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Chapter 1
Nathan
The women’s team. I came all the way to America with my tail between my legs, thinking this position was a way to get some of my lost glory back, only to find out I’m coaching girls. Not that I think girls shouldn’t play football—sorry, they call it soccer here—but it’s not the best way to get my name in the news. I need good press, and lots of it, to prove I’m staying on the straight and narrow.
I look over my new team, a row of curious faces.
“All right, ladies, why don’t we jump right into some drills,” I call out.
“Where’s your accent from, Coach Browers?”
Well, that stings a little. But then I remind myself this is America. South Carolina to be exact, and foot—ahem—soccerisn’t that popular here. Then again, these women are college-level athletes. Shouldn’t they follow pro teams?
“He’s from London, but played for Manchester United,” another one pipes up. “He played for the England National team last year.”
Okay, that’s more like it. I locate the speaker in the lineup and offer her a smile that sends her into a gale of giggles.
“Until he got kicked off.”
I swivel my head in the direction of the new voice. I move down the line to stand in front of a tall redhead and give her a lingering once-over that’s meant to intimidate. Instead, all it does is make me realize how hot she is. Her fiery hair is pulled into a ponytail, but I can easily picture it hanging free down her shoulders, tumbling over the taut breasts that strain against her jersey. Her leggings cling to shapely, long legs that I just as easily picture wrapped around my waist.
No. Icannotget turned on by my players. That’s a one-way ticket out of here, my chance at redemption. I’m not a pro anymore, and she’s not a groupie. I’m her coach. I have to stay focused.
I still get a little too close for comfort. I tower over her, despite the fact she’s taller than most of the others. The player next to her sucks in a breath, but my ginger stands her ground. I take her by the shoulders and turn her around so I can see her name embroidered on the back of her shirt. The heat of her body makes my fingers tighten of their own volition, and I quickly let her go. “Are we going to have a problem, Adams?”
“I hope not,” she says, looking me straight in the eye after she turns back around. “And you can call me Maya.”
Her eyes are dark blue and there’s a hint of a smile on her full lips. Christ, she’s gorgeous. I take a step back to keep myself from reaching out for her again. No fucking the players. I haven’t actually read the code of conduct manual I was given, but I’d bet my former salary it’s in there somewhere.
“Start running laps, ladies,” I bellow.
I rigorously put them through a training sequence that would make even me drop, and I’m glad to find out that they’re actually pretty good. I shouldn’t be anyone’s coach; I should still be out on the field. I know I only have myself to blame for the bizarre twist in my life, and I should be grateful to have a job at all. Still, all I want is to get back home and get back on a team.Anyteam. But I’m poison; no one’s going to touch me until I can prove I can keep it together. No more bar brawls, no more public drunkenness, no more womanizing. And especially no fraternizing with anyone on my new team.
It’s hard to keep my eyes off Maya Adams as she bounces with ease through all the drills I assign the team. God, she’s got an amazing ass …
In my distraction, I miss someone making a goal, so I quickly turn away when the others cheer for her. I clap and blow the whistle to finally end the practice. I can’t keep torturing them just because I want to continue watching Maya strut her stuff. They’re laughing even though they’re sweating through their uniforms, and I’m sure their legs are shaking. I’m impressed, if I’m being honest. They’re a tough group and they definitely have potential. For the first time since I stepped foot on this continent, some of my bitterness at being stuck here fades.
“You ladies are alright,” I say, looking over them fiercely. “Why aren’t you winning more often?”
A few of them shrug. “We were half and half last season.”
Maya snickers and shakes her head. “That’s nothing to be proud of.”
“She’s right,” I say. “That actually sucks. Expect more practices like today. We’re going to blow some minds this season.”
There are a few half-hearted cheers, and I repeat myself, but louder this time. “Get excited, you lazy …” I trail off, unsure of what I can call them without it coming back to bite me in the ass. I’m used to coaches who don’t hold back, professionals no less. Then there’s the whole thing with them being college girls. “I’m not going to go easy on you. What the hell is your team’s name, anyway?”
“How areyouour coach, again?” Maya asks, with hands on her perfect hips.
“A series of mistakes on my part, but now I’m here. I don’t want you half-assing this. I don’t play on losing teams, and I’m not about to coach them, either.”
“We’re called the Lady Rams, but we hate it. Every women’s team here is just the lady version of the boys.”
“That’s some fuckery, you’re right,” I agree, earning a huge smile from the player that had spoken.
“We petitioned to change our name to the Seahorses last year, but it didn’t pass.”
“Well, for now I’ll call you the sea cows until you win your first game, and then we can talk about an upgrade.”
