8. Dane

8

DANE

It’s only been a couple of weeks since circumstances have thrown us into each other’s lives, but I’ve seen Morgan Caldwell in many moods.

Irritated when she first showed up in my kitchen and realized my cookware was significantly lacking. Appeased when I told her she could buy anything she needed on my credit card. Amused by Eli’s colorful retellings of his latest escapades in the dating. And just now, she’s shown what she looks like when embarrassed after asking me about my sex life.

But I’ve never seen her look shaken.

Protective instincts I wasn’t aware I possessed rear to life deep in my chest. I have the undeniable desire to destroy whatever it is that caused the confident woman in front of me to cower into herself.

Or should I say whoever .

I tear my eyes off the beauty in front of me. I glare at the man wearing a smug expression as he stands near the weight room entrance, staring at Morgan.

I’ve only seen him in passing. He’s a new athletic trainer. He was hired in response to the organization’s out-of-the-blue decision to shake up the team’s training and diet plans.

I haven’t interacted with the guy, but Morgan’s expression suggests that she knows him and isn’t a fan—which means I’m not a fan.

I look between the pair, waiting for Morgan to respond to the guy’s statement.

She just stares at him. Her lips lower into a deep frown while the guy continues to smirk.

Tell me you’re an asshole without telling me you’re an asshole.

“Hey, man.” I step forward, subtly putting myself between him and Morgan even though he’s still halfway across the room. “Not to be rude, but we were in the middle of a conversation. Is there something I can help you with?”

The guy’s arrogant gaze slides to me. I sense his disdain, but the disrespect fades when he registers who I am. “Wow. Dane Larson. It’s an honor.” He closes the distance between us and holds out a hand.

I stare at the offer for a prolonged second before taking it. I squeeze a little tighter than necessary. “And you are?”

“Aaron. Aaron Burns. I’m a new trainer on staff. It’s nice to meet you.”

I dip my chin and release his hand. “I’m sure.”

His smile fades when I don’t return his polite sentiment.

It’s not because his presence is clearly making my ball-busting nutritionist so uncomfortable she can’t speak, but because I recognize the bastard’s name.

Since the day Morgan showed up at my condo to inventory my food selection, Eli has been trying to goad me into admitting I’m interested in her. He won’t listen when I say it’s been months since we made out at the club—that time has cured us both of the lustful haze that overshadowed good sense that night.

His most recent attempt? He shared the story Morgan told him about her most recent ex. Apparently, the guy was a narcissistic ass who criticized Morgan’s physical appearance. She told Eli his criticisms were hard to deal with at the time, but she’s used them as motivation to support other female athletes and help encourage positive body image values with anyone she works with.

She also told Eli’s his name. And it was Aaron fucking Burns.

I let my cold eyes run over the prick in front of me. Who is he to criticize Morgan’s appearance? Sure, he’s in shape. But he’s of average height and build. He’s ordinary. I could walk onto the streets of Midtown and find a dozen guys who look like him.

Morgan is extraordinary. From her beauty to her intelligence to her toned yet feminine physique, she’s incredible. Any guy would be lucky to be with her. Only an idiot would think otherwise.

Aaron shakes off my dismissive behavior and once again focuses on Morgan.

“Look at you, Morgan. Finally working for a sports team.” His lips curl. I resist the urge to smack the judgmental grin off his face. “But I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? Not when you consider who your father is.”

I have no idea what he means, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t like his tone. Or the way the mouthy brunette doesn’t speak up to defend herself.

I can’t explain what motivates me to do what I do next. All I know is I want to put this asshole in his place, and this is the first thing that comes to mind.

I extend my arm and wrap it around Morgan’s shoulder, drawing her close. “How do you know my girl?”

I feel Morgan stiffen. I squeeze her shoulder, silently telling her to go with it.

Aaron’s eyes narrow. “Your girl?”

“Did you two go to school together?” I ask, ignoring his prying question.

Aaron’s eyes dart between us. When they focus on Morgan, I caress her shoulder with my thumb. She shifts and leans into me. I take it as approval to continue my antics.

“We dated.” His lips flatten.

“Did you? Huh?” I look down at Morgan to find she’s already looking at me. “You never told me you dated a trainer.”

I respect athletic trainers’ work—I do. But I add a dismissive note to the word, hoping to knock this prick down a peg or two.

From the subtle huff he exhales, I’d say I accomplished the task.

Amusement cracks through Morgan’s stoic expression. Softly, she says, “It didn’t seem relevant.”

That’s my girl.

“That makes sense. Our pasts are in the past for a reason.” I look back at Burns. Anger colors his features. It takes all my self-control not to grin. “Don’t you think?”

“Sure.” He grinds out.

I could stay here and give this guy a hard time all night. I’ve met guys like him before. I’ve played against a lot of them. He thinks he’s God’s gift to humankind, and I’d bet my salary that he has a temper.

I could push Aaron to the point where he snaps and does something stupid like take a swing at me, but while Morgan had a moment of bravery when she delivered her subtle taunt regarding their relationship, she’s still stiff as a board under my arm.

She’s uncomfortable, and getting her out of this situation trumps any desire I have to see if Aaron Burns is dumb enough to try and attack me because he’s jealous.

