Win Big: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (6 page)

I
did
everything I could to get comfortable on the treatment table after he left. The meds had kicked in, but only slightly. Every position hurt like a bitch. As I sat there, wondering who the athletic training department chair would assign to the team, the door opened. Professor Jeffries walked in with the football team’s Sports Physician, Dr. Burton, followed by Ryan, the team’s athletic trainer, and Jeff, the graduate student working under them all.

And a girl.

What the fuck?

“Evan, we weren’t expecting you to come down here in your state,” Dr. Burton stated.

“I…well I figured I’d get a head start,” I stammered out. This chick they brought along was hot, but I wrote her off during the first three seconds. If they thought she was getting anywhere near my junk they had another thing coming.

“Since you’re already here, we can discuss your prognosis and treatment plan.” He probably noticed the way I stared at the girl. “In case you don’t know everyone on your core team, this is Samantha Woodward. She’ll be your dedicated assistant athletic trainer and therapist. She will provide daily support during and after your first five to seven days of resting the area.”

I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even smile or nod my head. I was frozen on the spot and had to devote a shitload of energy to pick my jaw up from the floor. She didn’t seem thrilled to see me, either. We spent a long time sizing each other up. Dr. Jeffries eventually cleared his throat, getting our attention. We both turned to him.

“Everyone, please. Have a seat.”

“Not you, Evan,” Dr. Burton added. “You stay put. I’m surprised you could manage getting out of bed today. If you don’t remember anything else this week, remember this. Five to seven days of rest, starting today. That means bed rest. You’re only getting out of bed to use the bathroom. No exceptions. Got it?”

“What about course lectures? And meals?” I had to ask.

“You’ll have to miss a week of classes,” Dr. Jeffries answered, flipping through my student-athlete file. “It’s the first week of classes. I can’t see you missing much. This semester, you’re enrolled in Advanced Media Persuasion and Exercise Journaling Fundamentals.”

He smirked. It was a condescending sneer. Probably because they were easy courses, or bird courses as my Canadian mother would call them.

Well chirp chirp, motherfucker.

He should have blamed the douchebag faculty board that allowed it on the curriculum, or better yet, the idiot professors who taught these piece-of-shit courses that we athletes took to bump up our GPAs.

“I think you’ll be okay for a week. As for meals, I believe there’s enough in the budget for your campus meal plan to be delivered. You’re fine.”

Everyone else took a seat in the chairs along the wall beside the treatment table I was in. My eyes were trained on Samantha.

A chick.

How was I supposed to do the work I needed to do with a girl managing my man parts? What the hell did she know about physical therapy for football players? The only kind of therapy I used girls for had to do getting my dick up inside them. That was way different from what this Samantha would be doing. She didn’t even look like the type I’d let touch me when I was healthy. The chick had a permanent frown on her face, and her nose wrinkled a little every time she looked my way. I wondered if she knew that her clear displeasure to be at this meeting was all over her snobby little face.

Kind of the way mine probably looked right about now too.

Dr. Burton folded his arms. “Dr. Jeffries has updated Ryan and Samantha on your injury, so we’re all up to speed. As you’re aware, tests have confirmed the diagnosis as a grade two strain of your left groin tendon. It’s severe, but not the end of the world. A full tear would have been potentially…catastrophic. Thankfully, that doesn’t apply to you. You can make a full recovery from this.”

“That’s a relief,” I admitted, breathing a little easier, but not much, because he did mention it was severe.

“For sure. I would hate to see a more serious injury derail your goals—as I’m sure you would, too. We’ve put together a plan for you which should have you up and running well in advance of the Combine. I’m sure that hard target date is a big concern of yours.”

“Should? Is there some doubt about the timing? Or the injury?”

“He didn’t say it shouldn’t be, you know.” Samantha put her two cents in with a voice laced with what sounded like acid and resentment. I figured she was either PMS’ing right now, or she was a dyke. It was the only explanation I could think of for the way she spoke to me. Maybe I was onto something with my dyke theory. I never got this kind of reaction from women right off the bat. That only happened if I said something cocky, or used them for the usual one-time sex act when they wanted more.

