Page 4 of Racing Heat (The Forbidden Heat #2)

Chapter Four

~JASE~

It’s a travel day for the team. Thankfully, we have a late flight and don’t have to be at the airport until almost one.

This means I can get in a run with Cassie before we’re off.

Normally, when the alarm would go off, I would lie there snoozing for at least fifteen minutes before getting out of bed.

But now, I’m rising out of bed as soon as the alarm sounds.

Running doesn’t feel like punishment anymore, not like it did when I played.

It feels like the best part of my day. Well, seeing Cassie is the best part of my day.

It’s definitely against the rules for us to be dating.

Mac and Danny got lucky. Cassie and I would not be so lucky, and August wouldn’t be so forgiving either.

She would lose her job, and I’m sure I would be the on first plane back to Manchester.

So, for now, all I have are the moments we spend running together.

When I arrive at the boardwalk, I park in my normal spot and wait for her to arrive. It’s become a routine. Whoever arrives first waits for the other. We get out of our cars together and stretch. Once we’re both ready to go, we’re off.

I wait anxiously for the yellow Jeep to come into view, my heart beating faster in anticipation of seeing her.

There isn’t a measurement for the level of screwed that I am when it comes to this woman.

The sad thing is, I’m not even sure she feels the same way that I do.

And I’m also not sure it’s worth finding out.

The sting of knowing that she wants me too but there’s nothing we can do about it might be more than I can take.

Her yellow Jeep comes into view, and the sight brightens my day the same way she does. I get out of my car and bounce on my heels as I wait for her to come over and join me for stretching.

“Morning,” Cassie says when she joins me in the middle of the road. It’s a dead end, so we won’t be overrun by cars. And this early in the morning, there isn’t really much beach traffic down here. In the distance, the morning yoga class is assembling by the water.

“Morning,” I reply. “There’s still time to join that yoga class, in case you would rather do that instead of going on this run.”

She giggles, and I wish I could come up with some witty thing to say to keep her laughing and keep hearing that sweet sound.

“Yoga isn’t for me. I would much rather run.”

“I thought you said something about enjoying rage yoga?” I tease her.

“Yoga is too slow. I need something faster, something more hardcore. Like running.”

We run in silence for a while and then she speaks.

“How long were you married?”

My head snaps in her direction. “How did you know I was married? Did you Google me?”

She shakes her head as we round a small corner and continue along the wooden walk. “No, I didn’t. Andie mentioned it to me when I was at the trainer’s office getting my regular checkup.”

The trainer has the girls come down so that he can evaluate them for aches and pains they may or may not be telling the coaches or trainers about.

Another thing that the Cromwell’s do that isn’t standard.

When I was a player, we only went to the trainer if we were injured or not feeling well.

But the Cromwell’s want to make sure each athlete is in tip-top shape, so off to the trainers they go.

“She mentioned something about it coming up in conversation with Coach Watts when he was talking about his twin’s birthday,” she rambles on. “I was just curious. I hadn’t realized that you had been married before. You don’t strike me as the type.”

I slow my run and stop. Cassie doesn’t realize it at first and has to walk back to me once she discovers I’m no longer running beside her.

“What? Should I not have asked the question?”

I sigh. “No, it’s not that. I’m just trying to understand why you think I’m not the type who would be married. What about me says I’m anti-marriage?”

“I don’t know. I just figured if you were ever married, you still would be,” she says with a shrug.

“Uh-huh,” I say. “And what made Andie tell you about that?”

Cassie winces. “I’m sorry she violated your trust.” She starts walking our route and I follow along with her.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind so much that she told you, just that you didn’t think I was marriage material.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” She bumps my shoulder.

I’m not sure why this bothers me so much, but it does.

Most of the women I’ve met here in Tampa are excited by me.

My light brown hair, brown eyes, and tall muscular form have always bided well for me when it comes to the ladies.

Especially with my accent. I once had a woman here in the US ask me if I could record myself reading her favorite romance book.

She told me she would do anything to hear the sound of my voice while I read an over three-hundred-page book.

I knew my accent would be a favorite in the US based on stereotypes alone, but I never thought I gave off the vibe of not being marriage material.

We walk in silence for a while. The only sounds are the seagulls above, the waves crashing, and the occasional runner coming up and saying, “On your left.”

“Okay, what’s going through your head over there?” Cassie finally asks me. “You’re stewing and I can practically hear it.”

“I’m not stewing. I’m just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

I sigh. “Just remembering everything.”

“The marriage or the divorce?”

“I guess both,” I tell her.

“Can I ask you what happened? What caused you to get a divorce?”

