Page 13 of Playing for Keeps
“You planning to ignore me the entire night?” I asked with a playful tone, a smile pulled to my lips until I noticed her expression, one of anger. “What?”
“What?” She repeated my question, crossing her arms in front of her.
“That’s what I asked.”
She scoffed at my reply; her stare turned into a sharp glare. “You don’t know?”
Sighing, I looked down briefly. “Look, I didn’t know he was your father, and it took me…”
“No.” She interrupted, bringing my attention back to her. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” She added.
“I’m sorry then, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Confused by her attitude toward me.
“I’m not a one-night girl, and you made me think there was something more than that.” She answered.
“I had a work trip, which you knew about. I never…”
“Yeah, and there is that. Why didn’t you tell me you were a player? You know how complicated that makes things for me?”
I chuckled at her comment. “Frankly, I’m a little shocked you didn’t know who I was, being who your father is,” I replied. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Coach Marshall’s daughter? One might think you wanted no last names for that.” I added.
“I don’t typically feel the need to throw my father’s name around to men I meet.” She answered. “Anyway, it’s something I honestly try not to mention due to past experiences.”
“You know I didn’t call or text before or after the game because I was a little thrown for a loop,” I admitted with a calm voice and slight move toward her. She turned, her back pressing against the frame of the door as I positioned myself in front of her. There was a look of nervousness in her eyes, her chest lifting and falling with a quick rhythm.
“It doesn’t matter.” Three words. That’s what it took for me to take a step away from her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I repeated. “That's really how you feel?” I asked.
“You want to know how I feel?”
We remained silent for a moment when I took a slow movement toward her, closing the small gap that separated us. My arm lifted, my hand pressed beside her with a slight lean toward her. She was angry, I could feel it, see it. The way she looked at me, her tone. Was it because I hid, I was a player? Nah, that couldn’t be the only reason, I thought. “Tell me,” I replied,my head slightly tilted as our gazes remained locked with one another.
I wanted to kiss her. Pull her into me and take her right there. What had this woman done to me? The more she pulled away, the more she drew me in. I waited for her to speak, my eyes falling to her full lips as they parted; that wetness that lingered on them drove me crazy. Our bodies grew closer as I slowly leaned forward, when the sound of someone clearing their throat broke our connection.
Looking up, I saw my brother at the end of the hallway, pointing to his watch. I nodded my head as Hannah turned and looked at him, Easton, with his legendary smirk, to her before he left. Had it been for the best? That we only shared one night. That she was angry at me, felt deceived by me for what I imagined was keeping my job a secret from her. Perhaps she thought I sought her out, used her to say I scored with the coach’s daughter. Did any of it matter at that point? Did our connection matter?
I wanted to ask her more and tell her more, but I stopped myself. Without a word, I took another deep stare into her eyes before I moved past her back into the main room. Patting Easton on the shoulder, as he leaned against the bar talking to Hannah’s friend, I continued my stride to Maximus and Austin waiting at the entrance. This was how it needed to be, I told myself. It was the safest option for her, for me, for the team. Giving a handshake to a fan as I passed, I turned with a final glance back to Hannah before leaving.
CHAPTER 14
HANNAH
Closing time couldn’t come fast enough. After Cameron and his teammates left, the bar started to slow down, which gave me more time to torture myself in his regard. I couldn’t get him out of my head, even the scent of his cologne remained strong as though he still stood in front of me. As the bar slowed and started to empty, I found myself scanning through Google for his pictures. One after the other, a few with that same woman popping up, only causing me to grow frustrated. Why did she get to have him freely? Why did she get to call him hers? Why did she get to go home and see him? Why did my father have to be his damn coach?
Hitting the videos button, I smiled as an interview came up, Cameron talking about how he once broke his finger during a play, another of him during practice, followed by one of him playing with cats at an animal rescue. Cameron was the type of man I’d always dreamed I’d meet, minus what I considered a significant fault, even if I could get past him being a football player, which seemed impossible. We hadn’t even started a relationship, and so much was stacked against us. How would I see him at games? Already, everything had changed.
“Closing time.” Chad, one of our bartenders, announced, breaking my train of thought.
“There she is,” Marty said with a playful tone.
“Sorry, I was just…”
“I know what you were doing.” Marty quickly said. “Torturing yourself.”
“I was not.” I lied, pushing my phone into my back pocket.
“No? What do you call it then?” Marty always had a way about her, saying what she wanted when she wanted. I loved her for that, most of the time.
