Archer’s hand was resting on the table and I didn’t realize I’d reached for it until our fingers were tying together. “She says it’s the best first date she’s ever been on.”
THE SHOCK WAS back in San Diego, and everyone was excited to be playing in front of a home group of fans. We’d all gotten in late last night, and Archer had headed back to his apartment to meet his sisters, who had gotten into the city earlier and were waiting for him, while I went home to my empty apartment. Homecomings like this reminded me why I loved being on the road so much—it made me forget about just how alone I was.
It wasn’t possible for me to go to his place with his sisters there. It wouldn’t have been possible even if they weren’t. While he was in Shock territory, cameras followed him everywhere short of the public restroom, and it wouldn’t take long for people to figure out that the petite blonde he was with was the same one in her first year as an athletic trainer on the team he played for. We’d be safer in other cities, not that safe was any way of putting it.
After spending a fitful night as a human cyclone in my bed, I decided to head to Shock Stadium a couple hours early for lack of anything else to occupy my time.
Opening the door to my apartment, I found a box on the stoop, wrapped in the Shock’s royal blue and white, along with a card with my name on it tucked under the bow. Kneeling, I opened the card:
Couldn’t sleep last night. Maybe I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re in this.
It was signed 'Archer' in big bold letters, which seemed like a strange way to sign a person’s name. Checking around to make sure I wasn’t about to lift a racy scrap of lingerie out of the box in front of any neighbors, I pulled the ribbon free and opened the box.
The same big, bold letters stared at me from within the box, right above the number eleven, stitched on a Shock jersey. Lingerie—Luke Archer style.
Pulling it out, I let the jersey unfold in front of me. I wanted to put it on now. I wanted to wear it for the game today, like thousands of other fans who would be wearing Archer’s number eleven on their backs.
I wanted what I couldn’t have.
Letting out a sigh, I folded the jersey back up and set the box inside my apartment before I locked the door and headed to the stadium. For now, I’d have to leave Luke Archer to the fans.
I was the first one in the locker room, not that that was a first. I knew who would be the second to arrive. Luke always showed up way before the rest of the players. He had his ritual and routine before a game, although today’s routine would include another ice bath.
The moment his eyes landed on me when I emerged from the room we kept the ice tubs in, his face fell.
“Nice to see you too,” I greeted, trying to ignore the way my stomach was knotting from seeing him.
“You’re not wearing my jersey.”
“Did you actually think I would? Or that I could?”
“I guess not.” His shoulders sagged. He was pouting. Luke Archer pouted.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be sure to wear it to bed tonight.”
His eyes darkened. “You know what would make me feel even better?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “If it’s all you wore to bed tonight.”
I had to remind myself where I was and who would be arriving soon—the entire Shock brigade of players and staff.
“Deal,” I said, waving into the room where the bath was ready for him. “The bath’s ready whenever you are. Fifteen minutes in there, then we’ll hit you with a heat treatment.”
When he dropped his sports bag at the foot of his locker, hanging his cap up before tugging off his tee, I backed up a few steps.
Space seemed like a good thing right then.
“How’s your leg doing?” I asked, diverting my gaze when his fingers dropped to his jeans.
“Fantastic, thanks to your tender loving care.” His words were dripping insinuation.
“No pain?” I lifted a brow, doubtful. The kind of pull he’d sustained didn’t just go away as suddenly as it had happened.
“None.”
“Comfortable putting your weight on it?”
“I’m comfortable putting my weight on it, supporting someone else’s weight on it . . .” He made sure I was looking before he dropped his jeans. And shit. He was commando. And at full staff. More space between us seemed like an even better idea.
“How are your sisters?” I gave an innocent smile and waited.
His face fell. Other parts of his anatomy, not so much. “You’re cruel.”
“And you’ve got a date with a tub full of ice. Let me know when you’re out.” Snagging the clipboard from outside Coach’s office, I pretended to be focused on the line-up for the day as I headed into the supply room.