“It’s not really as dramatic as you would think,” I tell her. “No one cheated. There was no secret lover affair or hidden babies. Just two people who realized we shouldn’t be together.”

“Were you young when you got married?”

“We were.”

“Before or after the injury?”

I chuckle. “I guess you want the whole story, huh?”

“Well, you could tell me, or I could just get the story out of you piece by piece.”

“Were you a journalism major?” I ask her.

It’s her turn to laugh at me. “Poli-sci.”

“What are you hoping to do with that?”

“Nothing, really. I’m hoping I’ll play soccer and then do something in the coaching or announcing world.”

“So, your degree is worthless then, huh?”

“Kind of. My parents weren’t too happy about it, but they’ll deal.”

“Are they the same amount of unsupportive as Mac’s?” I ask, and she looks over at me, her brow marred in confusion. “Danny told me about it.”

“You guys are worse than girls sometimes,” she tells me with a laugh.

“Give Danny enough alcohol and he’ll just ramble.”

“I see. I’ll have to remember that. Might come in handy sometime.” She turns to me and says, “You don’t have to tell me. I can tell you’re stalling.”

I sigh. “I’m not stalling. It’s just a story that’s not particularly interesting.

We got married when we were young. I had just signed with Manchester.

I traveled a bit for the team, so we didn’t see each other much.

We tried to make the best of it when we did, but I could tell that we both preferred it when I was on the road. I know I did.”

“Charming,” she says, her tone full of distaste.

“We got married too young and too fast. And then I got injured. She took really good care of me. I was in a lot of rehab, so her help was desperately needed. But the other thing we discovered was with me not playing soccer, I wasn’t the person she wanted.

We just didn’t have enough in common. The passion we once felt for each other was gone.

I preferred to be gone; she preferred me gone.

So, we split. It was amicable, or at least as amicable as two people can be when they can no longer stand to be with each other. ”

“You didn’t try to make it work?”

“Sure, I think so. We gave it, as you Americans would say, the old college try. But it just wasn’t worth it in the end.”

“What did she do for work?”

“She’s a schoolteacher. And no, she didn’t enjoy coming to my games. She didn’t like sports.”

“Then why in the hell did you marry her?” she exclaims, drawing the attention of people passing us.

“We enjoyed shagging,” I tell her with a shrug.

She laughs and shakes her head. “And you wonder why I think you’re not marriage material.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” I say more to myself. We walk in silence for a bit longer and I ask her, “Do you want to go back to running?”

The part of the run where we turn around and head back has already passed. We’re almost back to the cars. I can see her bright yellow Jeep in the distance, where my black Audi just blends in with the rest.

“Nah, this is nice.” She looks over at me and smiles.

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to say you’re not marriage material.

After all, I don’t really know you. But you don’t do much to help me or anyone else get to know you.

Don’t you notice that when we’re out with everyone, you’re the most quiet and reserved? ”

“Well, I always figure I’ll let August have the attention or let you ladies do all the talking. I like to listen.”

“But what if we all prefer your voice?” she asks me.

“It’s the accent,” I remind her. “If I didn’t have it, you wouldn’t care too much to hear me talk.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. I think it’s nice when you open up and talk to us. I like learning more about you.”

“Even if I’m not marriage material?” I tease her.

“You are never going to let me live that one down, are you?”

I shake my head. “No, probably not.”

“I’m pretty sure I can find a way to wear you down.” We both stop and stare at each other. “Ugh, I’m not looking forward to the flight.”

“Do you not enjoy flying?” I ask her, happy that she pivoted us onto much safer topics.

“No, it’s just the whole process of getting there, getting checked in, flying to San Francisco, and playing in an away game that’s so tiresome. I like home games. I have a very rigid routine before home games.”

I nod. I get it. I had a ritual for every home game too.

I think most elite athletes do, but I don’t tell her that.

Instead, I say, “Away games were always my favorite—all of the time I got to spend with my team. The bonding was nice, and we would go out and chase some tail. It was a good time. Don’t you girls do anything like that? ”

Cassie laughs. “We go out, but you see us when we’re out. There’s not much chasing tail. Plus, we’re far from home. Why bother starting something?”

I pull her into a side hug. “It’s not like we were looking for relationships out of those meetings. But it’s cute that that’s where you took it.”

“I can’t believe my parents hope I find a man someday, if this is how they think,” she replies.

“I’m sure not all of them think like me, just most,” I tease.

“Sure, that’s one way of looking at it.” Her nose scrunches and her blue eyes dance with amusement.

I laugh and let her go. “It’s been fun. Thanks for the run.” I turn and head to my car, thoughts of her saying that I’m not marriage material still filling my head. It bothers me so much more than it should.