Page 5 of Personal Foul (The San Diego Storm #3)

Carson

S everal days before Colin arrived, I approached learning about my new teammate with the same intensity and attention to detail I used to prepare for a game.

I dug deep and investigated him as if he were applying for a top-secret government job.

And I was right to be concerned. He was a cocky, short-tempered, game-changing hothead.

Article after article touted his unmatched athletic ability, yet this time, rather than a fine and suspension for a few games, the league suspended him for an entire year.

He wasn’t the only player fined for a crushing tackle or dangerous contact.

Whatever he’d done for them to suspend him for an entire season, it must have been worse.

With every reel, video clip, news article, and meme, it was clear Coach’s intuition was right.

I could objectively see how Kearney would make an excellent secondary player if we could deflate his ego.

American football was a complex, rule-driven game of finesse, and Colin’s normal style of play would fuck up our system. And that pissed me the hell off.

Three days before we were to leave for Arizona, I charged into baggage claim, fired up after my early morning conversation with Jayse. It replayed in my mind, no matter how much I tried to end the negative thoughts.

“He’s a goddamn bruiser with a hideous reputation for violence. All the papers say he’s outta control, and that’s why the league gave him the boot. And don’t get me started on the rumors.”

“Fuck,” I’d groaned. “Like what?”

“Barney, a teammate from back home, said he heard from his cousin that Kearney told the press he was only coming here to play until his lawsuit against the league was settled and they were forced to bring him back. Said American football was for pussies, not real men who could take a pounding. And if that weren’t enough shade, he said he was just gonna lay back, show up the Yanks, and prove why rugby players are better athletes. ”

Then he paused before throwing gas on the fire.

“I’m warning you now, Carson. This bastard is gonna try to take your job. You wait. The first time something happens, he’ll slip in and take your position as captain away. That’s how cutthroat he is.”

By the time I parked at the airport, I was tempted to turn around and go home. Logically, I knew there was no way Coach had forgone a thorough background check. Mr. Carlisle and the coaching staff wouldn’t sacrifice our team for one international player, would they?

I needed to get myself under control before I embarrassed everyone. It had probably been a bad idea to talk to Jayse about the guy who was replacing him this season, but all information was good information.

Flipping on the AC, I sat and took deep breaths while cold air pelted me in the face. Inhaling measured breaths, my racing heart and anger ebbed enough for me to go inside. Losing my composure in baggage claim would create a PR nightmare.

Grabbing the sign with his name on it, I got out and trudged inside.

After checking the arrivals board for his flight from LA, I headed to the stairs and stood back against the wall to wait. Tucking the sign under my arm, I attempted to kill time by opening my email and cleaning out my inbox.

As I deleted and saved multiple correspondences, Jayse’s words filtered back into my mind. Irritation flared in my gut as I fought with my curiosity about Colin’s behavior, accompanied by my repulsion for him as a human.

But deep down, I knew I was wrong. So. Very. Wrong.

The increased volume of conversations and rolling suitcases filled the lobby as passengers rode down and exited the escalator.

Scanning the first wave, I spotted his head above the rest.

Colin smiled as he spoke with a lady close to him, absently raking his fingers through his artfully mussed dark hair. I observed him as he laughed at something she said, wondering what might have caused that reaction. The sooner I figured him out, the better off we would all be.

Unfortunately, before I could tear my eyes away, he searched the crowd, then his eyes landed on me.

Heat bloomed in my gut as he pinned me in place with his stare.

For the first time in my life, I understood what being undressed with someone’s eyes meant.

And without my permission, my anger went to war with my attraction and lost ground.

This was a fucking disaster. I refused to be attracted to the one person who was out to get me. I was going to pack away the insta-lust and keep telling myself he was after my job.

But until I could do that, we sized up one another as he rode to the bottom. His gaze remained fixed on me, making the heat move from my core up to my neck. My only reprieve from this irrational reaction came when I got a good look at what he was wearing.

Colin Kearney, rugby god and bad boy full-back, appeared to have just crawled out of bed, clad in athletic shorts, a T-shirt, and… dress shoes? But not just any T-shirt. Oh no. It was the official merch from our fucking conference rival. And that was enough to douse the flames.

