Sworn Enemies - Rebel Hart Page 0,46

Zeke slowly slid his hands down my shoulders and over my arms. The feeling of his hands sliding against me was enough to bring my gaze up to him. “Are you good?”

“She made us lose the game.”

He nodded, still keeping his hands on my arms. “I know. I saw.”

“She wouldn’t listen to anyone or anything. I didn’t know what to do.” Emotions started to slink out, but I bit them back. I’d been an angry crier as long as I could remember, but when you were a woman, tears were associated only with sadness or hysteria, so I learned to keep them down whenever I could. “She ruined the game.”

“I know.” Zeke’s voice was calm and soothing, and his arms still held onto me. I took deep, even breaths and tried to push my anger away. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“What?”

“You need a drink. Let’s go get a drink. I’ve dealt with players like that before. I can give you some advice. Plus, you need to calm down.” He finally pulled his hands away, and I instantly missed his touch. “Come on. I’ll drive.”

I turned around to say something to Cal, but he was already headed my way. He handed me my phone and wallet and then pushed me off in Zeke’s direction. “Go. I’ll clean up here and put your bag in your office.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry.” I was embarrassed to look at Cal. Not just because I’d acted so poorly, but because I was certain that was not what he signed up for when he agreed to take on our team.

“Why are you sorry? I agreed to do this, knowing that I may be walking into a hellstorm.” He put a hand on my head. “Don’t sweat it, Q. I got this.” I nodded, and he continued to push me off. “Now go. Take a breather.”

When I looked back in the direction Zeke had gone, he was standing at his car with the passenger door open, looking back at me. I imagined Alec’s spidey senses were tingling. He wasn’t able to get the night off work for the Wednesday game, so he was going to be upset to hear he missed the coveted asking out for drinks. I walked up to Zeke, and he smiled at me.

“Ready?”

I nodded and grinned back. “Yeah.”

I climbed into the passenger’s seat of Zeke’s car and was immediately surrounded by the smell of a sweet cologne. When Zeke got into the car, the smell got stronger. I’d been so angry out on the field that I didn’t notice it, but now, sitting so close to him with only the middle compartment of the car separating us, it was all I could think about.

We got to a bar far off the beaten path, about fifteen minutes outside of Montpelier. Zeke explained that he knew it because he lived up in Pocatello, about an hour and twenty minutes north of Montpelier. It was a larger city. Apparently, Zeke wasn’t big into the small-town life. We entered the bar, and it wasn’t packed. It was a Wednesday night, after all, so we found a table, and Zeke left to grab us a couple of beers. He set mine in front of me before sitting down at the table. I took a huge swig of the beer and then took a huge breath in and out.

“She’s a nasty one, huh?” Zeke asked.

“She’s bad, but she’s not normally that bad. I don’t know what’s up with her.” I took another sip of my beer. “I think it’s our coach.”

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, already halfway through his own beer.

“Nothing, he’s great, but she’s got this thing about men.” I sipped more. “She hates them.”

Zeke chuckled. “I can’t say that I blame her.” A look of shock crossed my face, and Zeke laughed a bit more. His smile was inviting, if not a bit intoxicating. “What? I know how men have continuously marginalized women throughout the years. That more women don’t hate men is actually kind of surprising.”

I smiled, and he raised an eyebrow as he set his beer bottle to his lips.

“Well, don’t look so shocked that I’m smart.”

I giggled. “Anyway. She’s gotta get over it. She can’t do that.” I started to strangle the neck of my bottle, but Zeke tapped the bottom of it with his bottle, and I loosened my grip. “Thanks.”

I knocked what was left of my beer back, and Zeke wasn’t far behind me. I stood up from the table. “I’ll get the