3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Cole

I know what Moxie's doing. With Coach who knows where, the captain asked me to run drills with the forwards in an attempt to get me to bond with them, but it has turned into a morning of tense arguments and my teammates resisting anything I say. The guys don't like me being in charge of anything, muttering things about my questionable knowledge of the game because my head's too full of "princess play" from my years of playing football.

I know how to lead a team, and my last year as a quarterback got the Badgers to the Super Bowl, but I can't do anything for a team who still sees me as an outsider.

My frustration must have been clear on my face, and Moxie seems to think playing tour guide will help me cool off.

I've nearly reached the try-zone before I look back to see if Little Miss Paxton followed me, though I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to stay back and flirt with the guys instead. She was giving them all sorts of eyes, and I don't want to even think about the trouble she's going to cause. A distraction like her is the last thing we need, especially with Coach getting flakier every day.

As far as I know, he didn't even give an excuse this time.

To my surprise, Carissa is hurrying after me, her face red from the exertion needed to keep up with my long strides. I'm guessing she's not from around here if she's wearing a hoodie in May, though I can't decide if she's cold or stupid.

She answers my question by tugging the sweatshirt off as soon as she reaches me. "It's so much warmer than I expected!" she breathes. "Is it always like this in LA?"

I can't answer because I'm too busy staring at the technicolor unicorn printed on her body-hugging tank top. Little Miss, indeed. She looks like she's barely out of college, if that, and she's nothing but skin and bone.

Turning an even deeper red, she tucks her arms around her middle after tying her sweatshirt around her waist. "I didn't realize I would be coming to the practice grounds today," she mumbles.

"I didn't realize we were getting another trainer," I mumble back. Does she have a clue how to do her job? My money's on no.

Carissa shrugs. "From what Da—Tamlin told me, I'm more like an intern. Here to help Mel out for the next little bit."

I didn't miss her slip, and though I don't know of any Paxtons connected to the team, things are starting to make sense if Daddy pulled some strings to get her a job. Whoever her father is, he probably gives his little girl anything she wants.

And she is little . I'd put her at five foot four at most, and she looks like she might snap in a light breeze. Hardly the kind of person who could handle some of the things Mel does as our athletic trainer.

I grunt, not sure what to say to her. She shifts her stance, and light catches on an impressive diamond sitting pretty on her finger. Ah, so maybe Paxton isn't her daddy's name after all. And if she's married, her flirty eyes with the guys are even more annoying than they already were .

"We're a fairly new team," I say sharply, making her jump with my sudden words. "Just a few years old. So our facility isn't anything special." I point to the building behind us. "Locker room and weight room are in there, and Mel's got her training room inside and to the left, next to Coach's office." Not that that last bit matters, since Coach has been picking and choosing when he wants to show up this season.

I'm pretty sure he has decided we're not going to make any waves this year, so he's not going to waste his time on a losing team.

"What's the schedule?" Carissa asks. "Is Mel here for every practice?"

"If she can be." She just had another nanny quit on her, which is why she isn't here today and might explain why the team hired another person to fill the gaps she leaves. Though, it's hard to believe Carissa could actually be useful when she looks like she can barely lift five pounds, assuming she would even want to try. If she has any knowledge about sports medicine, I'll be flabbergasted, which means she's just another person sucking limited funds out of the team budget.

I swallow my negative thoughts. I don't own the team, so it's not my decision on who gets hired and why. I should keep talking.

"We practice every afternoon, but not all the guys make it to every one because of day jobs." I can't keep the bitterness out of my words with that one. When I was in the NFL, the worst player in the league was still making over seven hundred grand to sit on a bench all year. Most of my Thunder teammates are lucky if they make over twenty. Even Moxie, arguably one of the best players in MLR, only makes forty thousand, and that's in part because I refused to be paid more than the bare minimum despite getting signed at a higher salary. With a limited amount of funds allocated to the team, my lower salary meant more could go to his.

If this were a hockey romance, most of these guys would be millionaires.

I growl at the thought. Apparently my brain is still on that kick even though Freya spent all of Sunday trying to distract me by making me go through foreign policy documents with her. It was interesting but not as diverting as she hoped because I didn't understand a lot of it. I have some business knowledge, but politics are beyond me.

"I think Tamlin shares your opinion on rugby salaries," Carissa says, smiling as she studies me.