Yeah, she had to be a lesbian.

I turned slowly to her. “I heard what he said.” We locked eyes. Hers were a deep sapphire blue and bitter as hell.

“Let’s move on,” Dr. Burton continued, ignoring us both. “As mentioned, if you follow the rehabilitation program and heed our advice, you’ll be in great shape by the time the combine rolls around. In terms of your care plan after bed rest, we’ve prepared a plan which you will follow under Ryan and Jeff, with Samantha’s daily guidance. You’ll meet with me once a week, and Dr. Jeffries will check in with us, in the event that we need to secure any academic accommodations for you with the Disabilities office. I doubt we’ll need any, given your course load, however let’s keep an eye on it.”

“So the advice will be coming from Ryan, Jeff and… Samantha here?” I glanced at her, then back at the doc.

“Yes. I should mention that Ryan has to manage three other athletes on the football team’s injured list. Jeff’s in no better shape, as he’s providing coverage on the soccer and track teams. Resource-wise, we’re stretched thin for a few weeks.”

Dr. Jeffries raised an arm. “But Samantha is the top athletic training undergraduate student in our program. You’ll be in good hands. She will work directly with you, providing advice and monitoring your progress five to seven days a week, and will report back to Jeff and Ryan with her findings. If anything needs to be adjusted accordingly, we’ll do that.”

“But she’s not certified, and she’d not even in the graduate program. I’m not sure I like this plan.”

“The plan is solid, Evan.”

“Wait a second. Why aren’t we juggling assignments to accommodate me? In all fairness, all along I’ve been told I’m at the top of our student list for potential NFL draft picks. I haven’t heard much about the other pro teams, but my rehab program should be a priority, right? I’m just saying maybe Jeff or Ryan should be working directly with me instead of putting my care in the hands of… of someone who’s just getting experience now.” I looked at her. “No offense.”

She adjusted herself in her chair so she could face me. “Do you have a problem working with a woman, Mr. Marshall? Because I would be more than happy to walk away right now and get back to my other work.”

“You know that’s not an option, Samantha,” Dr. Jeffries cautioned, giving her a disapproving glance. His voice was flat, tight. “Let’s keep this professional, and try to remember you’re still being assessed as part of the student core…in my program.”

So she didn’t want this assignment any more than I wanted her here.

Good.

That also told me that she absolutely had to be a dyke.

What woman in her right mind wouldn’t kill for the chance to put her hands on my body and watch me work out? I was used to telling women they had to stay away, not convincing them to stick around.

“You know what, Doc? Maybe I can handle this recovery plan on my own…or with some help from my teammates.” I looked at Dr. Burton who was already shaking his head at my suggestion. “I would hate to take the top student away from her other work. I’m sure it’s…important.”

“Seeing as how I was going to head up the baseball team’s program, yeah, it was pretty important,” she whined.

“Excuse us for a moment, gentlemen,” Dr. Jeffries said, clearly exasperated. “Dr. Burton, feel free to proceed with your run-through of the recovery plan with Evan.” He got to his feet and glanced over at Samantha. “Let’s have a word outside.”

She was seething as she left, and it all made sense now. They dragged her off her assignment to the baseball team for this. That was a pretty big deal, and a shitty deal for her if she didn’t want to work with the football team in the first place. No wonder she was bitter. Working with me would take up her time for as much as six weeks. We were both stuck with each other, it appeared. Still, this college had a chance to send a wide receiver to the pros. Of course they wanted to be sure I didn’t miss my shot—especially when the injury occurred on their practice field.

Dr. Burton let Ryan share their plan of attack. All the while we were all listening to the fireworks out in the hallway. She was a feisty one, arguing her case with the big boss, but calmed down when Dr. Jeffries warned her that if she so much as said another word in protest, she would be in contravention of one of the special program requirements that triggered an academic probation or even dismissal. Something like failure to perform assigned clinical responsibilities would ensure she would not graduate after this semester.

