Offsides with the Enemy: sleeping with the boss enemies-to-lovers football romance (The Rebel Players) by Clarissa McKay

Author:Clarissa McKay [McKay, Clarissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

The locker room, unsurprisingly, is empty when I arrive at work in the morning. The team won’t be showing up for practice for another hour or so, but I’m not surprised to see the light coming from Austin’s office as I walk into mine. I take off my jacket and hang it up before my gaze goes to the Tupperware I’d left on my desk—the one with the cake Mom had given me last night for Austin.

It’s not early in the morning, by any means, but part of me is surprised that Austin is even here already. I figured he would want to stay home, look after his mom. Though, I’m not judging him either way. It’s none of my business, but it doesn’t quell my worry for him.

Twisting my lips to the side, I grab the Tupperware, letting out a breath before I make my way out of my office and take the few steps to get to him. Standing in the doorway, my gaze immediately finds him, eyes fixated on the laptop in front of him, paperwork strewn about on his desk and a pen in between his teeth as he types. His eyebrows are scrunched together in what I initially think is concentration, but the longer I watch him, the clearer it is that it’s also frustration that seems to tighten his features.

It’s silent in the room, only disturbed by the clacking of the keyboard as he types away, unaware of me lurking in his doorway. Before it starts to become creepy, I rap my knuckles on the doorframe while calling out a gentle, “Hey.”

Austin’s gaze snaps up from the screen, which bathes his face in a light blue, as green eyes lock onto my brown ones. The instant our stares meet, my stomach dips and pulse quickens slightly, as if one look from him is enough to make my body respond. Since when did I allow him to have that kind of power over me?

When the silence stretches, I clear my throat lightly and ask, “How’s your mom? Is she okay?”

My questions seem to snap Austin out of it. The muscle in his jaw jumps as his eyes remain on me. His intent stare is electric, watching me as if he is trying to figure something out, making my heart thunder a bit more rapidly in my chest. The mask is back on, obscuring me from seeing the emotions that he is an expert in hiding, and it makes my muscles tense up. That’s not a good sign.

“She’s alright,” Austin says, his voice gruff as he leans back in his chair. “She’s got a sprained ankle. Nothing broken.” His jaw tenses briefly again. “Small miracles.”

Some relief filters through me at his words. A sprained ankle isn’t ideal, but it’s far better than the alternative of a broken foot. Before I can say as much, Austin asks, “What’s that?”

There’s no inflection in his tone, his words flat as a board. I resist the urge to frown, telling myself he had a big scare last night, so he’s entitled to having some kind of attitude.

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