I try to put that day out of my mind. God love my mom, but everything with her has to be a big event. It might have been my graduation, but she was the center of attention. Not that I cared. I wasn’t the one who loved to be in the spotlight. I hadn’t gotten to see my dad in mouths and I wanted to spend the day with him, or at least hide out with him during the party. But my mother kept me at her side, showing me off like some sort of award that belonged to her.
One would have never known she was against me getting my doctorate degree in physical therapy. She complained about it daily. I had to listen to it because I lived at home while going to school. Between going to an all-girls school, staying at home when I went to college, and taking on as many classes as I could to graduate as fast as possible, my social life was null.
My main aim was to graduate because I knew what was waiting for me when I did. It’s probably why my mother hates my career choice. All I had to do was graduate and make straight A’s and my dad promised me a job on his team. The dream fueled me. I not only wanted the job, but I also wanted to be near my dad.
Our relationship is different than the one I have with my mom. My dad has always been more affectionate and loving. He always wanted to be involved in my life. A day doesn't go by that I don’t hear his voice. When he didn’t have to work he’d always be in New York to see me or we’d take a trip together. He even has a second home in the same building as my mom.
Our time together always felt special and I’m more than excited to really be living in the same city as him. My mother isn’t happy about it, but I’m sure after a while she’ll get used to it. It’s not like we hang out that much unless she’s dressing me up and pulling me to an event. Other than that we’re like two polite strangers passing each other in the hallways of the house. I gave up a long time ago trying to have a deep relationship with her. I love her, but I don’t think that will ever be us.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel the plane start to move.
“Seatbelt,” I hear Wes growl.
Maybe it’s not a growl and that’s just how he speaks. I try to remember interviews he’s done but can’t recall. Normally Dean does all the talking. I always cheered for my dad’s team but got even more into it when I got older and he would take me to games. I devoured everything I could about the players and teams since my dad made me the promise about coming to work for him.
I fumble for my seatbelt, totally nervous in the knowledge they’re both watching me. I really need to get it together. I’m going to be working with them and traveling with them to games. I can’t be the clumsy owner’s daughter in front of them.
Two warm, strong hands cover mine, making my breath hitch for a moment. “Let me, sugar.”
I glance up, meeting Dean’s crystal-blue eyes and I get lost for a moment. His thumbs rub my hands, then move to the seatbelt. He clicks it into place easily and I feel warm all over.
“Thank you,” I say when I finally get words to escape my lips.
“You do speak.” He flashes me a dimple while giving me a teasing smile. “Close your mouth or I’ll do something with it.”
My mouth clamps shut and I’m sure my face is bright red. He gives a little chuckle before winking at me and going back over to sit next to Wes.
“She’s even softer than she looks,” he tells him, and Wes lets out a grunt. I look down at my hands, where his touch still lingers. His words pound in my head.
What would he do with my mouth? My fingers go to my lips and a flood of visions come to mind.
“Fucking shit,” someone mumbles.
I don’t look over. I know it’s Dean who said it, and he seems mad. These two are so confusing. Opening my book back up, I get lost in the pages, trying to push everything else out so my mind can clear and this blush can fade away. I need to get it together.
My eyes fly open when I feel something stroke my cheek. I must have fallen asleep. My eyes lock on Wes, who is rubbing his thumb softly along my cheek. His touch is so different than I thought it would be.
“We’re here, little one.” His face is soft now, but I can’t read his dark eyes. There’s something there, but I don’t know what it is. They almost look sad.
“Thanks.” I sit up. Wes reaches down and unlocks my seatbelt. It’s sweet, but maybe these two think I’m so incompetent I can’t even buckle and unbuckle myself.
“Are you?” Wes asks me in his deep voice.
I don’t understand the question. “Am I what?”
“Jailbait.”
I glance down and shake my head. I know I look young, and my small size doesn’t help with that. Nor does how I’m dressed and done up today. Not wanting to look back up at him, I grab my bag and shove my book inside.
“But you’re pretty close to it, aren’t you?” I glance out the window, willing the plane to stop taxiing the runway so I can exit. “Little one?”
“My name is Amelia.”
Dean is standing next to him now. The plane stops moving and a moment later I hear the door of the plane open. I stand, but Wes and Dean don’t move as they block my path.
“Who are you, Amelia?” Dean asks. I lick my lips, looking up at him. Jesus, they’re even bigger in person. Seeing them on the field through a television does them no justice. “I…ah,” I stammer, but I’m cut off when I hear my dad’s voice.
“Melly!” My dad always calls me by the nickname he gave me as a baby. Both Wes and Dean turn to look at my dad, who just entered the plane, clearly unable to wait for me to exit. I love that he’s just as excited to see me as I am to see him.
“She belongs to you?” Wes’s words sound deadly.
I push past them and launch myself at my dad. I didn’t get to see him all summer. I was busy getting all my certifications in line. We’ve never gone this long without seeing each other. My dad hugs me tight and kisses me on the cheek. Before letting me go, he turns me and I see the whole team standing, trying to exit the plane.
“Yes, she belongs to me.” Both Dean and Wes take a step towards us. The whole team is looking at me. They stop moving when my dad continues. “This is my daughter, Dr. Amelia Green.” Dean’s and Wes’s expressions change, and I don’t understand it. “She’s the team’s new physical therapist.”
Chapter Two
Amelia
“Dad, this place is too much.” I glance around the fully decorated condo, my excitement simmering with the idea of this space being mine to do with as I please.
The place is amazing. More than I could have hoped for, and I’ve only made it to the living room. There is a huge fireplace and a big soft gray sectional sofa that looks fluffy and comfortable. Big pillows line most of it and it looks so cozy. There is light everywhere, shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Vegas.
I turn to look at my dad. His hair is a little grayer than the last time I saw him. He’s in a suit like always, but today he’s a little less tense than normal. He looks relaxed. He’s handsome, and I always wondered why he never remarried. Maybe my mother ruined the idea for him. He never brought any women around either.
“This place is perfect.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “Most of the team lives here during the season. The security is top notch.” He nods towards a phone. “You can order food whenever you want and they have a gym and a spa downstairs. Everything you need with only a call.”
“It’s safe,” he pushes. “You could come stay with me if you’d prefer. I’d love to have you at home, but I thought you might want your own place.”
“It’s perfect.” I love my dad and I’m so happy to be here, but I do want my own space. It’s time to start to spread my wings a little.
“I know you like you cook.” He nods to the left and I rush over to the kitchen. I don’t only love to cook, but I love to eat.
“Dad!” I shout, and my excitement bubbles over. I hardly got to use the kitchen at home. My mother hated messes, even though I cleaned up after myself. She also hated having any calorie-heavy food in the house. I only ever got to cook when she went away for weekends or I knew she’d be gone for the night. Sometimes I could sneak down to my dad’s place to cook. He always let me do what I wanted in the kitchen.
I run my hand along the white granite countertop and look at all the stainless steel appliances.
“You haven't seen anything yet,” he says as he walks over to a pantry.
He pulls the doors open and reveals a small room lined with shelves. I step in and see the place is packed with food. It’s so perfectly done, with labels and containers, I almost don’t want to touch anything.
“Did a designer organize this food?” I joke, but the look my dad’s face makes me think I hit the nail on the head. “I’ll never be able to eat all this.”
“You’ll just have to invite your old man over for a lot of dinners.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me in close, and kisses the top of my head.
“I like that idea,” I agree. “You hungry now?”
“I wish I could stay for dinner, but I have a meeting.” I can hear the apology in his tone.