Page 2 of The Playmaker (The Legends of Fire #1)

JAX

I pick up speed as the crowd goes wild. The turf beneath my cleats flies up in the air as I sprint, putting distance between the other team’s defensive players and me.

Our quarterback feigns a throw to Hawk, then arcs the football like a torpedo over to me.

Every yard I gain is a step closer to victory.

My legs stretch out as I cradle the ball under my arm. I feel my breaths coming in long, easy pants. That sexy little reporter may think all I do is fuck my way through the summer, but in reality I train every day. Football is my life. Well, football and raising my kid sister.

I finish the play, ball still successfully in hand. I’m known for my speed and dexterity, but really wide receivers have to be smart, too, just like the quarterbacks. Plays change in subtle ways based on what the other team is doing, and I have to be mentally sharp.

I bet the little bench warmer reporter doesn’t have that right about me, either. Probably thinks I’m just another jock.

My team gathers around me to celebrate the yards I gave us, and then we take a water break while the televised game goes to commercial .

Walking back with the hyped up guys who know we have all but won our first preseason game, my eyes scan the line of field-side reporters with their tripods and press badges.

I don’t know why it matters, but I want to know that snarky little honey blonde reporter saw my smooth moves just now.

I fight back disappointment when I don’t see her.

I do catch the red-lipped grin and predatory gaze of Giselle, a curvy dancer who pins her eyes on me any chance she gets.

“You’ve got a fan. Nine-o’clock,” Hawk laughs as he chest bumps my shoulder.

“Hell no.” I keep my eyes to myself. Cheerleaders sleeping with athletes is a huge breach of contract. Not worth it, no matter how easy Giselle has made herself to be.

“Oh, I guess smart mouthed reporters are more your style as of this morning.” He laughs again. “She was cute. What was her name? Amy?”

“Avery Monroe,” I correct him as I take a swig of my electrolyte drink.

He winks, still playing dumb, and I glare at him for baiting me like that. “Oh, that’s right. Avery.” He draws out her name as if it’s precious incense from the gods themselves.

“Knock it off, bro.” I scan the sidelines for a glimpse of Avery again.

“Damn, my man, you have it bad for her.”

I ignore him.

“Hey, if you wanna see her again so bad, you should tell the PR team to bring her on as one of our shadow reporters.” He waggles his brows at me as he wipes sweat off his forehead.

“Hawk. You’re on the next play,” Coach barks out. “Jax, bench this one.”

I nod, glad for a minute to get my head back in the game.

Hawk gives me a teasing look fueled by a little too much glee. “Yeah, enjoy that bench…maybe think of your reporter warming it with you…or on you. Your choice.”

I throw a towel at his retreating form. Why I had to pick such a jackass as my closest friend, I’ll never know. Wesley “Hawk” Hawthorne knows me better than just about anyone. And he knows my secrets.

“Dude, that catch was brutal, man!” one of the guys says to Hawk in the locker room.

He grins, eating it up. “I bet I jumped at least four feet for that one.”

When I joined this team he was the one who showed me how to hide behind bravado and ultra smooth charm to entertain the press and distract them from real life.

He goes out a lot and gives the press lots of sex-fueled gossip to write about rather than his real life or trying to find dirt from his past. It’s a good strategy because it works.

I’m no playboy, but I try to keep those rumors going too, just to protect Riley. They stay focused on my nonexistent conquests and Riley gets to live life under the radar.

The stupid rumors and “leaked” sightings of that cheerleader Giselle and me were all staged after the fact.

We were both at the same club, but just not there together.

I didn’t even speak to her that night. Apparently, she loved the attention of being in the media and has made it crystal clear that she’d love to do it again… for real next time.

Not happening. But the press was getting too interested in my personal life so they had to be distracted.

“My man,” a rookie says to me, his eyes bright. “That was a solid play you did. Gained us the yards to crush ‘em with Hawk in the next play.”

I fist bump the kid, talking shop about the game all while my eye is on the wall clock. I promised Riley I would take her to her ballet class tonight.

Coach gives us his requisite pep talk and then I shower, still hearing the guys talk about the game. It’s just the preseason but games like this give us the momentum we’ll need to start the season strong.

I soap up my body, feeling the hard planes of my lean muscles. In my own stall, I let my mind wander. It lands on her. The little bench warmer. That unapologetically authentic reporter.

Avery.

Women have no place in my life. I don’t trust them, and I have a sister to raise. But Avery is different. She didn’t want to seduce me or try to trick me into liking her. She was kinda rude, and more than a little self-confident.

I smirk as I remember the feel of her hard nipples pressed against me. She’s a firecracker, standing up to me like that.

I wish I could feel her press against me now with no watching eyes and no stiff suit jacket between us. Fuck, my cock starts to twitch thinking of her. This is not like me.

