Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(5)

“I called a slant,” he said.

This time, he arched a brow, which told me he wanted a response.

“Defense shuffled, sir, and the new formation made the slant impossible. I called out the coverage and—”

“Impossible?” Coach Lee cut me off, stepping right up into my chest. I kept my gaze fixed on the players running a drill down the field behind him as he peered up at me. “Is that what you’re going to say when you pull that shit in a game and cost us a first down?”

I frowned. “Sir, Lock caught—”

“I don’t give a flying horse’s ass what Lock did, he wasn’t supposed to have action in that play at all.”

“Coach, with all due respect, we got the first. We got the first and more.”

Coach Lee shook his head, watching me like he was slowly figuring me out.

Like he didn’t like what he saw when he did.

“I understand you’ve been operating as a leader on this team for years, Moore, and I like that. It’s important.” He got even closer, his coffee breath finding my nose as he continued. “But you’re the Captain, and I’m the General. You report to me. You obey my orders. Understood?”

I swallowed down my annoyance, my longing for Coach Sanders and the way he ran things. Maybe I’d just gotten too comfortable. Maybe I was spoiled with a coach who I also felt like was a friend.

Or maybe Coach Lee was just a class A sonofabitch.

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“Good.” Coach Lee nodded, stepping back with his eyes on his clipboard. “Burpees. All of you.”

There was a stifled, collective groan before someone yelled out, “How many?”

“You stop when I say stop,” was all Coach answered, and then he was in conversation with our Defensive End Coordinator.

My jaw tightened as I yanked off my helmet and dropped down for my first burpee, not giving in to the temptation to look at the other players who I knew were watching my every move. They waited for me to give them the look that I was annoyed, that I thought Coach Lee was being harsher than necessary and calling bullshit punishment drills just to be a dick.

But I kept my gaze either on the turf where I dropped or across the field when I jumped, getting my reps in without a hint of emotion. I had to set the tone, and the last thing our team needed was any rift between us and our new coach. He was just trying to assert dominance, to garner the respect he felt he needed to run the team.

It wouldn’t be like this for long.

That’s what I told myself each time my hands hit the ground, even as my chest burned and my legs ached and Coach Lee looked on like he forgot we were doing burpees at all. But eventually, all the pain numbed, my head cleared, and I fell into a rhythm.

Jump at the top, hands up, hands down, jump back, pushup, hop feet back to hands, right back into the explosion up to my feet and repeat. Over and over, I ran the drill, gaze distant and out of focus.

Until Julep Lee came into view.

Her long, sleek, brown hair was up in a high ponytail, swinging slightly side to side as she followed on the heels of the athletic trainer in front of her. She held fast to her clipboard, making notes as a silent study until the trainer would point to a player and Julep would take over. I watched in-between burpees as she gently maneuvered the knee of one of our rookies, firing off questions that I could recite since I’d been asked them a multitude of times over my career.

Does this hurt? How about this? Scale of one to ten, what’s the pain level? What kind of pain do you feel, sharp, dull, pins and needles? Can you bend it, straighten it, apply pressure?

My eyes kept her as my new focus each time I popped back up, and I strained to find any emotion in those endlessly dark brown eyes. But she was the picture of poised indifference.

Or perhaps she was numb, too.

I’d done my best to avoid her since the first day she walked through the locker room doors in spring training. She was the coach’s daughter, and therefore off limits in every conceivable way. As if I didn’t already know that, Coach had been sure to remind us every chance he had — if he caught someone watching her for too long or overheard a joke in the showers.

It wasn’t difficult to follow his orders — at least, not for me. Football outweighed everything in my life. So, when I came to my senses and realized even flirting with the thought of being friends with her could put my career in danger, I’d boxed up any fantasy I’d had about the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl and shelved them high enough that I couldn’t reach for them in moments of weaknesses.

And seeing her every day in tight athleisure with sweat beading at the small of her back proved I would face many of those moments.

So I stayed focused, stayed centered, and reminded myself of the one and only goal that mattered to me: going pro at the end of this season.

But now, I not only had to fight to keep my eyes off Julep at the stadium, but at home, too.

Because she was also my new neighbor.

Coach Lee blowing his whistle brought me back to the present in a whoosh, and only when I stopped moving did I register how much pain my body was in, how hard I was breathing, how badly my chest ached with the strain I’d put on it. The rest of the boys collapsed onto the field, and I just barely stayed upright with my hands braced on my knees.

The rest of the team circled up around us, gathering from where they’d been running their own version of hellish drills. They didn’t seem envious as they joined us around Coach, and Riley hung an arm off Clay’s shoulders as Zeke came up on my opposite side.