Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,22

source of steadiness for the team this season, I think that should be praised.” Colleen’s lips are blood red from her makeup, and it’s distracting.

The past few weeks have been uneventful, which is just how I like it. We play games; we win most and lose others. The media still picks at the scandal in most postgame interviews, but a lot of the infamy has died down, and I can avoid it most days.

Our team is gelling a bit better, and I’ve grown closer to Walker, and Clark. We often grab beers after road games, or play cards on our nights off in Packton. Otherwise, I spend most of my time alone. When we play in San Francisco, I drive up and stay with Ronnie and Bryant for the night, which eases my soul a bit.

But I’ve always been a loner. When you grow up without a family, without any roots, it’s hard to form attachments even when you live in a place for a long while. I have no one to celebrate milestones or holidays with, and I’ve generally been okay with that. Though watching the Callahans work together and spend so much time around family—a sight that’s unavoidable if you’re a Pistons team member—leaves a hollow sort of ache in my chest.

Especially when I watch Colleen. She has an intimate closeness with almost every single person who works in the stadium. From her blood relatives to the janitorial staff who cleans out our locker room, the general manager knows everyone on a first name basis. She’s here from the time I arrive on practice and game days, and I typically see her car in the parking lot when I’m leaving.

It’s difficult to ignore her presence, to turn a blind eye to the way she warms up a room every time she walks into it. Colleen Callahan is a consummate professional, but her easy likability and top-notch listening skills draw people in and make them feel comfortable.

I swore to myself I’d hate any Callahan on sight, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to not only not hate her, but not fall a little bit under her spell.

“So, you’re saying you’re going to bid on me?” My voice sounds foreign with its slight hint of charm.

Colleen looks as shocked as I feel, though an adorable smile curls her full lips up. “Well, Mr. Swindell, I don’t bid. That would be a conflict of interest.”

Something about the way Clark was making eyes at her got under my skin, and I can’t help the flirty nature that’s coming out of me. It’s been a long time since I spoke to a woman in any sort of pursuing nature, and maybe it’s the scotch. Maybe it’s her dress, or the way that dark makeup is doing something to my insides. Or maybe I’m just fed up with watching this enigmatic woman walk around and not being able to do anything about how she unconsciously catches my attention.

I shrug, raising my eyebrow at her. “Sometimes conflicts can be a good thing. You know … if you’re interested.”

Aliens must have taken over my body, or maybe it’s the feel of the room tonight, but we’re about to spark a fire. I feel it, low in my gut, the kindling of the embers.

“Again, I don’t bid. But …” Colleen looks around, biting her lip in a way that makes my balls ache. “If I did, I might open my checkbook for a night out with you.”

There is a squeak on the end of her words, as if she surprised even herself with how saucy she’s being. In the grand scheme of male-female courting rituals, dating, hookups, whatever you want to call it … what we’re doing is so PG that it can barely even be considered flirting. But at the same time, there is an X-rated undertone.

“I would have liked to see that.” My smile hides a hint of the devil in it.

Someone calls her name from across the room, and she turns her head slightly, acknowledging whoever it is. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go rub elbows. General manager duties call.”

“Of course. Have a good rest of your night, Colleen.”

She gives me a shy smile before turning to walk across the room.

And that’s when I see the back of the dress. I almost shove a fist in my mouth to keep the low growl from coming out of my throat.

Her dress ties at the nape of her neck, and then is completely open