Below the Belt(26)

She saw Gregory Higgs standing at the door, a cocky smile on his face, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb.

Oh my God. How long had he been there?

“You ready to go, roomie?” he asked with a drawl she hadn’t heard before. When Brad flipped him off, his smile only grew. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt a training session. I can come back if you’ve—”

“Bite me,” Brad muttered, then picked up his bag and hefted it over his shoulder before pushing past Higgs on his way out the door. No good-bye, no “Sorry about that” or “See ya later, Marianne” or “Sorry we got interrupted, I’ll come back and finish this later.”

Bad Marianne.

With her face feeling like it was on fire, she surveyed Higgs. “Did you need something, Marine?”

He watched her for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “Nah. It’s cool.” He waited until she was looking straight at him before he said again, “It’s cool.”

Hoping that was his way of saying he would mind his own business, she nodded in gratitude. “Thank you.”

With a wave, he pushed off and disappeared.

Marianne sank onto a chair and fanned at her face, then picked up the discarded ice bag Brad had dropped and rested it against her throat for a moment.

That had resolved exactly nothing.

But it had been a whole lot of fun.

Bad Marianne.





CHAPTER


8


Brad pulled the door shut on Higgs’ car and waited for the blow.

But his roommate put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot without a word.

After two minutes of silence, they pulled up to a red light. Lunch traffic around Mainside was always ugly, and he knew they’d wait through at least two red lights before they were moving again.

Higgs seemed content to fiddle with the radio.

Brad cracked first. “Nothing was going on.”

Higgs looked at him, then back at the light. “Okay.” He inched forward as the light turned green and cars attempted to move. They made it halfway to the intersection before it went red again.

“I mean it. Nothing happened.”

“Okay.”

“Damn it,” he said with a groan. His head hit the back of the seat and he fisted his hands. “This, on top of all the other shit we have going on.”

“This what? Nothing happened,” Higgs said easily, then chuckled when Brad shot him an evil glare. “Come on, man. So you’ve got a boner for the cute trainer. She seems okay. If nothing actually happened, then just stop going in there when she’s alone and you’ll be fine. She’s usually got those two college kids around anyway. And if you hadn’t noticed, people are starting to break down and go in there to get taped up. She’s not going to have a lot of downtime to play sexy games like Chase Around the Table with you, anyway.”

Brad groaned again and wiped a hand down his face.

“Besides, you’ve got someone else, so stick with her.” When he glanced at Brad, he raised a brow. “The other one, the woman you went on a date with. Take her out again. Get your mind off Cook.” Brad made a strangled sound and Higgs snorted. “What, did the other chick dump you already?”

“No,” he said, trying hard not to clench his jaw.

“So then . . . oh.” Higgs whistled through his teeth. “Oooooh.”

No, the man wasn’t slow.

“Just shut up about it. Nothing happened.” Nothing much. “I don’t want her to get fired for some bullshit excuse.”

“Nobody’s getting fired. Unwad the boxer briefs, Costa.” Taking a turn easily, Higgs sighed. “I’m not saying anything, except to be careful. You’re a big boy, and I’m your roommate, not your mommy.”

“Damn right.”

“But she’s nice. Don’t be a dick about it.”

Famous last words, Brad thought as they rolled into the BOQ parking lot. He’d already invited her out to dinner once under false pretenses. She thought he’d asked to be a decent person and make nice. He’d asked to keep her from bugging him about his knee.

He still worried she might say something, might insist on checking him out and then might insist on telling the coach. He couldn’t let that happen.

But what the hell did he do with Marianne Cook?


*

“GO back to the part where he pushed you against the wall and ravished you in a storage locker.” Kara Smith waved the hand not holding her wineglass in circles. “And then rewind and tell me again. Rewind and tell me again. Rewind and—”

“I get the point, but there’s nothing to rewind.” Laughing, Marianne topped off her own glass and eased back into the comfortable sofa. Unlike her own sparsely furnished apartment, Kara’s modest three-bedroom house was homey and comfortable. It felt lived in, without the stuffy feeling some places got when they’d been overdecorated with a bunch of impersonal stuff the owner bought because it looked good. Kara only brought things into her home if they meant something to her or were functional. The furniture was easy to sit on and the tables were full of knickknacks and clutter, as well as adorable finds from local stores.

The house was much like the woman herself. Kara was beautiful, but comfortable with it. Her auburn hair, which Marianne happened to know could fall in rich waves nearly down to her butt, was pulled up in a messy bun. She usually wore her clothes with meticulous attention to detail, but was now wearing sweats with dried paint on the cuffs. And her face was free of makeup.