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Chapter Twenty-One

C orie

I’m standing outside the locker room when Rowan walks up. “Hey, you. How are you settling in?” I ask.

“So far, so good.” She smiles. “What are you doing?” She glances around at the empty hallway that I’m lurking in.

“Oh, I’m waiting for the all-clear from the coach or whoever wants to tell me that I can enter the locker room. The last thing I want to see is my brother’s—yeah, never mind.” I shudder, and she laughs. “I have a charity thing for the guys and a favor for whoever wants to volunteer.”

“Will they volunteer?” she asks.

“My guess is yes, considering it’s either volunteering at the nursing home or going on a date with a supermodel. And I’ve heard some stories about their last trip to the nursing home.” I chuckle.

“Which one is the favor?” she asks. “And that sounds like a story I need to hear.”

“The model. Her agent called, and she needs a date for a fundraiser for underprivileged kids. He asked if any of my single players were interested, for publicity’s sake.

Apparently, she and her now-ex just called it quits, and she needs someone to escort her.

He thought it would be good PR for the team, and he’s not wrong. ”

“Huh,” she says. “I guess that’s one way to find a date.”

“Yep. And the nursing home. Let’s just say that Ms. Margaret had a thing for a few of the players. One in particular, she kept pinching his ass. So I’m pretty sure he’s going to be the one to volunteer for a night with a supermodel.” I grin.

Rowan is laughing, her entire body shaking, as my brother sticks his head out the door. “Cor—” he starts, eyes Rowan, and steps out into the hallway. “What are you ladies so giddy about?” he asks, strolling toward us, his eyes never leaving Rowan. “Landry Reynolds,” he says, offering her his hand.

“Rowan Mills, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Reynolds.” She shakes his hand.

“Just Landry,” he replies, releasing her hand.

“Rowan is an assistant physical therapist. Last week was her first official week with the team,” I tell my brother.

“Nice.” Landry bobs his head.

“Is it okay for me to go in?” I ask, nodding toward the locker room.

Landry pulls his gaze from Rowan. “What? Oh, yeah, that’s what I came out here to tell you.”

“Good. Come on. See ya later, Rowan,” I say, looping my arm through Landry’s and walking toward the double doors that lead to the locker room. “See something you like, big brother?” I tease.

“Hush it.” He laughs, trying to mess up my hair, before pulling open the door and motioning for me to enter.

“We’re actually in the meeting room, just down the hall.

” He points to the right, and I follow him.

Landry pushes open the door for us to enter, and it slams shut behind us, causing all eyes to turn our way.

“Hey.” I smile and wave. My eyes instantly find Knox, and my smile widens. I can’t help it where he’s concerned.

“Gentlemen.” Coach Warner commands the attention of the room. “You know Corie. She needs your attention and cooperation throughout the season, and I expect you to comply.” He looks at me and nods. “The floor is yours,” he says.

“Thank you, Coach Warner. Hi, everyone.”

“Baby Reynolds!” someone calls out, and I think it’s Reid, but there are a lot of faces staring at me right now, and I can’t be sure.

“Corie,” I correct with a smile.

“Let her talk,” Knox says from his seat in the front row. “Go on, Corie girl,” he says. His voice is soft, and if I notice it, others do, too, so I’m quick to move on.

“I’ll be quick. It’s time for our annual visit to the Caring Hands Nursing Home facility.

” Holly explained that this is the biggest care facility in Nashville and that it’s a tradition for the players to visit the residents once a year.

“I need four volunteers, minimum,” I tell them before rattling off the date.

“I’ll go.” Knox raises his hand.

“Kiss ass,” Landry mutters. “Fine, I’m in, too,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Beckett. I appreciate that. However, Mr. Beckett, I have a special request from the Make-A-Wish Foundation for you, so you’ll be excused from this.”

“Just let me know when and where,” Knox tells me.

I give him an appreciative smile. “I need at least three more for the nursing home. However, I have another small favor that one of you would possibly rather do.”

“What is it?” Landry asks.

“I received a phone call earlier today from Natasha Gillman’s agent.

She needs a plus one for the Lighthouse charity gala.

It’s an event to raise proceeds for underprivileged children.

It helps support after-school sports programs. The event isn’t until late November, but she’s going out of the country for a shoot and wants to have something lined up for when she gets back. ”

A player I don’t recognize whistles. “Natasha is a looker.”

“I’ll go!” Baker stands and raises his hand. “Done,” he says quickly.

