Page 25 of Let You Love Me

My daughter is off-limits, gentlemen. No dating, no flirting, no nonsense. I won’t have you harassing her or giving her a hard time. And I also won’t have you distracted.

Fuck. He might as well have strung caution tape around her and nailed a stop sign to her forehead while he was at it.

Seriously, what the hell?

I stare at her, my gaze unwavering as I try to come to terms with this new piece of information.

If she was embarrassed by his impromptu speech, she gives no indication of it. If anything, she looks resigned as she stares into the sea of men around me with zero emotion.

I swallow as my gaze shifts, taking in her long legs and toned arms. She’s wearing a pair of tight biker shorts and a tank top that showcases a small sliver of her midriff. She looks so fucking good, I want to eat her up while simultaneously shielding her from the probing eyes around me.

When my hungry gaze finishes its perusal and I return to her face, our eyes lock, and based on her cool stare, I’d guess she’s not too happy to see me.

Did I imagine the chemistry between us?

When she glances away from me, I smother the disappointment churning in my guts.

Fuck me.

If Coach doesn’t want any of the guys hitting on her, then maybe he should consider getting her one of those floral muumuus like my granny wears because what she has on isnotsending the message that she’s off-limits. If anything, it makes me contemplate throwing caution to the wind and completely ignoring everything Coach has just said.

Under any other circumstances, I might not heed his warning, I might pursue her anyway, but I’m on thin ice as it is after the hazing stunt over the weekend. The monstrous ache already blooming in my muscles is proof of that. I can’t even imagine what he’d say if he found out I already had her number in my phone and several unanswered texts.

Hell, he’d probably have my balls in a vise grip and accuse me of harassment.

“Lane doesn’t officially start until Wednesday,” Coach continues, “In the meantime, Nichols will be staying after practice to help Mark with cleaning the gear.”

I peel my eyes away from her and nod.

Fucking awesome.

“Now that we have that settled, let’s get on with practice, shall we? We’ve wasted enough time for one day.” Coach motions forthe assistants to take the field and start us on drills while I try not to dwell on the girl talking to the equipment manager on the sidelines.

Practice lasts forever. Or at least that’s what it feels like after the tire flips and two hours of busting my ass on drills.

By the time we finish, my muscles are wasted and I’m dog tired. Knowing I’m not finished only sours my mood.

“Nichols!” Mark, the equipment manager, calls out and when I glance his way, I find him still talking to Lane. “Take a minute to hydrate, then you’re with me.”

I nod. “Yes, sir,” I grumble.

Frozen in place, I watch in a trance, unable to tear my eyes away from her as she hands him a packet of papers, then turns to leave.

I act on instinct, taking a step toward her. “Hey, Lane, wait up!” I call out.

Yep, that’s right. After Coach’s speech, I follow her off the field.

I’m either a glutton for punishment or just fucking stupid.

She didn’t answer your texts, asshole. Clearly, she’s uninterested.

Stupid it is.

“Lane, wait!” I call out one more time, praying Coach is otherwise occupied so I don’t have to deal with his scrutiny and risk pissing him off any more than I already have.

He didn’t say we couldn’t talk to her, just that we can’t pursue her.

Finally hearing me, Lane spins around, her face a mask of indifference. “What do you want, Teagan?”