Page 17 of Virgin Pass

Chapter Eight

Austin

Not all practicesare created equal. Then again, not all practices end with the starting quarterback having to step aside to let the fucking rookie take his place now that the no-show decided to make an appearance. I was doing fine on my own, but I’d do even better with my lucky angel by my side. I know she’s not my agent anymore, but she’s still mine, and I’m not one to share in any capacity.

I’ve been calling and texting, and she’s always right there, but then we had to go to a mandatory two-day offsite on the other side of the state, no family or agents allowed—which meant no Lori. It also meant I was alone to toss and turn in my bed, missing her so fiercely I was in physical pain—for two days. No Lori to bounce my ideas off of before practice, no lucky angel to bury my hard cock inside her tight little body after practice—for two days straight—and even then, I was doing fine.

Now that we’re back at home base, however, I’m a fucking mess. I can’t hold on to the ball to save my career, which will be over if I can’t get my shit together. So here I am, sitting alone in the locker room, contemplating my options, and I’ve never felt more lost. God, I wish Lori was here for me to talk to. My lucky angel knows me better than I know myself.

Which has made me rethinking a lot of things, honestly. Once I got Eddy on the phone and he practically fell all over himself to start the process to re-sign me, I realized the power of having my woman believe in me when no one else did. Lori’s twice the agent Eddy ever thought about being. She’s done more for me and my career—and I don’t mean between the sheets—in the short time she’s repped me than Eddy did in over a decade. My lucky angel is the reason I’m back on my game.

Now I need to convince her of that.

Not a problem. I have a plan. It’s not a smart plan, it’s not even a good plan, but it’s still a plan and it’s more than I had this morning. I saw Lori talking with King before practice, saw the way he kept inching toward her. Is she thinking about repping him? Doesn’t Brad know she’s my girl? If he doesn’t, he’s going to find out pretty fucking quick right before I end him for thinking he can move in on what’s mine. The coach will have something to say about that, I’m sure.

Speaking of the devil…

An angry outburst sounds from the hall, and I look up and see Coach storming into the locker room, a phone to his ear.

“No, Lori,” he barks. “You listen to me. I only let you run with Striker because I didn’t think he could get any worse. I had no idea he’d find a way to pull his head out of his ass. There’s no way I’m letting you touch my rookie QB. His stats are better than Striker’s were his rookie year. No, Lori. I said no. No, it’s not because I’m your father. It’s because I’m the fucking coach!” He ends the call and rounds the corner, abruptly stopping when he spots me still sitting on the bench. “Striker.”

“Coach.” I offer a curt head nod. We both know I heard every word of his side of the conversation. My protective instincts are in overdrive as I think of my angel and how her father’s words must have cut into her. Coach didn’t let her run with me. I chose her.

And, goddamn it, I’d choose her again. And again. Over and over. Lori is a great agent, one hell of a motivator. She’s also the woman I love and I won’t let anyone talk to her the way Coach Connor just talked to her.

I stand. “Coach, a word?”

“Don’t start with me, Striker. I have a shit storm on my hands and a kid who thinks she has the right to talk to my players like she’s some sort of real agent.”

“She is a real agent.” I clench my fists and hold my ground. Never mind that I told her she wasn’t, now I’m digging in my heels. Yes, this is stupid and will more than likely get me benched and even end my chances of ever starting this season—which will definitely be my final season if that happens—but I can’t let him talk about my girl like that. “She knows the game better than half the players on the field. She’s got an eye for talent, one you’d be an idiot to ignore. She’s smart, too. So damn smart.”

He narrows his eyes as his mouth falls open. “Are we talking about the same person?”

Now that just pisses me off. Lori is an only child, for Christ’s sake. He knows who I’m talking about. “She must get her brains from her mother.”

“Hold your shit talk, Striker.” Coach turns beet red. “Did you know that smart agent of yours is considering taking on Kingmaker, too? Now I’ll have two QBs repped by someone better off as a teacher or some other menial job.”

“My mother was a teacher, and a damned good one,” I growl and curl my hands into fists. “Lori’s smarter than she is, and that’s saying something.”

“Oh, please.” Coach rolls his eyes, only pissing me off more. My anger inches higher, my rage bubbling just below the surface. Stay calm, Striker. Do not attack the coach or you’ll never play again. “My daughter is many things. Being the smartest person in the room isn’t one of them. I should know. I paid for her college.”

“How much?” I’m through listening to this asshole talk about my angel this way. He has no hold on her, no rights to her, not any longer. Those rights belong to me now.

“What?” he laughs, though it sounds forced. His eyes are wide as he searches mine.

“Tell me how much you paid. I’ll cut you a check right now.” When he waves me off, I grab his wrist. “Tell me.”

He loses his smile and glares at me. “Get your fucking hands off me, Striker.”

“Give me a number.” Yes, this is stupid. Yes, it could cost me my job, but I refuse to allow Lori’s father to use her college debt against her, hanging that over her head like it’s something to be ashamed of. Coach Connor announces an outrageous number, a smirk curling his lips.

“Done,” I say. “Now you no longer have that to hold against her.”

“What the hell are you doing, man? She’s just a woman.”

“She’s my woman,” I fire back and take a step forward, driving him back in retreat, his hands up. “Mine. You’ve been relieved of your obligations.”

Coach laughs. The fucker actually laughs in my face, which could be hazardous to his health. “Are you serious with this caveman act? What’s with you? Is she the reason why you started playing like you did ten years ago? Is getting a young little piece of ass how you roll? When you get tired of her, then what?”