Page 35 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

ISABELLA

I push open the door to the coach’s office, the familiar smell of stale coffee hitting me immediately.

Dad’s sitting at his desk, flipping through some papers. He looks up when I step in, a grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite daughter,” he teases.

I roll my eyes, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “I’m your only daughter.”

He waves me off. “Same difference. Bringing me lunch again, or just stopping by to see if I’m still alive?”

I chuckle, swinging the brown paper bag onto his desk. “You’re lucky I am. If Mom had her way, you’d be eating steamed vegetables and quinoa every day.”

Dad groans loudly as he grabs the sandwich I bought for him. “Love your mom, but I need some fucking meat.” He takes a bite, chewing with a look of pure relief on his face.

I sit down across from him, and he devours his sandwich, gulping it down.

“How’s school going?” he asks, before taking another bite. “Keeping up with everything?”

I shrug, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, it’s fine. Boring. You know how it is.” I make a face, because I know he knows exactly what I mean.

“You having a good time working with me at the rink?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

I smile, my lips curving without even thinking about it. “You know I love it.”

Dad’s face softens a little, his eyes lighting up. “Love to hear it,” he says, then leans back in his chair, studying me carefully. “I thought for sure one of the guys would try something with you, but it looks like they’re keeping their heads straight, huh?”

My pulse kicks up, but I plaster on a smile. “They know better than to mess with Coach’s daughter.”

Dad laughs. “Good. I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about that.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, then shoots me a look. “But if anyone even thinks about it…” He raises a brow.

I snort. “You gonna bench the entire team?”

He grins. “Don’t tempt me.”

I keep smiling, but inside, I’m spiraling. Because someone already has thought about it. Touched. Kissed. Definitely done more than that.

I push the thought down, burying it under about a hundred layers of denial. Because if he finds out about Ryan? Game over. I don’t even know for who—me, Ryan, both of us, the team?

“You know I’ve gotta protect my little girl,” Dad says, still smiling.

Before I can respond, a knock interrupts. I turn my head seeing Nathan at the door, Ryan close behind. My pulse skips when my eyes meet Ryan’s, and that familiar smirk on his face is enough to make my stomach flip.

I force myself to look away, pinning my bottom lip between my teeth.

It’s been days since the whole sneaking-out mess, and God, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him until now. Every time I think about it, I feel this strange tug in my chest, this longing I didn’t sign up for. We haven’t had the chance to see each other since then, and it’s driving me crazy.

“Hey, Dad, you got your car keys? I left my hoodie in the backseat last night, and it’s freezing in the rink,” Nathan says.

Dad sighs, already digging into his pocket. “You’re worse than me at losing shit.” He tosses the keys over, shaking his head. “First, though, I want to get your guys’ opinion on something.”

Nathan catches the keys. “Alright, shoot.”

Dad leans back in his chair, glancing between us. “What would you guys say if I gave Isabella a little more responsibility and let her work on the next set of plays for the game against Westbrook?”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “Wait, you want me to—what? Seriously?”

He gives a little shrug. “You’ve been showing me more than enough in practice. I think you’re ready for it.”

A rush of excitement floods my chest, quickly followed by a wave of nerves that makes my stomach tighten. “I—uh, I don’t know. That’s a lot of pressure.”

Nathan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You think too much. Dad’s right, Izz. You’ll nail it.”

Ryan nods, lips curling into a smile. “I know you’ll kill it,” he adds.

I glance between the two of them. Their confidence is almost overwhelming. It feels nice to hear, but…

I bite my lip, the nerves gnawing at me. I’m not sure I’m as ready as they think. A part of me wants to rise to the challenge. Another part is terrified of failing and disappointing them.

“What if I mess it up?” I ask, the doubt creeping through.

Dad shrugs. “Hey, that’s part of the game. But I have a feeling you won’t. And if something goes wrong, it’s not just on you. We work together and try again.”

I let his words sink in, but my stomach churns.

“What do you say?” Dad asks again, raising his eyebrows. “Do you want to make us proud?”

