Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(14)

There’s a lot of pressure when we first come back and try to get our legs under us. After a few months off, trades and new contracts, we’re a fresh group, rusty and a bit unused to each other. There’s a hold-your-breath phase when we pick up preseason training, a sense of pivotal importance. If we can’t get synched up and confident before the season starts, we’re likely in for a string of draws and losses until we find our rhythm.

Because soccer, more than any other game, is a collective effort, a truly collaborative game. The more attuned we are to each other, the more comfortable and connected, the better our play will be. We can field eleven elite athletes, but we’ll get our butts handed to us by less-skilled players if that team plays cohesively and we don’t. Soccer is as much of a team sport as you can get, and its victories rely on unity.

Which seems to be something Gavin’s forgotten. Because he’s huffing and stomping like a raging bull right now, yelling at the guys for minor mistakes, playing way harder than necessary when we’re just scrimmaging each other and getting back into the groove.

I glance at Coach, who stands on the sidelines, her gaze critical, razor-focused. Rico and Jas stand beside her in identical postures. Jas’s black hair is pulled back, revealing their shaved undercut, late afternoon sunlight bouncing off their polarized lenses and dark brown skin as they frown at the field. Rico frowns, too, arms bearing golden skin and colorful tattoos folded across his chest.

“Coach,” I mutter between gulps of water from the sidelines.

“Hmm?” She narrows her eyes on Ben, who sprawls after Santi fakes him out and cuts toward the goal.

“You, uh, gonna tell Hayes to simmer down before he breaks something?”

“Or someone,” Rico mutters.

Santi rips a shot low in the corner of the net, one that Amobi had no chance of saving, and dances in celebration across the field in rhythm to the music. Gavin glowers death at Ben.

Jas clears their throat, then says, “I concur, Coach. Hayes is in the danger zone.”

I lift my water bottle to them in salute. “Thank you.”

“Bergman,” Coach says.

I glance her way. “Yes, Coach.”

“How about I coach and you play?”

Ouch.

I exchange glances with Rico and Jas, but they’re unwaveringly faithful to her. They nod in agreement, trusting Coach to handle this however she’s planning to.

On a groan, I drop my water bottle and jog back out onto the field.

“Get your fucking ass up, Benjamin,” Gavin yells at Ben, who’s still sitting on the ground, head hung, after Santi beat him. “You forget which team you’re on today?” he barks.

Ben sighs as he stands.

I clap him encouragingly on the shoulder as I jog by. “Shake it off, B. Next time, you’ll get it.”

“Ollie!” Santi dances my way, smiling wide. “Bailemos!”

I laugh and dance toward him, mirroring his movements, until we high-five. Gavin’s eyes narrow at me, his jaw tightening furiously.

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged my existence since our hallway collision right before I delivered coffee to our trainers. He was MIA when I turned around after giving Maria and Dan their drinks, ready to head to my next stop.

Which was probably for the best.

Actually, definitely for the best.

Because on our little stroll down the hallway leading up to that delivery, I was a tad, well, very, distracted. I couldn’t shake the full-body flush of heat that hit me in the car when Gavin looked me dead in the eye and said the word “cock.”

For the first time, I worried I’d given myself away.

The fact is, while I think he has the personality of a rusty freezer, I can’t deny that Gavin’s hot as hell. Thankfully, I’ve found that his crappy attitude toward everything helps me suppress the crush I’ve harbored since my teen years, long before I knew him.

Freya grew up lusting after David Beckham. I grew up lusting after Gavin Hayes. As a horny teen discovering his sexuality, I stroked off so many times to the mental image of what I’d seen on his televised games. Thick, chiseled thighs, the memory of his broad bare chest after ripping off his shirt in victory—dusted with dark hair that swirls around his nipples, then slides down his stomach, past his waistband, leading to a thick heavy outline in his shorts.

It’s helped, how much of a jerk he is. It’s made it much easier to stick firmly to the promise I made myself years ago: lust, sex, romance—none of that is going to infiltrate my professional life ever again.

But in the car? That resolve simply…melted away. It was just me and Gavin and his growly voice saying “cock” and the sound of it waving through my bones like a low-level earthquake.

And then I felt him looking at me as I strolled down the hallway. After two years of the evil glares he throws me when he thinks I’m not looking, I’ve learned what it feels like to have Gavin’s eyes on me.

And they were right on my ass.

Which, you know, is understandable. I have a great butt. He’s got eyes in his head, and they were naturally drawn to the pleasing view in front of him. But it felt like sunlight warming my skin on a cool day, like a hot trail of slow kisses down my spine, hands gripping my hips, tugging me back against—

Yep. No. That’s where I can’t let my mind wander again. Because that’s how I got carried away with daydreaming and nearly walked right past the trainer’s room.