Chapter One
“I need help, and I’m not even sure why I called you, but really it’s your fault for continuing to be friends with me even though you’re a big football star now.”
With his best friend Julie’s voice filling his ear, Gavin grinned and sat on the bench in the locker room, flinching when he plopped down harder than he’d meant to. If he kept on doing that, he’d need the trainer to work out the muscles in his back as hard as he’d just worked his shoulder. Gavin rolled it, wanting to keep it loose, and switched the phone to his other ear. “I’m not sure whether to say I’m sorry for still liking you, or that I’m currently busy being a big star, so I’ll have my people call your people once they manage to actually find a spot in my hectic schedule.”
An offended ah! noise carried over the line. “That so won’t work for me. Mostly because I don’t have people. I have you and Kylo Ren, and he’s in a mood today.”
“Hmm. Can’t believe your cat wasn’t more helpful.” Pure sarcasm there, because he’d met her temperamental black kitty with the tuft of white fur on his chest. According to her, that was the light side of the Force still inside him, trying to fight off the dark side. Not only was Julie his oldest friend, she was also a bit bonkers in the funniest of ways, which was why he always felt happier after talking to her.
“Hey guys,” DeAndre Smitts, one of the enormous defensive tackles said as he strolled down the aisle of the San Antonio Mustangs’ locker room. He had the tiniest towel in history around his waist, the bleached terry cloth contrasting his dark-brown skin and drawing far too much attention to his massive thighs. Whistles erupted, and Smitts added a hip sashay. “Tell me the truth. Does this towel make my dick look too big?”
As he continued strutting his stuff, several of their teammates claimed it wouldn’t be big enough to cover theirs. Gavin usually joined in on the razzing, but the pain screeching through his shoulder had dulled his sense of humor. “So, what can I help you with?” he asked Julie.
“I can’t decide which swimsuit to bring home with me for Christmas.” Not something commonly asked in the locker room, although with the group of guys he played with, he’d heard plenty of odd questions—similar to the one Smitts just asked.
“Are you gonna give me details, or do I just take a wild stab in the dark and say the red one?”
“But I don’t have a red suit. Which one are you talking about? I don’t think I’ve ever had a red one.”
Sometimes jokes flew right over her head. Particularly when she was preoccupied with something else—in her case, packing with what he was sure was a long, bullet-pointed to-do list. “I’m saying I need more details, or to see them before I can weigh in.”
“I’m not sending pictures of my swimsuits,” Julie said. “I know you’re not asking, but I’m putting it out there anyway. I feel self-conscious enough just holding them up in the privacy of my own bedroom.”
No, he wasn’t asking for pictures, not from the girl who’d been his friend since forever. But he’d never asked for pictures of her cat, and he got plenty of those. Same went for the mostly disturbing pictures from her pathology job. Some things—like engorged kidneys—should never be seen outside of the body. Not that he wanted to see them in the body, either, something he absolutely had to specify when it came to her “look how cool” picture-bomb texts.
Gavin peeled off the sweatband that kept his dark curls off his forehead and leaned against the cool metal lockers, nodding at a couple of his teammates as they passed.
Jason Holt hung back, his desire to be in the center of everything the reason they occasionally referred to him as Gossip Girl. “Talking to your girl? The cute blue-eyed blonde with the dimples?”
Gavin twisted the speaker end of the phone away from his mouth. “You know she and I are just friends.”
Between the visit she’d made shortly after he’d relocated to San Antonio eight months ago, the squeezed-in phone calls, and the fact that so many of his childhood stories involved Julie, a lot of his teammates knew her. Thanks to her eternally sunny demeanor, they always wanted to say hi, and became even more enthusiastic about talking to her during video chats.
“Then why do you insist on cockblocking me?”
“Sorry, Jules, hold on a sec.” Gavin tapped the mute button. “Because you’d end up being an asshole and hurting her, then I’d have to kick your ass, and that’d be bad for team morale. I’m not letting you anywhere near her, so forget it.”
Jason’s type was anything female, but he had a weakness for blondes. His interest in Julie and if she and Gavin were really just friends had spiked when the guys were over and she’d video messaged with another “emergency situation.” She’d been about to go out with her tool boyfriend and required feedback on her outfit, hair, and makeup—come to think of it, at some point he should probably clarify fashion wasn’t his strong suit. Dating advice, either, for that matter.
But she’d insisted she needed a guy’s opinion. Then she asked him to be brutally honest about whether or not she could pull off the glittery dress she had on.
Before Gavin could tell her that she looked nice—or that he had company—Jason jammed his face into the camera and replied, “Hell, sweetheart, I’ll take you wherever you want, especially while you’re wearing that sexy number. Ditch the boyfriend and come out with me instead.”
In order to escape the peanut gallery, Gavin had closed himself off in his bedroom. The makeup, jewelry, and scoop-neck dress had transformed her from the girl who often donned a lab coat and goggles at work and then spent her nights curled up on her couch with her cat into a much fancier version of herself. A protective surge had seized him, partially because he’d disliked her boyfriend and didn’t have faith the guy could properly protect her if a situation required it. But he’d shoved that away, assured her she looked great, and told her to have a good time at the opera.
Not his scene—or hers, as far as he knew—but she’d been trying “something new.”
The next morning, she’d called crying. Even though she’d thought the date had gone well, she’d been unceremoniously dumped.
The edge of the phone dug into Gavin’s palm as he recalled how helpless he’d felt, and how much he’d wanted to go have a talk with the asshole. A lucky asshole at that, because if he hadn’t been a couple of states away… He clenched and released his fist. He still wanted to have a “discussion” with the guy, but that had happened four months ago, and Jules claimed she was over it.
“Gavin? Are you still there?”
He quickly unmuted the call and lifted his phone to his ear again. “Yeah, I’m here.”