That shut her up real fast.

They stepped inside a few moments later. “So we’re all set, then.”

“Excellent. So are we,” answered Dr. Burton. “Any questions, Evan?”

“I’m good.” There was nothing else for me to say. We were all in a bind here. I decided there and then that I’d take responsibility for my own recovery, learn as much as I could from Ryan and Jeff, and follow the plan. Samantha could tag along for the ride. We both had to make the best of being stuck together.

I inched along the treatment table to get off, and all five of them jumped to their feet. Ryan ordered me to stop.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“This is why I told you we would meet you at your residence, Evan,” Dr. Burton blasted me. “You can’t be moving around like that. Jeff and Ryan, take him to the facility transport bus. Samantha, get his crutches. You can drive him home.”

She rolled her eyes, but as she’d just been told by the department head, she nodded. Grabbing my crutches, she followed Ryan and Jeff as they came on each side of me and lifted me off the table and out of the room until we were outside. They waited with me, making small talk while Samantha disappeared around the corner. She returned in the nine-passenger shuttle bus that the training center used to transfer athletes on the injured list. Hopping out, she walked around the bus and opened the back sliding door.

I got my first real head-to-toe look at Samantha’s body.

I was impressed.

She was tall and athletic with a trim waist, and slight curves in all the right places.

Not bad at all, for a lesbian.

The chick walked with no grace at all. She had the stride of a linebacker, another glaring clue that she didn’t bat for my team. That and her piss poor attitude to Dr. Jeffries were one hell of a combination. With her not-so-chipper disposition and my outright bluntness, I wondered how long it would take for the two of us to kill each other.

Ryan and Jeff got me in the back seat. I looked over at Ryan before they closed the door. “Dude. You sure about this?”

He gave me a devious grin while Samantha went around the front of the van to get in the driver’s seat “You heard Dr. Burton. You’re in good hands. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Well crap.

This was probably karma in his view, after all I’d put him through over the years.

Samantha turned over the engine and drove off, brushing her bangs out of her eyes before giving me a look from the overhead rear view mirror. “If you could stop being a jerk for a few minutes, I’d like to learn a little bit more about you.”

“You would know,” I tossed back at her.

“Please.” She seemed to have a lot more to say so I waited. “Maybe the only way around this awkwardness is through. Here’s what I think about where we stand. You don’t want to work with a woman. I don’t want to work with a football player. We both have issues. It doesn’t mean we can’t get this through this rehab and recovery plan.”

“What the hell is your beef with football players anyway?” I couldn’t resist asking. Her face instantly flushed at her cheeks, and she stopped checking the rear view mirror to look at me.

Ahhhh.

My Spidey senses told me I hit a sore spot.

“It’s not my favorite sport, that’s all,” she offered. “Look. Please just consider this, all right? I’ve been working since freshman year to head up the baseball team, and got assigned to it a few days ago, only to be ripped from the team so I can help you. Now do you can see why I’d be unhappy about the assignment?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can see that, but you’re still damned lucky.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You get to take some of the credit after I get myself off the injured list. There’s one thing you need to know about me, if you don’t already. I give everything to do with football one hundred and ten percent. That includes my diet, my physical fitness in the gym, and above all, my performance and effort on and off the football field. The doctors believe I can be back in six weeks, and because they believe it, I’m going to do just that. Probably in five. That’s how I roll. So the way I see it, you get to say you helped Evan Marshall when I finally make it to the NFL. It’s bound to improve your value when you get back to your precious baseball team. It’s a win-win.”

She shook her head. “That’s how you see it, huh? Typical, but as we seem to be making some strides to at least trying to get along, I’ll let you believe that.” Taking a long, labored breath, she looked in the rear view mirror again. “I understand it has to be a real drag going through this process. I know you have a lot riding on the next few months. It sucks, and I’m sorry about your injury.”

“Thanks.” I felt a little more relaxed, too.

“I think if we put aside the fact that neither of us wants to be here, we’ll work together well. You’re driven. So am I. We’ll get you well.”