Page 6 of Poke the Bear

I never lost my fucking cool. Never. I was the Iceman on the field, listening to all of the shitty stuff other players said to rile you up and put you off your game with no reaction. Because nothing touched me. But right now, I understood exactly why blokes lost their shit.

“What did you say?”

Darryl’s eyes widened as my voice transformed, more bear than man and I wondered what he saw when he looked into my eyes, right as my hand went to his throat. I squeezed so fucking hard he could barely breathe, right before I tossed him away.

“Fuck off,” I snapped and then I moved.

To go into damage control. To make sure she hadn’t heard a word of that. To ask her if she wanted a drink, to be my date for the night, and to fall at my feet and worship her. I wanted her, only her and I moved with all the speed I would when trying to intercept the ball.

Right as Jack appeared by her side.

“Hey, Adam,” she said with a bright smile. “Wanna meet my date?”

Date? I stared at my mate, searching her face, something, anything, to let me know this wasn’t true. Everyone knew that Jack was gay, but I thought she was with Laila.

“Freya.” That was my mate’s name? The name of a Nordic goddess, it made perfect sense to me, even as her cheeks flushed red. “This is Adam, one of the players on our team.”

Chapter 3

Freya

My dad would’ve just about shit himself for the chance to shake Adam Farrelly’s hand, but I managed to keep myself under control as I reached out and took it. Jack’s grin spread wide, then got wider as she watched… What was this? The place was filled with gorgeous women in amazing sparkling dresses. Women that had great tits, great legs and great arses.

So why the hell was he over here, talking to us?

His mate had asked the same question, lurking behind as Adam and I were introduced. The other guy had scowled at me, then turned to try and talk to a few of the perfect girls standing by the door. But I was just standing there, holding Adam’s hand as I was thinking all these thoughts, feeling this strange warmth pulsing through me. My breath came in sharp little pants, sweat breaking all over my skin, no doubt staining my dress as Jack’s smile faltered. She looked at me, then Adam, then me again, her eyes widening.

“Uh, hi, Adam,” I squeaked out.

Oh dear god. I dropped his hand thankfully, and the poor guy rubbed his fingers together, as if to rid himself of the feel of me. But to add to my embarrassment, my other hand rose and I gave him an awkward little wave.

Fuck.

I dropped that as soon as I noticed and then smiled, a fake one full of teeth.

“You must need to talk to Jack. I’ll go get a drink.” I was ready to make a quick exit, but he stopped me.

“Let me.” He flushed, looked down, shoved his hands in his pockets and then dragged them out again, only to rake one through his hair. “I mean, we can get a drink, if you like?”

Then he held out his arm and I just stared at it. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? But Jack had the answers, giving me a little nudge.

“Go and get a drink,” she ordered. “I’ve gotta go and run interference. Darryl obviously thinks he’s gonna score tonight, but I have to make clear that can’t happen until he’s back at his hotel room.” She turned to Adam. “Look after my girl, OK?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer, swallowing hard and then shifting his arm, making clear I was to take it. OK, so I had a star footballer escort. Not the way I thought I was going to get through this night. But he gave me this look, complete with big blue puppy dog eyes, so I wrapped my arm with his and let him take me over to the bar.

“What would you like?” he asked, settling against the edge.

To go home, I thought furiously. To be in bed with my flannel PJs on and some lo-fi music playing as I draw until I’m too tired to keep my hand moving, but instead I smiled.

“Um… a vodka, lime and soda, if they have it.”

“They will tonight,” he said, lifting a finger to the bar staff and one came rushing over. I was kinda surprised to see him order an orange juice.

“Not drinking?” I asked, taking the glass with a grateful smile, then stirring the straw through it. “You’re not in training…” I looked around, remembering from Dad’s long conversations that the awards happened at the end of the season. “Shit, of course, you’re not.”

“Nah, just don’t want to make a dick of myself.” As if to illustrate that, there were some loud whoops from the other side of the ballroom, guys sculling beer bottles as fast as they could. Those full lips parted as he drank down a mouthful of his juice before he set it down, his tongue flicking across the top lip. “So, how long have you and Jack been together?”

“Together?” I swung around, searching for Jack. “Like together, together?” I flicked a finger between me and my bestie as she went and scolded some of her players. “Oh, no, it’s not like that. Jack and I have been best friends since high school.”

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