I glance down the field to where Moxie is laughing at something Tamlin must have said. He has relaxed in the last few minutes, which hopefully is a sign that the devious reporter wasn't lying when she said she wasn't here to cause trouble. I already get enough of that from the tabloid site Hollywood Hot Scoop , and I don't need it on the sports side too. Tamlin Park made her career by taking down players across a variety of sports, including rugby. She's dangerous.

"That's surprising," I say. "Especially considering she ran a story about overpaid athletes just a couple of years ago."

Carissa's smile grows, and I glance up at the sky in confusion because it feels like the world gets brighter. It's sunny. As always. Not a cloud in the sky. "My brother-in-law is Houston Briggs," she says. "And he was one of the highest paid athletes in the country before he retired. He hated it and thinks the money could and should be used elsewhere. Like education or healthcare. Or maybe rugby." She winks.

"Huh." I met Houston once, back when he was dating my actor friend, Bonnie, but I wouldn't have pegged the pitcher for a philanthropist. I glance at Carissa's ring again, trying to fit all the pieces together. Houston only has one brother that I know of, who is also a Briggs. Not a Paxton. "How did you say you're related to Houston?"

Somehow, she brightens even more. Her tank top is already blindingly pink, and soon she'll be impossible to look at. "He married my sister back in March."

Oh. I'll admit I wasn't in the best of moods when that wedding happened—that was when I found out Sage was dating her soon-to-be husband and my never-to-be-again friend, Javi—but I vaguely remember Bonnie mentioning Houston's bride's name as Something Paxton. Bonnie was at the wedding and had plenty to say about it when she came home afterward.

Again, I wasn't paying much attention and didn't care to know about someone else's happy ending, but she might have mentioned someone named Carissa at one point. It doesn't explain the ring or her last name, though. Maybe it's just an engagement ring?

I grunt again, though it makes me feel cavemanish, and fold my arms. I don't know where to put my misplaced annoyance when I was expecting Carissa to respond differently to the money thing. "You met my friend, Bonnie, at the wedding?"

Carissa perks up, almost bouncing on her toes. "You're friends with Bonnie Aiken? Oh, I love her! And Hank too. Aren't they just the cutest?"

"The cutest," I repeat dumbly. Though, it's kind of true. Hank was practically made for Bonnie, and Bonnie's happier than I've ever seen her. Especially now that Hank is moving to Los Angeles so they can stop commuting back and forth from Colorado and California to see each other.

They made long distance work. Why couldn't Sage and I do the same? I know two months and two years are very different time frames, but Hank is giving up his whole life to come here. Sage never once considered the idea, not even when she told me how much she missed me. My necessary change in career didn't give her any reasons to come with me.

She might have if you were playing hockey instead of rugby.

I clear my throat, forcing away that ridiculous thought. Why do I keep going back to hockey when football is just as popular and a sport that I actually played? Maybe because Sage didn't read many football romances despite football players clearly being her type. There was something about hockey—and the sort of guy often portrayed in those books—that really did it for her …

"Anyway," I say roughly, "that's about all there is to show you. We play games most weekends. Half here, half on the road. You'll probably end up traveling with the team." Another cost we can't afford.

"What position do you play?"

Oh good, she wants to make conversation now. The guys have gotten back into running drills, and I should probably be out on the field with them. But I have a feeling Moxie wants me to keep Carissa occupied until I can hand her off to Tamlin again, and he looks like he's thoroughly enjoying his conversation. I narrow my eyes as I watch him. He's not just talking. He's very clearly flirting, and Tamlin is flirting right back.

I grit my teeth. "Scrum-half."

"That's a position?"

Turning my eyes back to Carissa, I raise an eyebrow and take her in again. She looks like she would be more at home in a shopping mall than on a pitch, and I have to wonder how she became connected with someone like Tamlin Park, who not only knows her sports inside and out but also probably played something, based on her build.

Holding back a sigh, I try to channel my inner Bonnie and pretend I can make friends with anyone. Liam is even friendlier, but I don't think anyone can match my musician friend's level of amicability. He's a golden retriever in human form. Bonnie is simply kind.

Kind has not come easily for me lately, but I need to try. If I don't, somehow Freya will find out I was rude to a woman, and I'll never hear the end of it. Freya of Candora may look like a gentle princess, but she can be terrifying.

I force a smile. "Yeah, it's a position. I'm guessing you're new to rugby?"

Carissa shrugs. "The only sport I've watched is baseball, and that's because my sister played."

"Do you mean softball? "

"That too, but she liked baseball better, which was fine by me because guys are more fun to look at."

I hate almost everything she just said. "Well," I say slowly, "there are fifteen players in the type of rugby we play. Eight forwards, seven backs."

