her junior year. Not much of her father’s Irish DNA showed itself in her skin tone or body. She normally looked all Cuban, with that shape and hair and smooth skin. But her temper was Coach’s, her blood boiled just as quickly as his always had.
“You okay?” he tried, reaching for her again, catching the water bottle when she shoved it at his chest. “Hey…”
“What are you doing?” Reese held onto the handle of the treadmill, lifting her shirt up to wipe sweat from her neck. “And why the hell are you helping me?”
“I told you,” Ryder started, grabbing a clean towel from the metal shelf to his left. She took it but kept her gaze on him as she dried her face. “In here, on the field, around the kids—I’m your captain.”
“My captain.” He nodded, earning another head shake that he was sure he didn’t deserve. “Captain pendejo.” The insult was spoken low, under her breath as she started to walk away, but Ryder had caught it.
“I’m trying here, Noble,” he told her, hating that she made him feel exactly like a pendejo. “Isn’t that what Gia wants? For us to stop acting like kids?”
“Yeah,” she said, stopping near the free weights, her walk still a little uncertain. “That’s what the boss lady wants.”
“Good.” He followed behind her, worry inching higher in his chest as Reese rested against the column separating the weight room from the indoor track on the other side of the gym. “What were you thinking?” Reese mumbled, but he couldn’t hear her answer and he stepped closer when she covered her face with the towel in her hand. “Noble…you can’t exert yourself for no good reason. You have to be a professional. You have to think of someone else, the team. You aren’t in this on your own anymore. You can’t be selfish.”
Reese went still, pushing against the column with the flat of her palm, and as she moved her head, the gesture slow, Ryder realized he’d said something to piss her off.
“Selfish?” she asked, turning fully to face him.
There was sweat matted around the crown of her head and at her temples. Droplets poured down her neck and her black tank stuck to her like oil. But it was her eyes, those normally hazel eyes, like amber glinting in the sunlight, that stopped Ryder from answering her. The temper rose in her, and it came through those eyes, now the color of driftwood, fierce and flaming as though something lit her from the inside.
“I’m selfish? I have no good reason?”
“I just mean…”
“You pendejo! You can…ay… vete al diablo!”
“Why the hell are you cursing at me?” he asked, voice lifting above her high screech. “Calm the fuck down…”
Reese lifted her hand, waving him into silence, and Ryder stepped back, not eager to be close enough for her to smack him if her temper got the better of her. If she was anything like the girl he’d known ten years ago, that was an almost certainty.
But Reese didn’t clamor for him, trying to smack or slap at him. It seemed, in fact, that her temper had dimmed, and the only expression he could read right was the frustration she felt at whatever offensive thing he’d said. He didn’t know what it was…honestly had no clue.
“I’m trying here,” he told her, voice low, sounding irritated to his own ears. “It’s just stupid for you to be careless.”
“I am not…” She pressed her lips together, looking away from him, hands now on her hips as she scanned around the room. Reese inhaled, still swatting at the sweat on her face before she continued. “This is a ritual. Something I do once a year. I need the exertion. I need the effort.”
“For what?” he asked, frowning when Reese jerked her attention to him. He didn’t get the look she gave him or understand what fresh sin he’d committed in the past five seconds that brought on the glare pulling down the muscles of her mouth. “Fuck’s sake, Reese, what?”
It took her several moments to compose herself, seconds she spent rubbing her hands over her face, into her hair, while she readjusted the elastic holding up her messy bun. Then, Reese sidestepped him, walking toward the exit like he hadn’t asked her a single question.
“This isn’t going to work if you don’t at least attempt to be professional.”
She stopped, feet from the doorway and whipped around, hands tight and fisted at her sides. “This is me being professional. This is