Foster is sitting next to him and is barely containing his laughter. “We all know why,” he says, his head tilted back to the ceiling as his body shakes with hilarity.

“Enlighten me,” I tell them, even though Holly already filled me in.

“Don’t you want to go see your giirrrlllfrrriend?” Reid asks, pitching his voice.

“Not this year, boys. For three years straight, I’ve gotten mauled by that lady. No more. I’m off the hook. Reid, you better wear some thick pants.” He pinches the air. “Those talons of hers hurt like a bitch,” Baker grumbles.

“I’ll do it.” Reid looks to me for help, as if I’ll choose him over Baker.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery. Mr. Sinclair was the first to volunteer. It’s only fair,” I say, hiding my smile by biting the inside of my cheek. It’s weird addressing them so formally.

Reid mumbles under his breath while Baker takes his seat with a look of relief crossing his face. “Okay, I need two more,” I tell them. “I have Reid Montgomery and Landry Reynolds.”

“I’ll go, too,” Foster says, holding up his hand.

“I’ll go. Holly’s going to be there.” Cody Martin, a defensive back, raises his hand.

“She will be there. This will be Holly’s last official event as a Rampage employee.” She stopped coming into the office several weeks ago. She still checks in by phone and email, checking on me, but this event, she wanted to handle, and I was more than happy to let her take the reins.

“Are you going, too?” Landry asks.

“No. I’ll be assisting Mr. Beckett with his trip to the Children’s Hospital for his visit with”—I look down at the notes in my hand—“Asa Meeker.”

Landry nods.

“Thank you to the volunteers. I have handouts with all the information.” The guys stand and come to get their papers, and then I turn to Knox. “I wanted to check your schedule. I was hoping that one day after practice would work for you. The hospital said we can come anytime.”

“How’s today?” Knox asks.

I nod. “Let me call my contact and set it up.”

“Thanks, Corie girl,” he replies. He’s all stretched out in his seat, cool as a cucumber, but it’s his eyes that give him away.

He’s watching me like a man in the desert staring at water.

My pulse races, and I feel my cheeks start to heat, so I turn with the ruse of placing my phone to my ear for a quieter space in the corner as I walk away, but really, I just need to get away from him before I blow our cover.

It’s getting increasingly difficult every single day to avoid him. After confirming with Sherry from the children’s hospital that this afternoon will work, I make my way back to Knox. Thankfully, the room has started to clear out, so there are fewer eyes on us.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yes. Today at three. Does that work for you?”

“Yep. I’ll swing by and pick you up on the way,” he tells me.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can meet you there.”

“That’s pointless for us both to drive there. It makes more sense for us to drive together. Besides, you’ll still be here, and it’s on my way.”

I don’t know who’s listening, but I don’t want to make this a big deal. “Sure, that would be great. Thank you.”

He nods, and that’s my sign it’s time for me to get the hell out of here. “I need to get back to work.” I wave to those who are left and shuffle out the door.

It’s two-thirty. Time to shut down my computer and lock up my office.

I texted Knox and told him that I would meet him in the parking lot.

He wanted to come to my office to get me, but I put my foot down.

We gravitate toward one another when we’re together; the fewer people who see that, the better.

Pushing open the door and exiting into the employee and players’ parking lot, I find him standing next to the wall, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at his ankles. “There’s my girl.” He smiles, and damn if my knees don’t wobble.

“Ready to go, Mr. Beckett?” I ask, shoulders back, head held high, trying to remain professional.

“Just Knox,” he says, taking the tote bag of Rampage gear off my shoulder to lighten my load.

“Not here,” I counter as I walk past him toward his truck. At work, he has to be Mr. Beckett. I need a way to differentiate between my Knox and the quarterback of the Rampage.

He rushes to pull the door open for me and waits until I’m settled to close it. He’s quiet until he’s pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the children’s hospital. “Did I do something to piss you off?” he asks.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, I turn to look at him. His eyes are on the road, but his jaw is locked tight as if he’s ready for a fight. Reaching over the console, I place my hand on his thigh. “No, you didn’t piss me off. This is hard, Knox.”

“Why couldn’t I come upstairs to get you?”

“Because when you’re close to me, I gravitate toward you. The more time we spend together, the more difficult it becomes to hide what I feel for you.”

“And what’s that?” he asks, his voice gruff.

“I care about you. So much,” I add quickly. “It’s hard for me to be in the same room with you and hide that.”