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves. Maybe I can do this. I think I can. It’s a good chance to prove everyone wrong—especially the ones who still think women don’t belong in sports.

“I’m in,” I say, blowing out a breath.

Dad flashes me a proud smile. “You’re gonna do great, princess.” He pushes off the desk, standing. “C’mon, I need to grab the tablet anyway.”

He and Nathan leave, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Ryan and me alone. The silence stretches between us, and for a few seconds, neither of us moves.

I’m not sure who makes the first move—maybe it’s me, stepping closer to him, or maybe it’s him, reaching for me—but before I know it, our lips meet.

It’s fast, a little messy, and exactly what we both need. When we finally pull apart, Ryan’s forehead rests against mine, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. His eyes are half-lidded, and the sight makes my stomach flutter.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he murmurs, and I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” I tease, though I’m not exactly complaining.

Ryan shrugs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t even know if I care anymore.”

I laugh softly, letting my hands move up around his neck, pulling him in closer. “You say that now, but you won’t when you’re getting your ass kicked by my dad.”

Ryan groans, his hands sliding down to my hips, pulling me even closer. “Being with you is fucking dangerous.” His voice turns low, dark. “And so fucking hot.”

I don’t even bother trying to fight it. His lips find mine again, and I get lost in him. My fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, making sure he knows I’m not going anywhere.

When we finally pull apart, my heart’s still racing, and I’m still buzzing from the kiss. But there’s still that nagging doubt lingering in the back of my mind.

“You really think I can do it?” The words come out a little shakier than I’d like. “The Westbrook game?”

Ryan meets my eyes, and his expression softens. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe in you, Bels.” His grip tightens on my hips. “I’ve seen you at practice. Austin’s been playing a lot better than before. I am too, and that’s all because of you.”

I feel a little spark of pride, but it doesn’t totally quiet the voice in my head. The one that says this might all blow up in my face. “You guys are the only ones who think so,” I mutter, exhaling hard.

Ryan’s expression shifts. His jaw tightens, brows pulling together. “Did someone say something to you? Give me names. I’ll handle it.”

A scoff escapes me as I shake my head. “That isn’t necessary. I can handle them myself. I don’t need my fuck buddy fighting my battles for me.”

Ryan’s eyebrow quirks, and a smirk tugs at his lips. “Is that what I am?”

I hum, leaning in until our lips are inches away. “Would you prefer ‘booty call’?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he murmurs, his hand drifting down to my waist, pulling me a little closer. “Call me your fuck buddy. Call me your booty call. Call me in the middle of the night. Call me yours?—”

His mouth crashes into mine before he can finish, the word swallowed by the kiss. A moan slips from my lips, and he swallows it greedily, groaning as his tongue traces the seam of my mouth. I open for him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

The kiss steals the breath from my lungs. It makes my pulse hammer, my blood burn, my?—

Footsteps.

We freeze.

The footsteps get closer. Louder. Too loud.

Shit.

I stumble back, nearly tripping over my own feet as Ryan jerks away, his hands already halfway in his pockets, face flushed. My pulse is a wild, erratic mess. The heat of his mouth is still on mine when?—

The door swings open.

Dad steps in. Nathan follows right behind him. Both of them stop, their eyes flicking between us. “You’re still here?” he asks Ryan.

Ryan freezes for a split second. He clears his throat. “Uh, well, she wanted to go over some things with me before I head out. Practice stuff. For next week’s game.”

Dad gives Ryan a brief nod, buying the excuse without a second thought. “Alright, we’ll go over that now,” he says, walking into the office and settling into his chair. “We’ve got a lot to do before next week’s game.”

“Let’s go, man,” Nathan says, standing by the door. “Austin’s probably hoarding the showers by now.”

Ryan nods and looks at me one last time before following Nathan out of the room. The door clicks shut behind them, and I’m left standing there, my heart still racing from the close call.

We can’t keep doing this—sneaking around, dodging close calls, pretending like this thing between us doesn’t have disaster written all over it.

But when he looks at me like that, when he kisses me like I’m the only thing he wants in the world?

Stopping doesn’t feel like an option.

It feels impossible.