capturing BTS for the web series."
"The boy band?" I tease, adjusting my posture, fighting my attraction.
Her eyes lift from the screen. "Behind the scenes." She stands, panning the camera across the cabin where my teammates joke with each other. "Maybe you need a private lesson or two before we proceed, so you catch up to the lingo."
Damn her. My body responds to everything she just said—and didn't say. "Avery," I manage, my voice embarrassingly husky.
She smirks innocently. "What was that? You're too busy to fit me into your after-hours calendar?" She winks. "Probably for the best."
She steps toward the guys. "Oh, Jax, your first private lesson is to review my questions," she nods at the tablet, "alone."
With another irritatingly sweet smile, she saunters off, asking who wants to give their opinion of me as a player and as a man. I groan when every single teammate volunteers, already throwing shade.
Hawk slides into Avery's vacant seat, eyeing me playfully. "So, about you and that journalist..."
I hold up the tablet like a shield. "Literally nothing. And that's what you need to tell everyone if they get ideas."
"Well, if she prints even a quarter of what those idiots are saying about you..." He trails off with a skeptical whistle.
Avery glances over, a devilish glint in her eyes. In that moment, I sense she could easily throw me under the bus—but for whatever reason, she won't. I don't trust reporters, but maybe I could learn to trust this one.
I turn back to Hawk. "She's just having fun, trying to get under my skin. It doesn't worry me."
Hawk raises his eyebrows. "I can see that. And that worries me." He leans in. "You're the only guy I know who actively avoids the press. You pretend to be something you're not just so they leave you alone."
He jerks a thumb toward Avery, now laughing at something across the aisle.
"But with this one—the one with a history of exposés—you're letting your guard down?"
"I know what I'm doing," I counter evenly, though I'm not convinced myself.
He shakes his head, standing. "It's your funeral." His eyes turn serious. "And Riley's."
I stiffen at the mention of my sister. "Fair enough."
When Hawk walks away, I glance down at the tablet, seeing Avery's questions for the first time. Standard stuff—career highlights, training regimen, game preparation. Then I see it: "Family influences on your career."
My throat tightens. The crash that took my parents happened when I was twenty-two, already drafted to the Phantoms. Riley was just ten. The world knows my parents died, but no one knows I've been raising Riley since then. To the public, she doesn't exist—I've made sure of it. After whathappened to Coach Thorne's family when his success made them targets, I vowed Riley would have normalcy.
Every endorsement deal, every contract negotiation includes ironclad privacy clauses. My "bad boy" image keeps the paparazzi chasing fake stories instead of the real one: that the NFL's notorious playboy spends most nights helping with algebra homework and watching dance recitals.
How can I explain this internal battle? My body craves Avery, but my mind agrees with Hawk—getting close to her is dangerous.
Then again... the saying is to keep your enemiescloser. I decide then and there to keep Avery very, very close.
That's why, when her laughter fills the cabin again, I feel another jolt of desire—and jealousy. It's nothing more than strategy to protect Riley.
The unspoken lie tastes like ash in my mouth.
CHAPTER 9
AVERY
"Ihope the trip proves useful for you," Coach says as we wait for the SUVs to arrive at the private airport in LA.
I feel Jaxon's green eyes tracking my every move. There's something unsettling about his attention—not because it's predatory, but because part of me responds to it in ways I shouldn't allow. I've spent years building walls against men like him, yet he somehow finds the cracks.
