Win Big:A Bad Boy Sports Romance(25)

       
           



       

"We're seniors. We're all working hard, but this is the home stretch. It's our last semester and we'll finally be done."

"Yeah," I muttered, thinking about my assignment to Evan. He would be the death of me before the semester was over, I was sure of it.

"The only saving grace of working this hard is knowing I'll be traveling for a year before I settle into a teaching job."

"I so envy you."

I really did. Kristy had plans to see France, parts of Northern Algeria and Western Europe starting in May. She had planned this since junior year, and took summer jobs to save enough, just so she could take a pause and immerse herself in French and old world culture.

"If you envy me that much, come along," she said, tempting me for the umpteenth time.

"I wish … hey, the way this Evan assignment got thrown at me, I may end up jobless … maybe a year in Europe will do me good."

Kristy did a double take. She hastily came to my side with the outfit she picked out in one hand, and lifted the back of her other hand to feel my forehead for a fever. "Are you sure you're okay? Because the Samantha I know had roughly … hmmm let me think … yes, she had zero interest in anything but getting a major league gig after graduating."

"You're right …  I'm not so sure of what my future will bring anymore, to be honest. This assignment has derailed me a bit."

"You know what you need? A break from your placement, and time away from having your head stuck in schoolwork. Come out with me tonight." Her eyes lit up, and she clasped her hands together.

I laughed at her enthusiasm. "Where are you going?"

"To a party at the sorority."

I frowned. "I thought you weren't into those?"

"I have to make an appearance at one or two at least, or else I could be kicked out," she explained, getting her clothes on. "Yes, they can really be that petty. Can you imagine? But the name of an honors sorority looks good on a resume, so … "

"I get it …  Still, I don't think I'll go. Maybe I'll take myself to a movie or something."

"Girl, you need to live a little. I don't usually get on your case about not being more involved in the social side of things , but can't let yourself graduate without some fun under your belt. Come on. Let off some steam."

"As tempting as it sounds, you know I'm not into the party scene. Please, go, have fun. I'll only end up ruining your good time or dragging you out of there early. Trust me, I'll be fine here."

She frowned and folded her arms. "Okay. Oh, I'll be going home right after the party … I've got an early start to a spa day with my mom, and dinner at the grandparents Sunday evening. I won't be back until Monday for my first class. Are you sure you'll be okay here by yourself?"

"I won't be alone," I grinned, pointing to the window.

"Ahhh yes, the bodyguard has you covered."

"Uh-huh. Logan De Luca is on the case."

"That's his name? Have you been fraternizing with your protective detail?" she joked.

"Only enough to get his business card. He wanted me to have his cell phone number just in case he isn't around if Austin makes an appearance."

"Smart. Okay I'm off now. You be safe. Maybe I'll see you later on and you'll have a change of heart about this party tonight."

"I doubt it," I said, getting out of bed to start the day. "Take care hun."





17





Evan





What a workout. What a trainer.

I was beginning to understand why they had assigned Samantha to my recovery and rehab team. Three weeks into the program and I was close to a hundred percent better. She was competent, driven, and able to focus, even when I went overboard with the clowning around and sexual suggestions.

After we wrapped up today, I got a text from Mo, who had my car. He was stuck on the other side of town, which was no problem most of the time, except I needed to get somewhere in a hurry. There wasn't time to phone anyone at the frat house for a ride, although I would have if I had to.

I checked outside for Samantha. She was just getting to her car.

"Hey, are you in a rush to go anywhere?" I asked.

"What's up? Need a ride?"

"I was supposed to be somewhere by noon, but Mo has my ride."

"Where is it?"

"Just a gig I do for some special people. Shit. They're gonna be pissed." I wasn't pretending.

"You're working? I thought you athletes weren't allowed?"                       
       
           



       

"No no. Nothing like that."

"Get in. I'll drop you off."

I went over to the front passenger door. "Great, thanks."

She jumped in and started the car, buckling up. "Where am I taking you?"

"Sacred Hearts Medical Center. Pediatrics Ward."

She shot me a look of amazement as she drove off. "You're kidding, right?"

"About what?"

"The fact that you're going to that hospital, and that particular ward."

"Why is that so strange?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Both my parents work there."

"Really? I know most of the doctors there. What are their names?"

Her mouth formed a hard line and she continued to stare straight ahead at the road. Not even a glance my way. "Dr. Sarah Woodward, and …  Dr. Winston Woodward."

"They're your parents?" She nodded. "No way … I know them both."

"Wow."

"Small world, huh?"

"Really small." She frowned, and I took an extra moment to study her.

"What's wrong with the fact that I know them?"

"Maybe you should tell me why you're visiting and how you know them. It'll probably make a lot more sense to me."

"The football team does a two-week patient outreach with the pediatric ward every year."

She nodded as though it finally made sense. "Okay, I think I remember my mom talking about it. The players read to the kids, right?"

"Yes. That's the one."

"It's not on right now, is it?"

"No, but one of the staff mentioned they needed more regular volunteers, so I started going by twice a month for an hour each time. Normally I visit on Sunday, but as we're in the off season, I started going in on Saturdays."

"And you're the only player who still does it?"

"Yeah. There are a few regular kids … they grew on me, I guess."

Samantha's face softened a bit, and her lips formed a smile. "That's incredibly sweet," she said. "You continue to amaze me, Evan Marshall."

"I can't imagine why," I smirked.

"There are so many sides of you … I never thought … okay you got me. I didn't think you had it in you to be kind and compassionate."

"Somehow that sounds like a dig to me, Samantha."

"It's not … not really, anyway. But football jocks have a way of presenting themselves as one-dimensional. Two, tops."

"Which are?"

"Let's not go there. If you don't know by now, it doesn't much matter …  I'm honestly impressed to find out about this, Evan." She made it to a stop light and turned to look at me, as if seeing me in a different light. A second later, that expression disappeared, replaced by what I'd seen on her face when we were in my bedroom. Excitement and lust, with a dash of terror.

"Try not to let it get around," I told her.

"Get what around?"

"My doing volunteer work with the kids."

"See? That's exactly what I mean." She shook her head. "It's like jocks are programmed differently or something … maybe it's just men."

"Don't knock us till you … well, you know. Why is it such a bad thing that I don't want anyone to know about this hospital gig?"

"Think about it. You have no problem with people talking about your … tastes in the bedroom, or criticizing the way you trash talk pretty much everything under the sun. Yet here's this selfless thing you do for others, for no other reason than to help, and you're ashamed of being seen as kind."

"Yeah well, there's an easy explanation for that."

"Which is?"

"No one wants to be the nice guy."

"Seriously?"

"You know where nice guy finish? Dead last. It's a Darwin thing."

She blinked a few times, stifling down a laugh. "I … I really have no words right now."

"Now that we got that sorted out, could you uh, step on it? I don't want to disappoint the little ones by showing up late."

Samantha grinned, and wore a smile a mile wide the rest of the way. The tension broke. Finally. We could talk like two normal people.





18





Samantha





My perception of Evan evolved another increment by the time we stepped inside the hospital. Who was this guy? He was in a chair surrounded by about a dozen pediatric patients of various pre-teen ages who could walk or wheelchair into the small library on the floor. The nursing staff raved about him. Pediatricians and pediatric surgeons loved him. And the kids, they adored him. I was glad I went along to watch, because I'd never have believed it if someone told me Evan Marshall had a single nurturing bone in his body.