barely noticeable when Kona bent down to meet the plastic straw Gia offered him. He nodded a thanks and Gia went on to the next player, offering water and dry towels to each one she faced.
Uncle Mike had gotten Gia this job because she’d asked. She wanted in on the career he’d started at the small New Orleans university. She wanted away from New York and her mother’s expectations. Gia would never be content with the lives her brothers had made for themselves—college, marriage, kids. That was all. That was it. Being the youngest of five made things easier, she figured. Her parents had grandchildren, lots of them. But her mother still wanted Gia to stick close to home, marry a nice Italian boy, preferably one she’d known her entire life, one whose family her mother would approve of, and then hurry up with the job of getting married at St. Anthony’s and immediately start popping out babies.
But her mother didn’t understand Gia. No one did.
She wanted to break glass ceilings. She wanted to be around the game and if she couldn’t play it, she’d direct it. Getting there would start for Gia right on that field with the only man her parents thought could look after her: her father’s brother, Mikey.
But, she had to start at the bottom.
“Anymore in that bottle?” she heard, and immediately held her breath. Her nod was easy, quick and she turned to face Luka, avoiding the look he gave her when she offered him the water. He drank deep, went in for more and when Gia started to pull the bottle away, Luka held her wrist, keeping her and that bottle close to his open mouth.
Shit. Balls. Damn.
Luka Hale.
Gia wondered if he knew what he did to her with one look. She wondered if the looks that seemed to always get shifted her way were done on purpose. Did Luka plan them? Did he even realize they moved over his face?
She doubted he knew the impact he had on her. She doubted he even knew who she was.
She cleared her throat, taking half a step back when he released her hand. “You good?” she asked, not bothering to look at his face. She caught his nod and moved on to the next player, aware that he was just behind her.
Gia wasn’t some stupid, simple girl horny for a player. She saw the work they did. She might not be on that field, but she understood the game. She saw the struggle and heart it took to make champions come alive. She wasn’t there as decoration or angling to attach herself to some player that might luck up and make it to the NFL.
But she damn sure wasn’t blind, and though she was barely eighteen, she wasn’t so innocent. Her body recognized what it liked, what it wanted and from the second Uncle Mikey led her onto the field to offer dry towels and cold water to his players, Gia had noticed Luka Hale.
“Yo, over here.” She heard, spotting a player whose name she didn’t know as he waved at her. The entire team was focused on the field, watching Mitchell Williams line up a second drive toward the field goal, but Gia only noticed Luka behind her and to her left, standing next to his twin as they watched the game.
The thirsty player, like Luka, like all the players, ignored Gia when she offered him a drink and she knew why. They were focused. The game was a close one. Besides, the hat Gia wore—dark blue and nearly covering her eyes and her black hair threaded through the opening in the back, along with the baggy shorts and team polo she wore, didn’t exactly flatter her figure. She was shapeless, sexless in this getup, exactly, she suspected, as her uncle had planned.
“Don’t bother the players. Do not get friendly,” he’d warned her, promising he’d arranged an internship the next semester with the Athletic Director. She wanted to learn the business of football, but Mikey wanted her to earn the opportunity first. She didn’t mind. Even his unnecessary lecture to keep away from the players didn’t bother her so much. Until, that is, she’d spotted Luka Hale on the practice field, calling her over for a shot of water at the beginning of the season.
She’d been unable to do much more than shoot a spray of water into his mouth and gawk at him. His eyes were slanted and black. The bridge of his nose