2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Carissa

"It's not that I'm scared…" I bounce my leg up and down a few times, pretending my big sister isn't seeing right through my bravado while we sit in the back of a car and ride through the streets of Los Angeles. "I just… Rugby isn't my field, you know? I don't know anything about sports."

"But you are a licensed physical therapist." Darcy rolls her eyes. They're unnaturally blue today because she's dressed up as her fancy sports reporter persona, Tamlin Park. I found out about her alter-ego by accident when I showed up unannounced at her house in St. Louis last week and found her snacking in the kitchen looking like someone she isn't, and I'm still wrapping my head around it. Like, I've seen her on TV. A lot. And I had no idea it was her. Apparently she's been a well-known reporter for years, and this whole time I thought my sister was just a glorified intern.

"You're the one who said she wanted a change of scenery," Darcy reminds me and smiles down at her phone .

I try not to snoop, but I can't help it when my eyes are drawn to places they shouldn't be. Immediately I regret letting my gaze fall to the texts her husband is currently sending her. "Oh, I did not want to read that," I say, pretending to puke.

"Then you shouldn't have looked," Darcy says matter-of-factly. She types a text that has a lot of questionable emojis, hits send, and flips to the camera so she can check her makeup. Of which there is a lot.

I guess there would need to be to make her look like someone completely different. She's wearing a wig too, and I miss seeing the blonde curls we share. She was never meant to be a brunette, but the media site she works for makes all their reporters wear disguises for their safety.

"Is Houston still attracted to you when you look like this?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer. The two of them have been married for two months, and they're definitely still in the sickening honeymoon phase. I should have considered the fact that they would be all over each other when I made the decision to visit her on a whim.

Fixing her lipstick, Darcy glances at me and smirks. "I don't think you want me to answer that question," she guesses.

I grimace. "No. I don't."

As she goes back to her absolutely not PG-13 texting, I turn my gaze to the window and take in the sights. I've never been to California before now, and it always felt like some magical land far away. I've spent my entire life in Pennsylvania, and up until two weeks ago I figured I would die there too. Now, I'm not so sure.

I'm also not sure if I can live in a state severely lacking in trees, but we'll see how it goes.

"I still don't know why you couldn't have found me a job in St. Louis," I mumble.

Darcy grabs my hand. "I would have if I could have. But honestly, I think it might be better for you to totally get away. Stretch your wings. And the owners of the Thunder owed me a favor, which is how I was able to get you this job."

"I didn't even know we had rugby teams in the US." When Darcy told me she'd gotten me a job on the sports medicine team for the Los Angeles Thunder, I had to look up what type of sport rugby is. From the looks of things, it's a cross between football and soccer and a breeding ground for injuries. At least I'll have plenty to do?

"I think rugby is an underrated sport here," Darcy replies, "but it's really popular in the rest of the world."

My leg starts bouncing again. "I don't know why I agreed to this."

"Because you trust your big sister."

"Do you really think it's a good idea for me to move clear across the country and take up a job that is more specialized than what I'm used to? I know it's similar, but… I don't even know where I'm going to be living, let alone how to do a job that's so different from what I'm used to."

Squeezing my hand, Darcy gives me a warm smile that instantly calms me. She may not look like herself right now, but that smile is so familiar. "Rizzo, you'll be fine. I'm not about to drop you off in a strange state without making sure you have everything you need. We'll stop by the training field so I can do some interviews and introduce you to your new boss, and then—"

"Wait, you're taking me to the training field? I am so not prepared for that! Why didn't you tell me?"

She frowns. "Why do you think I'm dressed up like this? It's not for fun. Besides, I thought I told you. Hmm, maybe it slipped my mind because the team doesn't know we're coming either."

I gape at her. "What do you mean they don't know we're coming?"

"I get way better information when I show up unannounced. Anyway, I'll take you to the apartment Houston rented for you after we're done. He said it's in a good area, and you know he won't have skimped on all the features."

There's no point in trying to fight her on her plans. I love my sister, but she has always been excellent at channeling her older sibling energy. "I both love and hate that your new husband is insanely rich," I grumble. I mostly love it, though, because it's not like I can afford anything on my own. At least my living situation is handled, even if the job thing is questionable.

Darcy snickers. "That's what happens when you're a world-class athlete."

"So what you're saying is these rugby players I'm going to be working with will all be rich snobs like Houston?"

Darcy laughs. "First of all, Houston is hardly a snob, and you know it. Second of all, no." Her laughter turns into a frustrated frown. "Rugby in the US isn't like baseball or football. Most of the players have second jobs because there's not enough money going around for them to make livable wages. Yet ." Something tells me she's going to try to change that. If anyone can, Darcy can.

