Lady and the Champ by Katherine Lace Page B

me.
    “Austin Sherwood, you son of a bitch.”
    There’s no mistaking that voice. I have no idea how she figured out where I was this fast, but I’m impressed. I’m also impressed when she storms across the locker room, giant naked football players parting in front of her like the Red Sea. She seems completely oblivious, focused on me and nothing else.
    I smile at her when she stops in front of me, fists planted on her hips. “Hey. What’s up?”
    “You know exactly what’s up, Sherwood.”
    She wags a finger in my face. It makes me wish she was wearing a hot librarian outfit.
    “I said meet at the practice facility for your therapy session, not meet at the practice facility for practice.”
    I hear laughter next to me and glance at Orrin. He seems to be enjoying watching me get yelled at.
    “I’m sorry, Doc. I must have heard you wrong.”
    “You—” She breaks off and glances around, seeming to just then realize we’re surrounded by half the team, many of them buck-ass naked, all of them attentive. “Come with me.”
    “Sure, Doc.”
    She grabs my arm and drags me across the locker room. I can hear the laughter following us, the assortment of lewd comments. This is honestly going better than I’d imagined it would. It’s so much fun to get her riled up.
    I might feel just a bit guilty that I’m going back on my promise to follow her instructions. Not much, though. Her chains are so easy to jerk, and I just can’t help myself.
    We make it to a quiet-ish corner of the locker room and she half-shoves me up against the wall.
    Oh, baby .
    “What are you grinning about?” she snaps, as if grinning were a federal offense.
    “I like the way you’re throwing me around. It’s getting me all hot and bothered.”
    Her face is starting to turn an alarming shade of purple, and I wonder if she’s been stress-tested recently.
    “Although I have to admit, when I fantasized about it, it was just you and me, not you, me, and a dozen other naked dudes.”
    Chloe absolutely flips her shit. I thought I’d seen her mad before—that was nothing. That was a high school experiment-type volcano compared to the Chloe-shaped Vesuvius that’s erupting right now.
    “I thought we had an agreement , Sherwood! I thought you made a promise. Hell, I thought you actually wanted to play football again this season. Because you know what? That’s not going to happen if you don’t fucking do what I tell you !”
    She’s so infuriated she’s spitting while she talks, and red patches have risen high and bright on her cheeks. I can’t help but wonder what all that emotion would be like if it were channeled into sex. She just might be able to give me a run for my money in the bedroom. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that about a woman. Ever.
    Then it starts to soak in exactly how angry she is. How disappointed she is in me. That’s when I start to actually feel bad for pulling this prank on her. All she’s trying to do is her job. And her job is fixing me. So why am I giving her so much shit?
    Because it’s fun.
    Well. That’s very true. But maybe I should give her a break before her head explodes.
    “Okay,” I say, as if I never said anything outrageous at all. “What do you want me to do?”
    Her mouth opens and closes a few times as the red patches start to fade from her face. She swallows and blinks. I have to practically clench my teeth to keep from laughing. I keep my expression neutral so I don’t provoke her. I want to see what she’s going to say.
    “I want you to get out of that football gear…” She pauses, obviously realizing what she said. It’s all I can do not to rise to the bait. She closes her eyes tight, her face reddening again, then finishes, “Then we’ll go do your therapy session.”
    I give her a nod. “Okay.”
    “Okay?” She looks more than skeptical.
    “I said okay, I meant okay.”
    “Well, then, okay.”
    As promised, I go back to the locker room and change out of my football