Page 7

Chapter 7

JAMIE

T he team bus pulls up to our San Diego hotel just as the sun is setting. Even though it's late September, the air is warm and the sky is slowly turning a deep velvety blue, with the stars just beginning to peek out. But even with the gorgeous surroundings, my gut is churning. It's our first road trip of the preseason, and my nerves aren't from the game—I can handle a preseason game without nerves. No, the swarm of butterflies in my tummy is because tonight I'll be sleeping only a couple of feet away from Rylan.

Charlie spent the ride from the airport rambling on about the restaurant in Little Italy he picked for the team dinner, but I barely registered a word, because I was way too focused on our captain, sitting a few rows ahead of us.

He spent the whole flight poring over his game notes like he was prepping for the SATs. He set up a workstation Martha Stewart would be proud of: about seventeen different highlighters with color-coordinated post-it notes, and everything arranged in perfect right-angles to each other.

Honestly, it was kind of impressive. Almost as impressive as discovering just how far the Sasquatch ownership goes to make sure we’re comfortable. The team's jet is in a totally different ballpark from what I'm used to from the Jaguars. It's outfitted with plush leather seats that fully recline, perfect for actually getting a decent rest. They also turn into legit workstations if you need to focus, and there are sections with seats clustered around tables, so we can play cards or whatever. It was most definitely not a bad surprise.

The hotel lobby feels too warm as we file in for check-in. Veterans check in and pick up their keys first, but since my roommate happens to be the captain, I don't have to wait with the younger guys. Rylan steps toward me, holding out my key card, his posture military-straight."Here."He shoves it at me without meeting my eyes.

"Thanks, Cap."I make sure our fingers don't brush, but the air between us seems charged anyway.

Austin's watching us with his jaw clenched. His eyes narrow before his expression shutters.

"Bets on which roommate pair will end up in a pillow fight first?"Charlie pipes up."My money's on Tremblay and Sinclair!"

A few chuckles ripple through the group. I raise my arms and do a stupid little dance as Rylan and I walk away."Later, suckas! The Cap and I will just have ourselves a nice nap while y'all are waiting in line for your keys!"I taunt.

A few guys snort at my antics, and a couple of others flip me the bird, so I'm laughing when Rylan and I step onto the elevator. We take our places in opposite corners, but for some reason, it feels impossibly, ridiculously small in here."What floor?"I ask.

"Twelve,"he replies with a tight smile.

I hit the button and the silence stretches between us. Then, for some unexplained reason, the elevator glides smoothly to a stop. Halfway between the sixth and seventh floors.

"Hmm. Well, shit,"he murmurs."This is weird."

He makes a move toward the emergency phone thing in the corner just as the lights flicker.

Oh, fuck .

My entire body jumps into high alert . Getting trapped in an elevator ranks right at the top of my list of terrifying things.

My pulse thunders in my chest, my heart rate ramping up. I suck in a sharp breath and Rylan's scent hits me. It's something crisp and woodsy. Reminds me of cedar trees.

Jesus, why am I focusing on how he smells right now? Probably because it's intoxicating. It makes me want to tear his clothes off right here in this tiny metal box.

Okay, so I might be panicking just a little. Are the walls closing in on us? Shit.

Then, with no warning, we start moving again, heading toward the 12th floor like nothing happened.

Rylan blows out a long breath.

Moments later we reach our floor without any more delays, although my heart's still racing.

"Are you okay?"He asks, looking at me suspiciously."You look pale."

I swallow hard."Yeah, I'm okay. Not a big fan of being trapped in the elevator."

Once in our room, Rylan starts unpacking right away, placing everything in his bag neatly into drawers and closets. I dump my stuff onto the other bed, deliberately letting my jacket fall half off the edge.

"You could use a hanger,"he says, voice carefully neutral.

"Could,"I agree, watching him try not to cringe as I kick off my shoes in different directions."But I'm traumatized. I need to meditate or something."

I'm joking, but now that I said it, it doesn't sound like a bad idea.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then heads for the door."I'm going to grab some ice."

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, I collapse onto my bed, running my hands through my hair. All I can think about is how good he smells, and how much I want to mess up his perfect composure.

It's probably just the adrenaline rush from our close call in the elevator, but I feel a little unhinged right now.

Fuck. This is going to be harder than I thought.