Page 53 of Irresistibly Risky

“I already love your offspring. That’s enough Asher Reyes for me.”

My phone rings from the side of the pool, interrupting my witty retort. With a groan and a hell of a lot of reluctance, I release my feisty doctor and wade back through the water, only to groan again when I see it’s my PR manager.

“Crap. I have to take this.”

Wynter waves me on, and I pick up the phone, slide my finger across the screen, and head for the steps at the far end of the pool since I can’t hoist myself out of it.

“Jean,” I answer as I trudge up the steps and go for a towel. “What’s up?” I tuck the phone against my good shoulder and then wrap the towel around my waist.

“The news on your shoulder broke about ten minutes ago. It hit Boston Sports Network first but quickly spread like wildfire over the internet.”

“Shit,” I hiss, and Wynter’s head snaps in my direction with a concerned frown. I shake my head and turn partially away. “There goes my perfectly planned press conference for Monday.”

“Yes. We need to get damage control on this now.”

“Great. Okay. Give me five minutes, and I’ll call you back. I’m just getting out of the pool.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call Freddy and your agent now.”

Jean hates my agent, Hunter, and never refers to him by his first name. Ever. My theory is they had a thing once that didn’t end too well.

We disconnect the call, and I turn back to Wynter, who is pulling Mason out of his floaty and walking him toward the stairs. “Everything okay?”

“The news on my shoulder broke before we could release it ourselves.”

Her head tilts as she tucks Mason against her, but hell, even with this news, Wynter walking toward me wet and in that bikini is all kinds of distracting.

“Do you know who broke it?”

“I’m not sure. That was Jean, my PR person. I told her I’d call her back.”

“Then you should go do that.”

“I can help you with him first.” I hand her a towel that she wraps around both her and Mason.

“We’re fine, Asher. Go. You’ve got business to deal with. He’s ready for a nap now anyway.”

“Thanks.” I drop a kiss on each of his cheeks. “See you in a bit, big guy. Sweet dreams. Dada loves you.” I make the sign for father as I say dada—since dada is easier to say than daddy—and then drop a kiss on Wynter’s cheek, and quickly step back with my hand in the air when she looks like she’s ready to cut off my balls. “That was for luck. For me. I might need it.”

I toss her a wink and then open the door for them, following closely behind as they head down the stairs, Wynter and Mason going in one direction, me in the other. I speed across the apartment into my master, where I strip out of my wet trunks and step into a pair of sweatpants, and forgo the shirt because it’s too hard to do one-handed right now.

Then I head into my office and tap on my keyboard, illuminating both monitors I have on the desk. I go to the Boston Sports Network page, and there it is in big bold font. “Asher Reyes has shoulder surgery. Questions on the season and his future with the Rebels uncertain.”

Dickheads.

I dial up Jean, setting my phone on the desk and pressing the speakerphone button so I can talk hands-free. As it rings, I do a quick Google search, and hundreds of articles already pop up. I rub my hand across my forehead and back through my hair. My contract is up in two years. I never considered the team wouldn’t resign me, but then they brought in Leo and Joe Cardone, and now with my injury, I have no idea what’s headed my way.

There’s a chance I could be playing for another team by this time next year.

“Hey,” she answers on the third ring. “I’m going to patch you in with Freddy and your agent.”

“K. Sounds good.” My voice sounds empty, even to my own ears.

A second later, the three of them are on the phone, all talking at once and over the others.

“One at a time,” I bark, clicking on link after link, all saying a variation of the same thing. “I hate it when you all do this shit. Just tell me what the deal is, who leaked it, and what I have to do now.”

“We don’t know who leaked it,” Jean starts. “The story is very vague other than to say you had potentially season-ending surgery earlier this week. The story claimed a reliable source close to you leaked it. That could mean a player, someone on the coaching staff, a hospital employee, your doctor—”

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