Page 25 of Bad Run

Gwen turns on her heel and sashays back to her camera. My eyes stay glued to her ass the entire time.

“Who’s the idiot now?” Cam asks.

“Fuck off,” I growl.

Nico smacks my cap off my head. “Fucking dumbass. Be nice to her, or next time I will punch you.”

“Seriously,” Cam agrees. “Gwen has enough on her plate with her dad. Can you believe the fucker gives his sons executive roles without question, but Gwen has to work a mid-level role. That’s some messed-up shit right there. She’s his daughter, and super fucking smart. She deserves better,” Cam complains.

Memories of our conversation that night surface. About being let down again by her father and how she hates that he doesn’t see her worth and how hard she works. How sometimes she thinks about running away from it all to get away from him.

The last thing Gwen needs is another man who makes her feel worthless.

Fuck.

I really am an idiot.

eight

Gwen

Present

The freaking nerve of that man.

My hands shake as I fold the tripod and place it in the camera equipment bag.

I don’t know what’s up his butt, but I’m tired of finding him glaring at me from the fence.

We haven’t spoken a word to each other since he accused me of lying. While we’ve been at the training facility, I’ve given him a wide berth, hoping he would cool off and get over it already.

Today, I couldn’t ignore him anymore. Lance is the only player who hasn’t taken part in any of the promo videos, and it’s raising questions. There has been a flurry of fan speculation about his health and whether he has an injury.

The team needs to set the record straight before things get out of hand.

Unlocking my office door, I enter, and place the camera equipment on the desk next to the half-eaten box of pink-glazed donuts with rainbow sprinkles.

The sound of cleats clacking on the cement floor catches my attention and stops me from grabbing a pastry and devouring it.

Peeking my head out of my office, I find Lance walking in my direction as he stares at his feet, mumbling something under his breath. He’s in his gray practice uniform, and dammit, if he doesn’t look fine as hell. I can’t help ogling the way his baseball pants strain against his muscular thighs as he clutches his baseball hat in one hand and runs the other through his dark-blonde hair.

Ugh, I hate that I still want to hump his stupidly sexy, broody face.

As he inches closer to my office, I step out, halting him in his tracks. He looks up, and his cornflower-blue eyes capture mine. For a second, something familiar flashes in his eyes, but disappears just as quickly.

“Get in here.” I grab his jersey and tug him into my office. Closing the door behind us, he lets me push him back against the wall. “You need to stop acting like a douchebag and let me do my job. Just do your job and participate in the marketing videos. I know you think they are stupid, but people are talking—”

“You’re right. I’ll stop being a douche and do the videos,” Lance agrees. His acquiescence seems too easy, but then again, marketing is part of his job and he knows it.

“Okay, then. That was easier than I thought it was going to be.” I take a few steps back, putting some much-needed space between us.

“Did you expect me to be hard for you?” he asks.

“What?” I can’t help peeking at his dick for a millisecond.

“That’s not what I meant. But it’s nice to know you want me hard for you.” The wicked man chuckles as he places his hat backward on his head and crosses his arms over his chest. His biceps bulge as he stands to his full height with his back ramrod straight.

Damn, he looks good today.