I turn around and let the spray of hot water wash down my shoulders. Those warm brown eyes of hers looking up at me without backing down do something to me. The heat of arousal makes me blood pound… straight to my member.

What the hell.

I imagine her on her knees looking up at me, taking my length into her mouth, those rosy lips of hers circling my girth, humming as swallows me in her mouth.

I can feel the softness of her hair as I grasp it, the way her hand holds onto my thigh for support.

My balls tighten as my own hand strokes my shaft.

She’s special. She’s got to be. No woman has made me look twice in years. Until her.

I can see those curves of hers baring before me, inch by inch. And then, I grunt as a wave of pleasure releases from me.

I’m left standing in the shower alone, lost in my fantasy of the one type of woman I should never under any circumstances allow near me: a journalist like her, hungry for a career breaking story.

Minutes later, my self-control back in place, I adjust the collar of my shirt, slinging my designer duffel bag over my shoulder.

“Peace, man,” Hawk says, fist bumping me. “I’ll see ya tomorrow at the gym.”

I nod once at him, then one of the young players calls out, “Bro, Carter. We’re going out for a drink. Come with?”

I can see it coming—another long season of excuses. I don’t “go out.” Not with my kid sister counting on me the way she does. No one on this team other than Coach and Hawk know about Riley. And I plan to keep it that way.

“Leave the old man alone. He’s earned a night of scotch and Wagyu made by his private chef in his penthouse,” Hawk exaggerates my lifestyle to get the guy off my back. “One day when you’re as old and rich as Jax here, you’ll do the same.”

Hawk thwacks me on my back and continues as I walk out, “I, on the other hand, am just man child enough to go out with you knuckleheads. Where to, boys?”

I chuckle as a ring of whoops and hollers fills the locker room. That’s Hawk for you—the dude always has my back.

“I’m literally old enough to order alcohol in England,” my sixteen-going-on-grounded-forever sister pouts.

She’s sitting with her arms crossed in the passenger seat of my Aston Martin. She’s been on my case to let her have a social media account. But I know what she doesn’t: the world is full of predators who would love to take advantage of her .

And not just old men, either, but fake friends who would use her to try to get to me, or long lost family who weren’t there for us when our parents died, or, worst of all, the media who would salivate at the chance to be the first to break the news that I have a secret little sister I’ve been hiding from them for the past decade of my career.

Yeah. Definitely not an option.

“Sorry, kiddo,” I say. “Not gonna happen.”

“You literally just want me to be a nun and live in your penthouse saying prayers and shunning the world, Jax!” she whines. “It is so not fair.”

I pretend to consider her words. “You know, Riles, that is not a bad idea. When would you like to take your vows?” I wink at her.

“Ugh! You are so annoying.” She turns to pout through the car’s side window.

“Don’t be like that, Riley.” My voice is softer now. “I know it feels like I’m hiding you, but I just want to keep you safe.”

“Right,” she mutters, having heard it all before. “I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t control me forever.”

Hearing her say that is like a knife to my heart. I love my sister more than anything.

Maybe one day she’ll understand.

“Hey,” I say as we pull up to the prestigious ballet studio’s side entrance, a top notch training school for girls where money buys you privacy and discretion.

I reach out and squeeze her arm. Reluctantly she looks at me with her green eyes that match mine.

“I love you, kiddo. I really do. Let me think about the social media thing, okay?”

Her face softens at that small ray of hope. She nods, gives me a hug, whispering, “Love you too, meanie butt.”

Then she grabs her bag and is out the door, leaving me to chuckle at her words. I’ve been called much worse in my day.

Bench warmer .

It comes unbidden to my mind. I shake it off. Reporters are dangerous. They are the exact type of people who could destroy the private and relatively normal life I’ve built for my sister.

I pull my car into the usual spot where I’ll wait for Riley’s class to finish and then take her home.

My phone rings. Hawk.

“Yo,” I say in a bored tone.

“Guess who I just saw on TV at this bar, man?” Hawk’s voice sounds quiet amidst the background noise of wherever he and the guys are.

“I couldn’t care less,” I retort. I need to get that reporter out of my head, already.

“Avery Monroe. Apparently, all the gossip outlets love that she tried to give you a hard time about Giselle.” He laughs. I don’t.

“Did you call about anything of value, Wesley?” I say grumpily, using his proper name.

“Yep. Just that half the guys here think she’s gorgeous. So, if you’re gonna make a move. Do it soon.”

“Not interested.” I feel irritated at him. “Anything else?”

“No. Oh, wait, yeah. Don’t whack me upside the head or anything, but I told Coach that Avery is exactly the type of honest reporting we need in a shadow journalist for the team.” With that, he hangs up.

I sit there with a sinking feeling in my gut that our PR team might just eat this up. A reporter who doesn’t kiss-up to athletes being assigned to follow them around for a few weeks?

“Shit.”

If they go for it, I know exactly who they would assign her to follow around. Me.