3

Cleo

Nice For My Vixen

Underneath the miles and miles of KYU scouting paperwork - there he was. Miles Locke. I tapped the side of my computer with my nails, browsing over the websites for different pictures of him. It wasn't an obsession. The man just looked good. Who was I to deny checking out the sights while I was in Oklahoma?

"Cleo?"

I jolted up. The day had been long, and I finally had time to myself in my hotel room. Until I didn't. The break lasted all of ten minutes. Lucky for me, the team captain for the Romans called for information on our schedule for the fall semester.

Who needs a break anyway?

The clock on my laptop ticked closer to ten, and I resisted sighing into the phone.

"Yeah, sorry—distracted," I said.

"Okay." Ryan cleared his throat. "And then I press the share button?"

It turned out being one of the interns for the PR department of Marrs meant helping the technophobic team captain with his calendar. Go figure. I didn't realize anyone on Planet Earth was still stuck in the steam engine era until I had to explain what a flash drive was to him.

"Ryan, I can just do this."

"I don't want to put more work on you," he reassured me.

But you're putting more work on me right now.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook my head. We had an early breakfast meeting, and I didn't have time for this.

"Don't worry about it, I've got it," I told him. He tried to argue, but I wasn't interested in arguing. "Ryan, there's—uh—Coach Lawson needs something."

"This late?"

"It's a late—late addition—" My eyes flickered to my laptop screen.

Miles Locke grinned back at me from the screen, dirty blonde hair tousled, an easy tilt to his features, like he was edging someone closer, daring you to meet him.

Nope.

Inappropriate thoughts needed to stay just thoughts.

"I'll talk to you later," I said and hung up the phone.

That didn't help with the Miles fixation. I couldn't calm down. What was it about that wide receiver?

He jumped my nerves like nothing else.

Not good.

Since I wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon, I decided to grab a cold coffee from the hotel shop. With a yawn, I slipped on my flats and walked down to the front desk. It was quiet in the hotel, even during the summer. I blinked, finally sleepy, finally achieving that tiredness I'd been hoping for, and rounded the corner to hear a voice.

His voice.

There was no way.

"How about I just drop them off?" he asked.

I couldn't decide if I was wandering into a daydream or some kind of ridiculous fantasy. That was Miles's voice, but also, no, it couldn't be.

Yes, it could. Him—standing in front of the front desk—was proof of it.

Rugged, rough, always with that teasing twinkle in his eyes, Miles leaned against the podium like he personally owned a stake in the company. The front desk employee didn't stop gawking at him for a second. He wasn't even trying to use his charm. That was all natural for him.

He had a big bouquet in his arms, roses, peonies, hibiscuses, dahlias, and more flowers I didn't recognize, all bunched together in a huge formation with one theme - red.

Red petals, all of them. The red was almost overwhelming; they were that bright.

The breath caught in my throat. "Mr. Locke?"

He glanced over and his grin widened. "Cleo Bennight."

"Mr. Locke…?" I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of the pajamas I'd been walking around in. Another blush touched my cheeks, but that seemed like it'd be consistent with Miles around. "You're here…?"

"I am."

I waited for an explanation, but he didn't provide one. "You're here for…?"

"Yes."

Damn. I thought so.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my shoulders. "Bribes aren't a part of Marrs culture. We reward based on merit and merit alone—"

"You think the flowers are a bribe? "

I blinked. "Um, sorry, I thought…."

"Wait, you thought I brought you flowers for a bribe? That's pretty funny."

"Me?"

The idea was incomprehensible. I couldn't wrap my head around it. It didn't make sense. We were the dark blue Romans after all. That's what Marrs was known for. Red just didn't match.

But why…?

Instinctively, my fingers reached out to tug a red curl, and he nodded.

"That's right, Cleo. Red for my vixen."

The blush seared on my skin.

"What—?"

"Who'd you think I brought flowers for?"

"Coach Lawson?" I said slowly, realizing how ridiculous that sounded in real-time.

I shook my head. Explanations didn't matter, we couldn't have a conversation like this in front of outsiders. And the front desk employee was looking a little too interested. Striding over, I almost grabbed Miles's arm but thought better of it. Instead, I ushered him to the lobby couches, separated by dividers.

"Mr. Locke, this is—this is inappropriate."

"I was just dropping them off. I didn't think you'd come downstairs."

"That wasn't—I came down for coffee."

"I'm sure you think so."

I scoffed, but even that sounded tame. The smile on my face wouldn't go away, no matter how much I tried to hold it back. "It's the truth."

"No, I think you sensed me down here."

The way he slid the line into the conversation, a lone card in a game I didn't know we were playing, had me burning bright red again. Stumbling through my sentences, I could barely recognize my own voice. "Mr. Locke, you—I appreciate the flowers, but I am part of the scouting—"

"I don't care about Marrs."

I stared at him. "This isn't about…?"

"No offense, I couldn't give less of a shit about your university."

"But…?"

Miles took a step towards me, the kind of step that forces you to curve up to meet them. The kind that cuts the distance between you…damn, he was addicting. Whatever sleepiness I felt evaporated into thin air. He wasn't a cup of coffee. Miles was a shot of caffeine straight to my veins.

"Cleo," he murmured. "I wanted to apologize for my teammate."

"You already apologized?"

"It wasn't a good enough apology. Do you like the flowers?"

"They're beautiful, but—"

"You wouldn't believe how much I had to pay to get the florist to open at this hour. All red too. We ripped the bouquets apart."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did. See how good they look, paired with you?" he murmured. "You are beautiful, Cleo Bennight. But I have to say, you look even better with gifts." His smirk didn't just cross his face, it brightened his eyes. "Thankfully, I offer my services. All for you."

A few inches closer, I found myself shaking my head. "You're trouble."

"That's me."

"I'm not looking for trouble."

"Then I'll be anything you want me to be." His eyes searched my face. There was something in those eyes that made my stomach tighten. "I thought I was just dropping the flowers off, but if you don't have plans, I know a few late-night dinner places to extend the apology. No drive-throughs either. We can find something nice for my vixen."

"Your vixen?"

"Vixen. Yes."

That wasn't the question I wanted answered, and the man knew it. "Who do you think this vixen belongs to?"

"Me. But I don't offer a collar. No matter how pretty you'd look with one on."

Heat pooled between my legs and he definitely knew it. The satisfaction on his face was undeniable.

"Mr. Locke, I have an…early morning," I said slowly.

"So do I, at practice, showing off for you."

I couldn't push down the butterflies. Miles was only inches away, and for one wild moment, I imagined how it would be to kiss him. I wanted to run my fingers over his beard and tug him down to me. And his lips . What the hell did he need lips that nice for?

I wanted to find out.

A voice bellowed down the hall. "If you want to be a pussy and go to bed, you are welcome to. I don't give a—"

"Shit!" I jerked back from the temptation. There I was, practically in an embrace with Miles Locke, while my boss walked down the hallway.

Hell no.