Game On is available at:
After swapping her small town life to work for one of the top soccer teams in the U.S, Leah Walker thought she could finally leave the ghosts of her past behind. However, when she meets serial womanizer, Radleigh McCoy, the memories of her old life come swarming back, and she is forced to ask herself whether she has really changed at all.
Excerpt from Game On:
(This short scene occurs after Radleigh McCoy is injured during a soccer match. Leah is asked by her boss to go and check on him, but her presence isn’t entirely welcome!)
McCoy was lying on his bed wearing boxer shorts and a scruffy grey t-shirt. He'd never looked so rough and yet the glimpse of the tribal tattoo on his biceps still made my pulse quicken, and shifted my attention from the grossness of the room.
Such a shame his muscles were his only redeeming quality.
“Morning,” I said, closing the door behind me. “I’m here to mop your brow.”
McCoy glared at me, his blue eyes lacking their usual sparkle. “No thank you."
“What’s up? You think I’d come in here while you’ve got concussion to taunt you?”
“Why else would you be here?”
“Richard wanted me to check on you. He’s coming by later but he got caught up so you’re stuck with me.”
“Next time tell him to send someone different. Hannibal Lecter has a better bedside manner than you.”
He looked murderous as I sat down on the edge of the bed. Something deep within me wanted to torment him a little bit, but no matter how much of an arse he was, I couldn’t be too cruel when I knew he was suffering.
“Come on, McCoy. I’m here now, you may as well talk to me. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got knocked out last night and wasn’t allowed to rest because Bryce woke me every three hours to make sure I was still alive. How do I look?”
Surprisingly good. Even with dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his normally clean shaven face.
“You look like hell,” I told him.
His eyes narrowed. “You love seeing me like this, don’t you?”
“Like what? You’re concussed, not dying.”
“To your great disappointment.”
Any hopes that maybe a bang on the head would result in him not being such an argumentative prick were fast slipping away.
“Believe it or not,” I said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“You know what? I don’t believe it.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I said, standing up. “I’ll tell Richard you’re fine, and next time he can come and check on you himself!”
I began to walk away but as I reached the door, I turned back. I don’t know what made me do it, but I was just in time to see McCoy’s hand fly up to his head and he squeezed his eyes closed.
The change happened in an instant. He’d been his usual, annoying self, then in the split second I’d turned away, something had happened. I ran back over to the bed and sat down, placing my hand on his arm.
“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to disguise my panic.
“Yeah,” he said, though his voice was strained as if concentrating hard to block out the pain. “I’m fine.”
After a moment or two he relaxed. Me? My heart was still thundering.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I slept badly and sometimes my head gets real painful.”
“Is that supposed to happen?”
He shrugged. “I’m seeing the doctor again later, I’ll find out then.”
“Maybe you should get some sleep. Get into bed.”
“Careful, Leah. People will start to think you care.”
The grogginess in his voice made me a little more compassionate than I would usually have been and I laughed at the truth of his words. “Shut up and do as you’re told.”
With great effort he got to his feet, and I pulled back the covers for him.
“Are you always this bossy?” he asked.
“I’m not bossy. Now stop bloody questioning me and get in.”
With a dramatic sigh, he got into bed and I put the covers over him, like a potty-mouthed Florence Nightingale.
“Try to rest, okay?”
He nodded and closed his eyes again. When I was satisfied he wasn’t in any more pain, I stepped out into the corridor to call Richard.