Biker's Virgin

"I'm sorry for dating your brother."

"You were the best thing about him, what does he have going for himself now?" she joked. I laughed at that. It was still a little hollow, but felt good.

I was back in bed fifteen minutes after she left. My hand found its way to the nightstand, picking up my necklace. I put it on, tucking it safely under the neck of my top. He had given it to me before he left the last time. Now, I'd wear it, the way he would have wanted. The barely there weight against my neck was nothing close weight of his body in bed close to me, but it was something. It was all I could get and I was taking it.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Roman

"Roman!"

I stopped and looked behind me. Coach Hayes was walking up the hallway behind me. Coaches never looked like they were supposed to coach the sports that they did. Coach Hayes was tall, really tall, taller than I was, but looked like if he had ever played anything, it was basketball, not football. He caught up to me.

"Yeah, Coach?"

"You're here every day, Roman. You're more dedicated than the guys we've had on our roster the past five years," he said. I shrugged.

"I'm here to do a job. I wanna make sure I can when the time comes."

"It's going to be your first training camp, isn't it," he said, I thought more to himself than to me. He was right. It was going to be my first training camp. I had trained for football for most of my life at this point, but training camp? Professional training camp was not a fucking joke.

All I had to go on were reports from the few other players I'd met who were coming to the facility to get their individual training in before camp started. Apparently, it was brutal. Long days, early start time, two practices a day, weightlifting, and a lot of playbook study. Some of them were coming to the facility to get their injuries taken care of before camp so they didn't end up making them worse. I had made it through playing in high school and college without any really bad injuries, but the point was still to be careful. When you're an athlete, your body is your bread. You break something bad enough and the checks stop coming in.

"I have a feeling you'll be just fine," Coach Hayes told me. "Just concentrate. Remember why you're here. Nobody said it would be easy, but it will be worth it." I nodded, thanking him for his advice. I had been trying to work on my strength and endurance since moving. If nothing else, I didn't want to feel ground down to dust by the end of each training day when camp started. "How's the move been treating you?"

"Fine," I said, shrugging again. The weather had been 89 degrees or hotter since I had gotten here. It was going to stay that high, crawling into the mid-nineties through August. With the humidity, it was kind of ridiculous. It hadn't been long enough for my body to be able to take it yet.

"Where were you before? South Dakota?"

"This isn't Aberdeen, but I'll be okay." He gave a look like he'd heard it before from enough guys to doubt whether it was actually true.

"Keep your body in shape. You go hard in the gym, you make sure you aren't straining anything," he said. I nodded, saying I would. I had already been to the team's chiropractor, who had been disgusted by my flexibility and had me on this stretching routine I had to do after every workout. I wasn't complaining about the massages or using the whirlpools, though.

I had just been getting ready to leave. I had come by just before noon and it was four now. He let me go, heading towards his office and letting me go to the locker room.

It was still pretty easy up to now, I was going to enjoy it before it got tough. I grabbed my stuff and drove back to my apartment, stopping by a little Cuban place I had been picking food up from for the past few days. Cooking wasn't really my thing, but while moving in for the past several days, it had basically gone out the window.

I pulled into the complex I lived in and parked my car in the parking garage. My new car. It had been one of the first things I had gotten when I got here. I had thought that maybe I'd get something used after selling my old one, but with my signing bonus, I didn't end up having to. I parked and rode the elevator up to my place.

Rachel had been right. This place was worth it. It was fucking massive. I had thought the place back home had been a problem because it had two bedrooms. This one had one more than that, a kitchen with equipment I'd never even heard of and was more expensive to rent than the house, even though it was an apartment. That said, it was a five-minute walk to the beach, ten-minute drive to the facility, and the master bedroom balcony looked over the ocean.

It was a lot, but apparently, all the guys lived like this, most even better than this. I was slumming. On the way to the facility each day, I drove past these huge mansions, places with yards and pools, right on the water. One of my new teammates, a guy named Jon, lived along that strip, and he had invited me over. What the fuck did he do with five bedrooms when he lived alone? I didn't get it. It was nice, but it was just more rooms to try keep clean.

I shouldn't have complained about the nice things my signing bonus had managed to get me, but it was just very different from what I was used to. Thinking about it a little, it occurred to me. Privacy; that was it. Those big ass houses were like castles, secure and secluded.

/> Rachel, an assistant who helped the new transplants out, had tried to get me to buy one but I had passed. This was enough. It was in a secure building, close to work and I could still see the beach. I could probably afford to move, but the worst time to start feeling froggy was now when I could start putting money away for the future.

I had taken a shower before coming home so I just walked straight through to the bedroom. Rachel had taken care of the furnishing for me, which was why it looked like someone who knew what they were doing had put it together. I was high up enough to not need drapes, but she had gone for this general dark, muted color scheme. Leather couches in the living room, a rough-hewn, rugged-looking dining table I had warned her I'd never use, but she had gotten anyway. End tables, nightstands, everything I did and didn't need.

It had grown on me since moving in. Today was the last day that deliveries had come in. I had left Rachel with a key to get everything set up, and I had to say, she had done a pretty good job. Some shit you just wanted someone else to do because they knew what they were doing. I loved the kitchen, even though I didn't use it. The fridge had two doors and was mostly empty.

Ron would love it, I thought when I saw it. She'd have a field day with the whole place. Maybe I'd figure out how to make more than just pasta in cheese sauce, in her honor.

My phone vibrated against my leg in my pocket as I walked to the kitchen to grab some water. Ron had been the last thing on my mind before picking up, so it was a little disappointing that that hadn't somehow made it her name on the phone. It was Tiffany.

"Hello?"

"Rome?"