Still, I breathe easier knowing I won't be surrounded by people who think they automatically deserve anything they want. Or don't want. As I recently learned, men of privilege are dangerous, and I want nothing to do with them. Houston gets the only pass because he's my brother-in-law and actually pretty great.

"We're here," Darcy says as the car pulls to a stop. "You can still change your mind and come back to Missouri with me when I'm done here, but I think this will be a good move for you after everything that happened."

She means after I fell in love with one of my patients, risking my whole career as a physical therapist because I thought he loved me back. Spoiler: he didn't.

Maybe she's right. Maybe I do need a complete overhaul of my life, and I can't get any farther from my mistakes than sunny Los Angeles. Who would have thought I'd have a mid-life crisis at twenty-five? Not me. I thought for sure I would last in my career of choice longer than two years.

"Well?" Darcy pushes her door open and turns to look at me with her perfectly sculpted eyebrows raised high.

I let out a deep and dramatic sigh, which is my way of trying to rid myself of all the fears holding me back. I make—er, made —my patients do that all the time, and it usually helped push them to work harder to overcome their obstacles. I'm hoping it works for me too. "I can do this," I say under my breath. "I can do anything I put my mind to."

"Yes, you can," Darcy agrees and steps out onto the sidewalk, telling the driver to wait for us.

It's easy for her to be confident. She's wearing gaucho pants and wedge heels and somehow making it look classy, and I'm over here in sweatpants and a hoodie I put on because the plane was freezing. I certainly don't need it now, but all I have on underneath is a hot pink tank top with a cartoon unicorn on it.

Darcy is already heading for the stadium, so I scramble out of the car and hurry after her while a voice in the back of my mind says I should change into something a little more professional. But if I turn back now, there's no way I'm making it into the stadium of my own free will.

I'm not Darcy.

My sister has always been confident—probably because she was the only girl on her high school baseball team—but it's still fascinating to watch her walk into a pro team practice with her head held high. She looks like she belongs here, and she completely ignores the heads that swivel in her direction when the players start to notice her.

I can't help but notice the players . My education was centered around the function of the human body, and I know the importance of muscle in protecting the other elements like bones and tendons. Plus, I had an athlete or two come into our clinic in Philly. But as I follow Darcy along the edge of the field, I am in complete awe .

I've never seen more beautiful legs in my life. Some of these guys have thighs bigger than my waist, their quads and hamstrings bulging in ways I've never seen before. I can't even admire their upper body strength because all I can see are calves and adductor muscles. It's a beautiful symphony of anatomical function. A demonstration of the majesty of the human body in a way I've never seen before.

I might be in heaven.

"Rizzo, will you hold on to this for me?" Darcy interrupts my gawking, stuffing something small into my hand.

I look down, surprised to see her wedding ring on my palm. "Why?" Should I be worried that she's already looking to stray from her perfect husband? But no, she would never do that, even if other people would. Not everyone is Peter.

Chuckling, she pats my cheek. "Will you relax? Tamlin isn't married, and some of these guys will be more open to talking to me if I flirt a bit. Houston knows the drill."

I slip the ring onto my finger. "I hope you're right." Goodness, it's getting warm, and I tug on the collar of my sweatshirt, trying to get some air flow. "I still can't believe you lied to me about all this," I say, gesturing to her getup.

She laughs as her eyes catch on one of the players as he approaches us. "I literally couldn't tell anyone. Not even Houston. That's why you had to sign that NDA."

Honestly, I have no idea what I signed. I trusted Darcy and Houston when they said it was perfectly safe, and all I know is I can't tell anyone that Darcy is Tamlin. Not even our parents, though that should be easy because I've been avoiding them. They don't know why I left my clinic in Philly either, which is a miracle unto itself. Thank goodness they recently stopped watching the local news .

"Tamlin Park," the player says, finally reaching us on the edge of the field. He's monstrous compared to the average human, but he honestly looks like one of the smaller guys on the team.

I don't think there's a single person on that field who is anything but a pure beast.

Darcy smiles wide and holds out her hand. "Malcolm Auxier. I've wanted to meet you for a long time."

Malcolm, whose last name sounded more like ‘Oaks-yay' than how it's spelled on his uniform, folds his large arms, ignoring Darcy's outstretched hand. "This is a closed practice, Park."

This guy is so gruff and tough that he's incredibly intimidating, but Darcy doesn't waver. "Whatever you think I'm here to do," she says, "you're wrong. I don't do that anymore. I just want to talk about the game."

