Chapter 20

: Brandon

I ’d be lying if I said my first reaction wasn’t to laugh. I mean, it doesn’t matter who it is, wiping out on a treadmill is fuckin’ funny. ClikClak is full of viral videos that confirm my viewpoint.

This time it’s not funny though. She hit pretty hard, and her head bounced off the treadmill. I spring forward, pulling the stop key as Andi slides off to the floor. She’s still for a moment too long, and terror fills me.

I rush to her, scooping her into my arms to get her to a safe location.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down.”

“I’m bringing you out to the couch so I can assess you.”

“Are you secretly a doctor? An EMT? In any other way, shape, or form qualified to do anything to my body in a medical sense?”

Obviously, Andi didn’t hurt her mouth.

Gingerly I set her down, and she simultaneously shakes her head and rubs her knee.

“No, but I’ve been evaluated for concussions enough times to know what to do. Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital. I’m fine.”

She doesn’t look fine. She looks shook up. I tell her as much. I try to look at her pupils. I’m not sure what I’m looking for. They look large in the middle of her ice-blue eyes, but otherwise normal.

She rests her head against the back of the couch, cupping her face in her hands. She has angry red scratches on her elbow and on both her knees. “I could use some ice.”

I jump up and head to the kitchen. My freezer is stocked with ice packs of all shapes and sizes. “For what part?”

There’s silence for a moment. “Um, my whole body?”

I close the door without grabbing one. “Hang on, be right back. Don’t fall asleep.”

I dash out the side door to where my chiller is nestled under the side eave of the house. I’d planned on using it after Andi left, so I’d already put several frozen 2-liter water bottles in it to lower the temperature. I take the cover off and check the temp. Fifty-five degrees. Not bad for July.

I head back into the house. Andi’s still on the couch. Her color looks okay. She’s still awake. Her scraped arms and legs aren’t bleeding. She doesn’t look like anything’s broken.

“Give me your phone.” I stick my hand out.

“No. Why?”

“Trust me.”

“The last thing I do is trust you.” She hands me the phone as she says this. I kneel down in front of her and take off her sneakers. Then I scoop her up once more and carry her out the side door.

She must be hurt because she doesn’t scream or yell or pound me into oblivion, like I expect her to do. I look at her face to see her watching me with curiosity.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing with you?”

Andi shakes her head ever so slightly. “I’d fight you if I had the strength. I feel like shit. That really hurt. And it’s going to be worse in the morning. Are you just going to deposit my body in my car and roll it into the lake? It might solve a lot of problems for me. Actually, that might be the best solution at this point.”

I smile. “I hadn’t thought of it, but I’ll keep that idea on retainer. It’s usually what I do with all the referees who kick me out of games.”

She sighs. “It feels like USSLRA is always hiring. Now I know why.”

I can’t believe she can make a joke at a time like this. I have a feeling she’s not going to be laughing when I put her in a vat of ice water. Her eyes grow wide as she spies the ice bath. Her grip tightens on me.

It looks like a cross between a miniature jacuzzi and an oversized cooler that you’d see full of beers in a convenience store. “It’s a little bit of an eyesore, but it gets the job done.” I look into her blue eyes. They’re bright, staring back at me. It feels as if she’s staring into my soul. Why have I never seen her look at me like this before? Maybe because there’s usually fire pouring out of them. “You ready?”

She nods slightly, and I take that as my cue to lower her in. I feel her tense as her body hits the frigid water. She’s submerged to about mid-chest when I hear her swear.

I start to pull her back up a little. “What’s wrong?”

She lifts up her arms, scooping her hair up so it doesn’t get wet. “I washed it today and actually dried it. It’s a good hair day. I don’t want it to get wet.”

That’s what she’s worried about?

Without much thought, I extract my hands from around her, pull my favorite red patterned hair tie out of my pocket, and hand it to her. It’s one of my favorites, but I don’t care. Andi takes it, securing her hair in a loose bun on the top of her head. She still has her earbuds in. I reach forward, gently plucking them from her ears so they don’t fall in. As I do, my right hand grazes the side of her jaw.

I freeze, her skin soft under my touch. I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to be soft. Maybe because she’s tough as nails and as physically fit as any professional athlete.

Shaken, I take a step back. “You’ll only need a few minutes. Let me go get some towels. I’ll be right back.” I start to walk away. “Don’t drown while I’m gone.”

Just inside the door, I stop and let out my breath. I need to put some distance between us if only to calm the boner that’s suddenly made an appearance. What the hell? This is Andi Nichols. Andrew . She’s the ball-busting referee who may have started the end of my career.

As I grab some towels, I try to remember everything I hate about this woman. It’s not her who’s turning me on. It’s just that under all that muscle, she’s still a woman.

I’m having a natural reaction to an attractive member of the opposite sex. I’ve been in a dry spell, and my dick is reminding me of that. I grab the fluffy white robe hanging on the back of my door and make my way down to her.

“Your lips are blue.” Her teeth are chattering. “How do you feel?”

“Cold.” Andi grips the side of the tub and hauls herself to a standing position. I try not to notice how her green shirt clings to her body, revealing a sports bra underneath that does nothing to camouflage her hard nipples. Or how the water sluices down her muscular thighs.

Fuck.

A thousand comments run through my head, starting with “I can see that.” Instead, I look away, holding a towel out to her. She grabs it and then reaches for the robe that’s draped over my forearm.

When she’s finally decent, I turn my gaze back to her. I’m glad she’s covered up, but somehow, draped in my robe, her hair haphazardly piled on her head, secured with my hair tie, might be worse.

This is how I imagine she’d look after a night spent tangled in my sheets.

“My head hurts,” she says as she secures the sash around her waist. “Got any ibuprofen?”

“Follow me.” I nod toward the house, happy to have something else to focus on. We go back into my kitchen. Her teeth are still chattering. She’s never going to warm up in those clothes.

“Hang on, let me get you something to change into. We can throw your clothes in the dryer.”

I mutter, cursing myself all the way up to my room. This is going from bad to worse. She needs to leave. As soon as she does, I’ll whack off and never think of Andi Nichols in a sexual way again. This is simply a biological reaction and nothing else. Any living, breathing man would have the same response.

I am so not attracted to this woman.

I get her the bottle of Advil, grab a T-shirt and some shorts I don’t wear anymore because they’re too tight in the thighs. I bring them downstairs and put them on the bathroom counter for her. She follows me in, not leaving enough space in between our bodies. At this point, an entire soccer field wouldn’t be enough space.

“You’re all set in here. I’ll get you some water for the Advil.” I shimmy around her and close the door behind me.

I swear this woman is cursed. Everything about her spells disaster for me.