"Is that kind of like soccer?"

Oh, I do not have the patience for this. If Moxie is flirting instead of talking shop, I can probably drop off my charge and get back to practice. "Not really," I mutter and start walking, praying she follows so I don't have to force her to come with me.

She keeps up fairly well, though she's in a light jog instead of walking. "That's what it looked like, anyway. When I looked it up online. It's like a mix of soccer and football."

"It's like rugby," I grumble. "Look, I should get back to practice, but I'm sure one of the other guys would be happy to explain it to you." A little too happy, but that's not my problem. None of these guys would do anything bad to her, but she'll have to learn how to deal with them on her own unless she wants them drooling over her all day, every day.

If she's anything like Sage, she probably does want that.

When we reach Moxie and Tamlin, I clap Moxie on the back and shoot him a look that says he needs to be done. "We're playing the Warriors on Saturday," I remind him. "And we have work to do."

"Right." His voice is full of disappointment, but he's smart enough to know he's our best chance at another win with Coach off in the wind. "Tamlin, it was nice to talk to you." I wonder if he means that, though I don't plan on sticking around to find out. I don't talk to reporters, so it'll be better if I head back to—

"Hey, Evanson." Tamlin's voice pulls me to a sudden halt, though I wish it didn't. "Any chance of a chat?"

I look back at her and study her amused expression. This is only my second season of pro rugby, and so far I've managed to avoid any interviews since joining the Thunder. But Tamlin has been the most persistent, reaching out every couple of months in the hopes of getting an exclusive. I talked to her once when I was playing for the Badgers, and though we lost the Super Bowl that night, she chose to talk to me after the game rather than to the quarterback from the winning team. She seems to think there's a story to tell now as well.

There's not, but I would still rather not talk to her. "There's nothing to chat about," I say, trying to keep my frustration out of my voice.

Tamlin's smile shifts, turning dangerous. "You and I both know that isn't true, Cole. A prime athlete like you doesn't leave a game at the height of his career to play a sport that doesn't have nearly the same popularity just for kicks. Everyone wants to know why you made the switch."

Everyone can shove it . That's what I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut until the anger eases. Maybe Moxie was on to something when he suggested cooling off. "Everyone thinks I was angry that the Badgers lost," I say with a shrug.

Tamlin tilts her head to one side, her blue eyes piercing in the sunlight. "Anyone who saw the way you played knows better. You gave it everything you had, but the other team was simply better."

I hate that her response almost brings a smile out of me. My sudden departure from football has been a hot topic for the last two years, and I kind of love how the mystery of my decision drives everyone nuts. Folding my arms, I take a step closer and tilt my head to match her. "You seem to figure out everyone's secrets, Park. Are you telling me you haven't discovered mine?"

She laughs. "Not yet, though I have my theories."

"Which are?"

"Your friendships, for one. Though, you could have tried to get traded to one of the NFL teams here and gotten the same result, so I don' t think that's it."

"Are you sure?" I ask, taking another step. "Because everyone knows how close I am to my friends."

Tamlin purses her lips. "It's a strange grouping you have, Evanson. How did you even find each other? An actor, a rockstar, a princess, and Derek Riley?"

A gasp pulls my attention to the side, where Carissa has been standing, though I'd blocked her from my notice. Impressive, given the way she stands out like a highlighter. "You're friends with Derek Riley ?"

Moxie laughs. "Have fun with that," he mutters and jogs out onto the pitch, leaving me on my own with two vastly different women with equal talents at getting on my nerves.

I turn to Tamlin first. "You can theorize all you want, Park, but my reasons are my own. Unless you're here to talk about the game and not me, I'm done talking to you." I look at Carissa now, who has stars in her eyes. She's already met Bonnie; Derek is also an actor and shouldn't be any more exciting. "You may be working with the Thunder, Paxton, but you and I are not friends. So don't bother asking. I won't introduce you to Derek. Or Liam Connolly. Or Bonnie, for that matter. If she wants to talk to you again, she can make that happen." My voice has gotten rougher as I've gone along, which means I'm probably getting ruder by the second, so I need to end this conversation and get back to my life. "Welcome to the Thunder," I grumble and turn, heading onto the field without looking back.

That's a lie. I do look back, but I wait long enough that I'm sure Tamlin and Carissa are on their way out. Tamlin leaves as confidently as she came in, but Carissa looks smaller than she already is, her shoulders hunched and her head down.

I curse under my breath. I just know that is going to bite me in the butt.