Game On (Game On 1)

He attempted to duck out into the corridor but I called him back. “What’s going on?”

“Not sure. He sounded pretty serious.”

Memories of my last few days flicked through my head like the highlight reel of a silent movie, as I searched for an event worthy of getting me into trouble. Nothing sprang to mind.

“Thanks Will. I’ll go and see him when I finish up here.”

Will gave me a reassuring smile before getting back to his duties, and I continued working on Jesse’s ankle.

By the time I was done, my panic levels had reached epic proportions. My palms were sweaty as I walked towards my boss’ office, something which never happened. Talking to Richard had only ever been pleasant and I wasn’t crazy about the idea of that changing.

Richard Bailey was a legend, highly regarded as one of the top U.S players of all time. In his youth, he played for the Westberg Warriors and as well as being a skilled goal scorer, he was once considered the hottie of the soccer world. Twenty-five years on his looks had faded a little. The stress of managing such a high profile team had aged him but he was still as fit, if not fitter than most of the guys he trained.

“Hi,” I said, peering into his office. “You wanted to see me.”

His head snapped up. “Leah, yes. Come in. Sorry to pull you away from work but I need to clear something up.”

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. “What’s the problem?”

“Radleigh McCoy has made a complaint about you.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. He made a complaint about me?

“Don’t worry too much,” Richard said. “I had to follow this up but I know how McCoy is. If people don’t bow down to him he thinks they’re disrespecting him. I just want to hear your side. He says you’re treating him differently than the other players. That you’ve been bad-mouthing him.”

Oh, in his filthy-minded dreams!

“Bad-mouthing him? Richard, with an ego that size, do you think he’d even notice an insult?”

I hadn’t intended to blurt out exactly what was on my mind without thinking, but Richard gave an almost undetectable smile. “You’ve got the measure of him then?”

“Damn right I have. He’s got a bee in his bonnet because I answered him back in front of Bryce Warren on Saturday. Aside from that, I’ve been nothing but professional with him. Geez, if anyone should be complaining, it’s me!”

“You have a complaint to make about McCoy?” Richard asked, halting my verbal diarrhoea.

The last thing I wanted was for Richard to think I couldn’t deal with him. After all, part of the reason he hired me was because I was ‘feisty.’ Richard had unknowingly given me the perfect opportunity to report McCoy for his endless come-ons but I had no intention of letting either of them think I couldn’t cope.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. He’s just been a bit … suggestive.”

“Leah, if he’s hassling you, you need to tell me because I take this kind of thing very seriously.”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted. “But if things change you’ll be the first to know.”

Especially since he’s been so petty.

“So what happens now?” I asked. “Do I get an official warning or something?”

Richard shook his head. “Nothing official. You don’t even deserve to be here now. However, if you could be extra nice to him for a few days you’d be doing me a huge favour. I can tell him I’ve had a word with you, and everyone’s happy.”

He was playing it fast and loose with his definition of happy. Being ‘extra nice’ to McCoy sounded more like a punishment than a prize but when the alternative was a black mark against my name, I had no choice but to take it.

I excused myself, taking a few deep breaths before heading out to the pitch. Freya’s comment about McCoy playing games echoed in the depths of my mind. Less than forty-eight hours ago, he’d attempted to call a truce, yet I’d just had my arse hauled into Richard’s office over something I hadn’t even done.

Well. Game on, McCoy. Game. On.

Most of the team were running laps, with the coaches keeping a close eye on them. I spotted McCoy almost immediately among the throng of players, and willed him to fall on his bum so I had a legitimate excuse to “accidentally” inflict some pain on him using the handy disguise of treatment. My wish was denied. He sped the length of the field without a stumble and his teammates met him with much praise at the end.

Git.