I frowned as he approached in the most ridiculous ensemble. Personal style was one thing, but this was beyond laughable. And it didn’t take him long to figure out I was laughing at him.

Stopping mere inches away, he raised an eyebrow and unceremoniously dropped something to the floor. The sound caught my attention, prompting me to look down at an airport gift shop bag stuffed with a wadded-up jacket.

I snorted, then ran my eyes up his body to the cat carrier slung across his body like Crocodile Dundee, bringing his catch with him.

“St. James,” he exhaled, thrusting his hand at me. “Colin Kearney.”

My eyes lingered over his face a beat too long.

“I know exactly who you are,” I replied, clasping his hand.

He glared as if I were the asshole. “As you should. But I had to search you up. Took me a while to find a photo of you. The press doesn’t like you, huh? You’re not very popular, are you?”

I pulled my hand away and crossed my arms over my chest. “If you mean I don’t live to create a scandal, then yes, they don’t like me. That would be your department.”

Some emotion I couldn’t place crossed his face, but I didn’t linger to figure it out. Instead, I gestured to the carrier. “What’s that?”

He rolled his eyes, then leered at me like I was thick. “A cat. Didn’t you learn what that was in nursery school? They go meow.”

I scowled. “I know what a fucking cat is, asshole. I just didn’t know you were bringing one. I’m not a hotel.”

He glanced down at the black cat with green eyes curled up in the oversized carrier. It was a beautiful animal.

“Sorry,” he chirped. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to submit a packing list to my warden.”

Colin mirrored my stance with a clenched jaw and heat burning in his eyes. But he didn’t drop my gaze as we stood closer than we should, glaring at one another.

“You gotta problem with cats, mate?”

I leaned in closer so he could hear me. “No. Just pussies. Sound familiar?”

It took a moment for my words to register in my head. But Colin hadn’t missed them, and evidently, he misunderstood what I meant. I should have said felines.

His tense jaw loosened as the side of his mouth ticked up into a smile. My eyes focused on his lips as all the blood in my brain decided to retreat.

Colin pressed his index finger on my chin as his eyes smoldered. “I don’t like pussies either.”

Okay, he definitely misunderstood what I meant.

I swiped at his finger and scowled. “That’s not what… It’s what you…”

“Is everything okay, gentlemen?”

My stunted speech ended abruptly as my attention snapped to the security guard standing wide-eyed, watching us argue. As his eyes widened and recognition set in, he smiled up at me.

“You’re Carson St. James,” he said happily, before glancing at Colin. “But I don’t know you.”

I took a step back and smiled. “Yes, sir, I am. But he’s nobody important. Check out his shirt.”

I pointed my thumb toward the logo as I extended my hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Carl. Carl Morgan.”

The security guard glanced warily at Colin, who rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I had to buy something at the last minute. A bloke ruined my clothes in Los Angeles. I didn’t know the sheep were the enemy. You don’t have to be so pissy about it.”

“Rams,” Carl and I said in unison.

I glanced at the bag sitting at his feet, all of it beginning to make sense. Motioning toward the bag, I snickered. “Is that why you’re in such a bad mood and smell like coffee?”

“I’m not in a bad mood. Well, maybe I am now. But yes, that’s why. Some bloody wanker tackled me with his fru-fru coffee drink right before boarding.”

I smirked, wanting to say that’s how karma worked, but I didn’t.

We’d already caught the attention of security, and people were standing around with cellphones out, no doubt filming all of this.

The last thing I needed was to end up on social media making a spectacle at the airport. He was probably used to it.

So I smiled and tried to recall media training on handling a crisis. Instances like these were why they put us through it.

“I’m sorry that happened. I bet the drink was expensive.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “That had to suck.”

Colin’s face contorted, “It wasn’t my drink. I didn’t pay for it.”

Glancing at the guard, I extended my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Carl. I hope you’ll come out and see us play. We’re going to go grab his things and go. My special friend here needs a shower.”

After one last glance at my moody new teammate, Carl nodded. “Good luck this season. Mr. St. James. We’ll be rooting for you.”

Colin snorted as Carl walked off. “Rooted. As if…”

When the security guard was out of earshot, I glared at the striking fucker in front of me. Tipping my head forward, I covered my mouth as I stepped closer.

“Ever heard of media training? People have already recognized me, and we’ve got cameras on us, dipshit.”