Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps #1)(15)

Dad?

A laugh jumped out of my mouth, surprising me.

I’m waiting. I was pissed at myself for not playing up the daddy thing, but after I’d just imagined fucking him, I needed to get my head on straight.

Oh, it’s someone boring…hm…Ramsey? I was really far off. You wouldn’t make the top twenty on my faves list.

Somehow, I didn’t believe that. Liar. Hurry up.

Then stop texting me!

I chuckled, leaning against the building.

Hammond, one of our defensive linemen, showed up next. “What’s up, Rams?”

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” We bumped fists.

“You ready to do this? Kick ass, whip the rooks into shape.”

One rookie, specifically, was on my list, but I didn’t tell Hammond that. “You know it.”

“This whole Baby McRae thing… Is it me, or is that kind of fucked up? I mean, after losing Houston.”

I shrugged. “We needed a wide receiver, and he is one, a damn good one too. That’s all that matters. They stand on their own.” That was something I needed to stress to the team. We teased and talked shit to each other—that was part of being teammates—but comparing Garrett to Houston wasn’t going to benefit any of us.

“I got’chu, Cap.”

“That was last season.” Some teams chose a new captain each week and some by the year. The Rush went by season.

“I’m sure it’ll be this year too. See you in there.”

Hammond walked in just as—

“Jesus fucking Christ, a goddamned Aston Martin?” I said as if Garrett could hear me. Because I knew it had to be him. A lot of guys did it—got their paycheck and bought a badass car—so I couldn’t talk too much shit, but of course he had to be as flashy as fucking possible.

Sure enough, once the car was parked, a long-legged Garrett climbed out. He grabbed his bag from the back and headed my way, a pair of Aviators hiding his eyes.

His brown hair was wet as if he’d gotten straight out of the shower and headed over. He wore a pair of nylon shorts, his college tee, and a big-ass smile. “Aw, you came out to carry my shit for me?” He held his bag toward me, and I bit back my laughter.

“Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle or something.” I grabbed the handle of his bag, but Garrett didn’t let go.

“Oh fuck you.”

“I’m just sayin’, you probably need to conserve your energy for training camp. You’re finally out of the playpen and get to hang with the big boys. Might be too much for you. Don’t worry, I got your back.” Our fingers brushed, a snap of electricity shooting off between us. We both pulled back, and the bag dropped.

I adjusted the backward cap on my head, determined to ignore whatever the hell that had been. “Let’s head inside.”

Garrett’s strong hand wrapped around my bicep before I could head for the door. “Seriously, Ramsey, why’d you text? And wait for me?”

I shrugged. I should have been prepared for this question, but I didn’t know how to answer it because I had a feeling that even without Houston asking me to watch him, I’d be standing right where I was. “Don’t know really.” Which was true. “Guess you kinda feel like my little brother too.” Totally not true, though stepbrother porn was hot. I’d be down for some roleplay if he was.

His jaw tightened in a way I’d never seen in response to something I’d said to him. Clearly, he didn’t like it. “I don’t need another brother.”

“I thought we bonded during the draft? And the night you spent at my house?”

“If we had, you’d know that the last thing I want is for you to treat me like Houston does.”

Ah, hell. This was going to be a disaster. “Fine. Imightlikeyoualittle,” I rushed out.

Now he grinned that cocky, mischievous smile I’d gotten so used to. “Oh shit. Warner Ramsey is obsessed with me. I can’t take my brother’s best friend.”

“I said I like you a little. And would you look at that, I don’t anymore.”

“Liar.” He winked.

“Come on, Little Man. Let’s go inside.”

He hefted his bag up on his shoulder and followed me. I led him to the conference room where we were meeting. Most of the team was already there. Coach Baker was standing in front, talking to a couple of guys on the team and our defensive coach, Todd.

“Look! It’s one of the rookies!” Simmons, our starting cornerback, shouted.

“Been excited to meet me? I can give you an autograph if you want.” Garrett’s delivery was smooth as honey, like the whole thing had been planned out. A few guys laughed.

“He’s a cocky one,” Jarrick jumped in. “I could tell at the bar the other night.”

“Shouldn’t we get going before it’s time for McRae’s nap? Did he already get his bottle?” Nichols, another teammate, teased. Joking around with rookies was normal, but clearly it was going to happen more with Garrett because of Houston.

“I feel like you guys sat around figuring out how to greet me. I know it’s exciting having me on the roster, but I’m no better than the rest of you…okay, maybe a little better than the rest of you.”

“Ooooh! Rookie McRae got jokes!” I wasn’t sure who’d said that because everyone was laughing or talking shit. I clapped Garrett on the shoulder, not surprised he was already fitting in well.