“Come on, babe.” I tug Morgan to the right. “My brother is waiting for us to meet him for dinner.”

“Right.” She moves without resistance. “See you around, Aaron.”

She doesn’t look at her ex when she says goodbye, but I do. And the prick is seething.

It’s amazing.

I dip my chin and let my lips curl into an arrogant smirk reminiscent of the one he wore just minutes ago. “Have a good night.”

I lead Morgan out of the weight room, hiding my grin until we are through the doors. We turn the corner, and then I bark a laugh.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Morgan murmurs.

I look down. She’s watching me. Her lips twitch, but her gaze is skeptical.

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to.” Before she can ask why, I admit, “Eli told me about your relationship with him.”

“Oh.” She frowns. I’m worried she will be mad, but she just sighs. I feel her shoulders fall as she releases the pent-up tension. She doesn’t move to dislodge my arm, so I keep it in place. “I don’t know what it is about Aaron, but ever since our breakup, I freeze whenever I’m around him.”

“How often are you around him?”

“Not much anymore. We shared a friend group, and I tried to maintain those relationships after we broke up, but he didn’t make it easy. I realized it was better for my mental health to cut off all connections to him, even if it meant I lost friends. It was hard, but it was for the best.”

“I get it.”

She tips her head back and lifts a brow. “You do?”

I nod. “My college girlfriend and I dated nearly all four years in school. We had the same friends, and it sucked when we broke up. I lost touch with a lot of them.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrug. “Don’t be. That was years ago. All I’m trying to say is I get how hard breakups can be. And even though it wasn’t the mature thing to do, I’m glad I was there when you ran into that asshole.”

“I appreciate that,” she chuckles softly. “But honestly, pretending we’re together was a bit short-sighted.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… Aaron works for the team which means he’ll be around. Eventually, he’s going to learn we aren’t really dating.”

“Hm.” I stare down the hall that leads to the locker room. An idea forms in my head. Before I question it, I say, “What if we keep up the ruse with the whole team?”

Morgan stops walking and dips her shoulder. My arm falls to my side as I turn to face her.

“What are you talking about, Dane?”

God, I love it when she says my name, even when it’s because she’s irritated.

“Why don’t we pretend to date? Just for a little bit. Just long enough to really piss off your ex.”

She crosses her arms. “Why in the world would you do that?”

Because I hated seeing you turn into a shell of yourself in his presence.

“I want us to be friends.” I hesitate briefly before I add, “And I want the team to take me seriously.”

She tilts her head as she assesses me. “And pretending to be interested in me will do that?”

Who’s pretending?

“I’m aware I have a certain reputation. The press likes to portray me as a party boy player.” A year ago, they wouldn’t have been wrong. But things have changed.

I don’t know if it’s just the natural progression that comes with age, but late nights out at clubs and partying with models and celebrities have lost their allure. I’d much rather chill with my brother, Carter, or Cam than go out on the town. But the media hasn’t caught onto that change.

“Okay… What does that have to do with us pretending to date?”

“Having a wholesome girlfriend would be good for my image.”

“And you can’t find a real wholesome girlfriend?”

I shrug. “I don’t have time to date.”

Not meaningfully, anyway.

If I want, I can contact one of the hundreds of women who slide into my DMs, offering explicit favors with no strings attached. I’ve done it before.

But I’m not interested in meaningless hookups these days. I want more. I don’t know how to find the time to foster that sort of relationship. I had a glimmer of hope for me and Morgan when we ran into each other that night. That obviously didn’t work out.

Morgan isn’t into me. She’s made it clear she tolerates me for the sake of her job, but I can’t help but hope she will consider my offer. Now that I’ve had the idea, improving my image could benefit me.

Just recently, my agent reminded me how my public persona would influence whether or not a team would offer the Ranchers a trade for me. It wasn’t something I gave much thought to, but after the organization’s recent criticism of my performance, I’ve considered the Ranchers may no longer be the best fit for me. I might need to look for another team in the future. If that’s the case, bolstering my public appearance wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Morgan purses her lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” My lips part in a wide smile.

“Really.” Her lips twitch. She flings a strand of hair over her shoulder. “But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not sure I want the world to think I’m another one of Dane Larson’s conquests.”

“You’d be my girlfriend. Not a conquest.”

She blinks. “Same thing.”

Hardly.

“We should do it, Morgan.” I meet her gaze, letting her see how serious I am. “Us being together will put that prick in his place, and it will give me a chance to rise above the playboy reputation I idiotically earned in my twenties. It benefits us both.”

Morgan gazes at me thoughtfully. I wish I knew what she was thinking behind those beautiful brown eyes.

Resolve floods her expression. “Okay.”

Hope sparks in my chest. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay.” She nods. “I agree fake dating each other will be mutually beneficial.”

A satisfied grin pulls at my lips. It falters when she gently jabs a finger in my chest and says, “But there will be rules, Larson. And I expect you to follow each one.”

My grin returns when I hear her breath hitch when I catch her hand in mine.

Maybe she’s not as unaffected by me as I thought.

“I expect nothing less, Caldwell. Tell me your rules.”