Illegal Contact (The Barons 1)

“Okay . . .”

“So what I need for you to do, Noah, is for you to let me know how Gavin’s state of mind is. He depends on football the way I depend on my Xanax prescription. It’s his way of coping.”

“I’ve already scheduled for his therapist and the anger-management counselor to—”

“I’m not talking about that.” Joe’s voice had a way of cracking through a sentence like a thunderbolt. “I want to know if he is coping by way of doing things that may end up damaging his reputation.”

“Do you mean . . .” I thought about Gavin, his dedication to his body and health, and shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but there are absolutely zero signs of Gavin having unhealthy vices other than the brutal way he works out.”

There was another pause. A longer one.

“I want you to tell me if he’s keeping company with people who may cause him problems later on.”

“Uh . . .”

“There are people who can hurt him. Ways people have tried to hurt his teammates. I don’t want him to fall into the same trap.”

Did he mean gold diggers? People who would sell pictures to the gossip columnists and paps? I had no idea, but the conversation put my back up and sent my hair standing on edge, because . . . no.

“With all due respect, Mr. Carmichael, there is absolutely no way I could ever report to you about Gavin’s personal life. When I signed that confidentiality agreement, there was no caveat for confiding in his manager or his agent. I don’t know if he trusts me fully, but he does enough to have me in his home. And I won’t betray that. Ethically or as one human being to another.”

There was a low scoff on the other end of the line. “You misunderstand my intention.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t think you’re trying to hurt him. I believe you want the best for him. But I also know Gavin would serve both our heads up on a platter if he knew this conversation was happening, and I know he would feel belittled and enraged that you’re asking me to babysit him.”

“Noah, do yourself a favor and don’t start believing you understand him better than me or Mel.”

It was the second time he’d referenced her. Had this come up in their conversation as well?

“I don’t think I understand him,” I said after a beat. “At all. I have no doubts you know him better than I do, Joe.”

“Good. Because I do,” Joe said. “And I want to protect him. You met him five minutes ago—there’s no way you could understand. But on the other side of this, your dedication and loyalty have been noted. I can see why he’s so invested in keeping you. Now return the fucking DocuSign.”

We hung up, but instead of instantly signing off on it, I went to find Gavin.

As usual, he was in the gym.

The gym was ridiculous. It was more stocked with dumbbells and machines than the Planet Fitness I paid every month but rarely went to. And it was large enough for his entire team to fit through the doors and go to work. Well, maybe part of his team. How many guys started in a football game, anyway?

I found Gavin bench-pressing something that probably added up to twice the weight of my entire body. He was wearing nothing but tiny compression shorts again, and I had a hard time not staring at his thick thighs and the bulge between them. He was sweaty and his eyes were closed, earbuds jammed into his ears.

Several times I started to speak and stopped again. He wouldn’t hear me, anyway. So, I waited. And waited. Feasting on the sight of his powerful body and ultimately feeling like the worst kind of pervert for doing so. When a full minute went by, I had to walk away. If he opened his eyes and found me staring down at him, he’d either be startled or creeped out. Rightfully.

I wandered around a gym that was likely the size of my apartment, and stopped in front of a system of straps that were attached to the ceiling. I had no idea how someone worked out with such a device. Maybe it was a sex thing.

I picked up one of the straps and tested the strength, thinking of all kinds of fun stuff two guys could do while one was restrained, and jumped when a big hand fell on my shoulder.

“Wanna use it?”

I dropped the strap and spun around to find Gavin well into my personal space. He was flushed and glorious, reeking of sweat. I was enough of a scent hound for that to turn me on.

“I don’t even know what it is.”