A few more players decide to join us, all of them big, burly, and beautiful. Though, one of them looks like he's been hit in the head a few too many times, one of his ears lumpy and misshapen. It doesn't matter because his shoulders are the stuff of legends, and he looks like he's seven feet tall.

"Oo, what did you do, Moxie?" one of the guys taunts as he wraps an arm around his teammate's shoulders.

Malcolm narrows his eyes. "Nothing. She claims she's here in peace," he says without taking his gaze off Darcy.

Darcy snickers and looks at the gathered guys, lingering on one who looks more nervous than the others. Most of them are smiling and actually look pretty friendly, but one guy in the back simply looks angry.

He's also insanely handsome, but his glower is enough to dampen any attraction in that direction. Besides, I shouldn't be looking at any of these guys with attraction because they are, hopefully, going to be my patients in a few days. Colleagues? Regardless, I will not fall into the same problem that got me here in the first place .

"You know," Darcy says to the group, "you only have to be worried about me if you have something to hide. But like I said, I don't do that anymore." She says that last bit to Malcolm, her smile growing. "I was hoping to talk to Coach Galvin."

"He's not here." It's the grumpy one who says that, his gaze growing harder.

"The coach isn't at practice?" I ask in surprise. I immediately regret it when half a dozen pairs of manly eyes turn to me, all of them assessing my sweats and messy bun. A couple of them, I notice with a spike of pleasure, seem to like what they see.

That doesn't matter! I remind myself. I am keeping a strict professional boundary between me and these ruggedly handsome men because I can't afford a repeat of Philadelphia. How many times am I going to have to tell myself that?

Based on how beautiful all these men are, I'm guessing it'll take a lot.

"Galvin had something to take care of today," Malcolm says, as much to me as to Darcy. "But if you're insistent on talking to someone, you can talk to me. I don't want you wandering around where you shouldn't. Your…" He eyes me, his eyebrows dipping low.

Darcy cups her hand around my shoulder. "This is your new rehab specialist, Carissa Paxton," she says.

A murmur ripples over the team, and their smiles of interest spark a dangerous fire in my belly. No, Carissa. Bad Carissa!

Malcolm, unlike his teammates, frowns at me. "Mel had a family emergency, so she isn't here to show you around."

"Mel's the athletic trainer," Darcy explains to me.

"Is anyone here?" I ask.

Several of the guys laugh. Malcolm's expression is more of a grimace. "You picked a bad day. I'll have one of the guys show you around while I talk to Park." He glances behind him as the guys all raise their hands eagerly to offer their services .

All but one. The grumpy one looks like he's regretting coming over here.

"Evanson," Malcolm says to him, much to the dismay of the other guys. "Mind showing Miss Paxton the facility?"

The grump's scowl deepens, and he looks like he very much minds. I wonder if Malcolm picked him because he was the only one who didn't look excited by the prospect of talking to me, though I can't imagine that's actually Malcolm's reasoning.

"I'm sure Bean would be a better fit," Evanson says, his voice a deep rumble.

The guy I assume is Bean, one in front with a goofy grin and the least amount of muscle mass, nods eagerly. "I got you, Cap," he says and steps forward.

Malcolm holds up a hand. "You still owe me sprints, Bean." Bean's smile drops into a disgruntled disappointment. "Cole, it won't take long, and you need a breather."

Evanson grumbles something but steps forward. "Fine." He holds his hand out to me. "Cole Evanson."

Though I still think I would rather walk around with Bean, I take hold of Cole's hand and try not to make a comment about how it dwarfs mine. He knows how big he is. "Carissa. But you can call me Rizzo." I say that to the guys in general, hoping it helps them see me as a friend. With muscles like theirs, I have a feeling I'm going to be spending a lot of time up close and personal with these men, and muscles are easier to loosen when they're relaxed.

A chorus of hellos follows my comment as the men wave at me and tell me their own names all at the same time. I didn't catch most of them, but I've got time to learn.

"So," Darcy says, holding her phone out to record Malcolm. "How are you feeling about your season so far?"

"We'll go this way," Cole grunts and starts walking without waiting to see if I'll follow.

I should probably keep up with him, but I can't help but turn to Bean and ask, "Is he always that grumpy?"

Bean snickers as his teammates laugh. "Always. Rihanna is our biggest diva."

Moxie, Bean, Rihanna… Apparently this is a team full of nicknames, and I'm extra glad I introduced myself as Rizzo. Maybe this new gig will work out better than I thought.