Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(7)

When she returned, she handed me a ten-pound dumbbell.

“I want you to think about keeping your chest lifted, elbow balanced on that knee as you rotate your shoulder open and closed,” she said, demonstrating with her own arm. “Move nice and slow.”

I bit back the urge to tell her I’d done these exercises so much I could perform them in my sleep — mostly because this was the first time she’d ever talked to me, and if she thought she was bossing me around and showing me something new, I’d let her think it.

“New England in the fall must be a lot different from where you lived down south, huh?”

No response.

“Alabama, right?”

When she didn’t reply, I kept on.

“I grew up in the south, too. Florida. Moved here with my uncles when I was a kid.” I smiled, despite the mixed emotions that went with that move. “I miss the beach, but I don’t miss that heat.”

A flat-lipped blink of acknowledgement was all I got from Julep.

I probably should have shut up then. If it were any other trainer, I likely would have.

But I couldn’t stop myself.

“How’s it been so far?” I asked after a moment. “With the training staff, I mean.”

“Fine,” she clipped. “Alright, let’s move on to pendulum swings.”

I stood, balancing my left hand on a table for stability before I began swinging my right arm side to side. “Do you feel like you’re learning a lot?”

“Loads.”

“What made you want to go into sports medicine?”

She sighed, clipboard hitting her thigh before she leveled me with a stern look. “This isn’t an interview, Moore. It’s rehab. Focus.”

I smirked. “Could be both, if we tried our hand at multi-tasking.”

Julep ignored me, walking me through the next set of exercises while I watched her curiously and tried to see under the hard exterior she wore so easily. There was nothing even close to a smile on her dusty-colored lips, just sharp concentration on every move I made and the checklist in front of her.

JB came over to check on us, making a few remarks before he was gone again. When he left, I tried poking the bear once more.

“You and your dad must be close, huh?”

Julep stilled, pausing only a second before she pointed at the medicine ball on the ground. I knew without her saying another word that she wanted me to do chest passes against the wall.

“Something like that,” was all she responded with as I launched into the first set.

“Got any tips?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your old man seems to have it out for me,” I answered.

I thought I saw the corner of her lips lift, and it was stupid how much encouragement that slight movement gave me.

“He doesn’t like anyone who questions his authority.”

“So, I should just bend over and take whatever he wants to give me, eh?”

“Your words, not mine,” she remarked, and for the first time since I’d met her, her eyes danced with a bit of amusement.

I smiled, which seemed to pull her back to the moment, because with a clearing of her throat, her eyes were on the clipboard again.

“I saw you gardening,” she said after a moment.

“And I saw you,” I replied. “Stalking me.”

The most unattractive snort of a laugh left her then, and she accented that noise with a roll of her eyes before she gave me the signal to stop with the medicine ball. I hung it between my forearm and hip, arching a brow at her.

“Don’t act like you weren’t.”

“I was unpacking and happened to look out my window,” she countered. “Not my fault you were shirtless playing in the dirt.”

“I was pulling weeds,” I corrected. “Sorry if my abs were distracting.”

Another roll of those beautiful eyes.

“Should I wear a shirt from now on?”

“Do whatever you want,” she said, and then she checked the time on her watch and pointed to the ball for me to start again.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you about the Snake Pit,” I said as I tossed the ball. “But we’re kind of an open house. If you ever need a night out or anything.”

Julep gave me a look that told me I was a fool for even suggesting.

I shrugged. “Everyone needs to cut loose sometimes.”

“Did you not heed my dad’s warning?”

Her question struck any humor in our conversation down like a lightning strike, and I caught the medicine ball before turning to face her.

“I’m off limits.”

“I’m just talking to you. I’m not allowed to talk to you?”

“You’re flirting with me. There’s a difference.”

“Someone’s full of themself.”

Her little mouth popped open, brows furrowing as she took a step into my space. That one step narrowed all my attention to her slight frame, her bust, her lips as she pursed them and folded her arms over her chest.

“It’s never going to happen, QB.”

“Hey, I’m just as off limits as you are,” I quipped back, testing that delicate space between us. “So maybe you should take a step back and avoid looking out your window if me being shirtless is a temptation.”