Below the Belt(76)

“Me,” Brad said in disbelief. “He doesn’t even like me.”

“This is exactly why we chose you to be one of the group leaders. They want to please you. Impress you. You’ve done something to earn his respect, enough that he’s starting to emulate you.” Coach laughed a little. “There are worse guys to pattern themselves after.”

“Uh, thank you.” I think?

“Just promise me there will be no more dumbass stunts like this again.”

“No, sir.”

“Later today, we’ll bring Cook in and talk about a game plan to deal with the knee. Make sure you give her the paperwork from the physical therapist and we’ll meet here after practice to discuss it.”

“Actually . . .” Brad cleared his throat. “Coach, I was hoping I could discuss it with her privately first. Given the, um, situation. I’d like to just have some time to talk it out. Could we meet before morning practice instead? Half an hour before warm-ups, maybe?”

Coach raised a brow at that, but smiled. At least, Brad thought it was a smile. The older man’s lips twitched upward for at least half a second. “Tomorrow morning is good enough.”

Brad stood and held out a hand. “I apologize for—”

“Just go play yoga,” Coach grumbled. As Brad hit the door, he swore he heard the Coach mutter, “Good luck with that, kid.”

He was going to need it.





CHAPTER


22


Marianne looked up at the knock on her door. Reagan entered, holding a manila folder. “Are your interns in here?”

“They’re out watching the guys.” She should be out there, as well. She told herself it was better to stay in and finish up the paperwork. She was lying.

“Perfect. I need you to sign this for me, then.” She slid a piece of paper out from her folder and handed it to Marianne. “It’s just a simple form explaining the relationship between yourself and Lieutenant Costa, as explained to your supervisor and the coach. It shows you were up-front about the situation and that you and he both agree it won’t affect your working relationship.”

Marianne snorted at that. When Reagan tilted her head in question, she shook hers. “Sorry. Allergies.”

“Hmm.” Reagan handed her a pen. “Just a signature, and then I’ll get Lieutenant Costa’s, and we should be all set. It’s a formality, simply a CYA thing.”

Too bad Marianne hadn’t thought to cover her own ass. Otherwise she might not have been in this position to begin with. How the hell did she sign this piece of paper now, knowing that very soon, her relationship would likely be done? “Can I just give this a look through later and give it to you tomorrow? I’ve got a lot of paperwork to finish up.”

“Oh.” Blinking in surprise—because really, who needed an entire day to read through three paragraphs—Reagan lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “All right. No problem. No rush, I’d just like to have it on file before we start traveling.” She started out, heels clicking over the linoleum, then turned back. “Have you had any more problems with the training room?”

“Problems . . . oh.” Marianne sat back in her chair, surprised. “No, not that I can think of. Why? Was there more vandalism upstairs?”

“No . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Reagan glanced toward the door.

“They’re not coming back in here. I told them to stand guard,” Marianne assured her.

“We received some threatening mail at the main office.” Reagan sat down in the chair Levi normally occupied and crossed her legs daintily. “Nothing too serious—nothing to call the bomb squad over. But it was enough to spook me. Nobody else seems to think it’s a big deal.”

Marianne knew there was something to a woman’s gut feeling. But Reagan was younger, in her first job out of college. It could have been as simple as being unsure of herself and not wanting to disregard any potential problem, even when there wasn’t one. “Did whoever sent them take responsibility for the vandalism here?”

“No, not in so many words.” Chewing on her lip a little, Reagan switched her legs and drummed her fingers on top of the desk for a moment. The perfect manicure wouldn’t hold up to that kind of beating for long. “I just don’t want any problems.”

Sorry, sweetheart. I’m about to dump a breakup in your lap by morning. “Understandable. I’m sure if the higher-ups aren’t worried, it’s probably nothing.”

“Maybe.” Sounding unconvinced, Reagan stood. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Marianne hummed something noncommittal and looked at the sheet in her hand. With a sigh, she let it fall to the bottom of her stack of paperwork. She’d end up handing it back, blank, in the morning.

Kara popped her head in to wave good-bye, but otherwise Marianne’s afternoon sailed on relatively uninterrupted. She managed to get nearly caught up on paperwork to the point where she wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving it to a new trainer. When the Marines started filing in for ice bags, heating pads and help cutting tape off wrists, she put her problems aside and dealt with them, as well as her interns.

She’d end up dealing with Brad soon enough.


*

BRAD hung around the gym as long as he could stand, hoping to be the last guy in the training room. He needed to talk to her in her own space. For some reason, the conversation didn’t feel right for her apartment. As if the temporary domestic bliss they’d experienced in her home wouldn’t be able to stand the news he was about to drop on her.