A Stallion's Touch by Deborah Fletcher Mello Read Free Book Online

Nicholas had learned early on that despite the boatloads of money and time he donated to the numerous organizations he supported, it was the tantrums and flagrant outbursts that kept his name in the headlines and the cameras focused on him. That, along with some seriously impressive plays on the football field, kept his name in everyone’s mouth. It had become just another part of the game that he’d learned to manipulate and play well. The payoff made him an endorsement gold mine as long as he never took it so far that he was an embarrassment to the team, the league or his family.
    As the gym door slammed close behind him, he hurried down the short length of hallway toward the locker rooms. Once inside, he was assaulted by the smell of sour funk. The place reeked of sweat, feet and musk, masked by too much cologne and not nearly enough soap. Nicholas grimaced. Despite the number of times he had come and gone from the space over the years, he had never grown accustomed to the smell.
    His arrival was met with amused looks as the whole team turned to stare in his direction. The team’s head coach stood with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyance creasing his brow. Nicholas’s eyes shifted from side to side as he took a swift inhalation of air.
    â€œYou’re late, Stallion!” the Marauder coach, Marcus Brandt shouted. “Again!”
    Nicholas dropped his bag to the floor in front of his locker. He shrugged his broad shoulders and proffered an apology. “Sorry, Coach. It was unexpected. Something came up.”
    â€œWe’re going to the big game, Stallion. If you actually want to play in that game, you need to get your ass here on time!” the man ranted, spewing a lengthy list of expletives at Nicholas. “You’re lucky I don’t fine your ass. I just so happen to be in a good mood!”
    Nicholas didn’t waste the breath to respond. He wasn’t moved by the profanity-laced diatribe, and he saw no reason to reply in kind. He himself didn’t cuss, his older brother Noah having told them time and time again that a man who needed to punctuate his point with obscenities really didn’t have a point to make. Neither he nor any of his brothers had ever felt a need to sit around with their buddies and trade vulgarities. And it wasn’t often that Nicholas allowed any other man to swear at him without him putting the fool in check. Coach was an exception to that rule. Despite the exchange, he considered the coach a friend and had much respect for the man and his position. But his body language tightened and his eyes narrowed, an air of indignation rising with a vengeance.
    The expression across his face spoke volumes, and the coach suddenly swallowed hard, shifting his gaze around the room to avoid looking directly at the man he was chastising. The tension was palpable, and one of the other players suddenly slammed his helmet against a metal locker.
    â€œLet’s do this!” another teammate screamed, all of them anxious to get out on the field and hit something.
    After another two minutes of a pep talk, the coach dismissed the team, and they headed in the direction of the field. He sauntered slowly to Nicholas, who still stood where he’d stopped. The two eyed each other warily.
    â€œWhy do you have to bust my chops, Stallion?” Coach Brandt questioned. He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyebrows lifted in query. “You are taking us to the Big Game! The Big Game! You’re one of the best damn players in the league, and you need to be setting an example for all the others. Instead, you’re giving me a hard time!”
    Nicholas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He met the look Brandt was giving him with one of his own, wondering why the man felt the song and dance was necessary. Nicholas didn’t always do what was expected of him, but he had never once not done his job and done it well. And Brandt knew that. In the years