CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 by Chance, Jacob (digital e reader TXT) 📕

Nadia rises to her toes and gently presses her warm lips to my skin. The simple contact sends a pleasant hum of awareness traveling through my body.

Nadia backs away, and a hand on my arm pulls me away before I can see her expression.

I’m handed a putter and led to an area where I’m photographed with the local city officials before being sent to the first hole on the mini course.

The cheap putter I’m using is about a foot too short for me and has me missing the custom one sitting in my golf bag at home. I’m forced to bend way over, folding myself up like a beach chair, just to keep it at ground level.

The first putt is a straight shot and it disappears inside the hole. Off to a good start, I move to the next part of the course. This time, the golf ball has to go through an archway half the distance to the hole.

As I set up my shot, it occurs to me that I’m taking this way too seriously. You don’t make it in professional football if you’re not a competitive person by nature. That side of me isn’t something I can turn on and off. No matter what I’m doing, I want to crush it. I want the lowest score on this course and I’m going to do my best to make sure it happens.

The second hole goes as well as the first, and I find my gaze wandering over to Nadia to see if she’s watching. She is. Our eyes meet and we both smile. Just as I’m about to look away, I notice Levi sidling up to her. Seeing him standing next to her and talking with her irks me. I step away and the wolves move in.

Still feeling annoyed, I flub my next putt. Anger hits and it’s all I can do not to chuck the piece of shit putter skyward. Or break it over Levi’s hard head. It’s only Nadia’s encouraging smile directed my way that soothes the brewing storm stirring inside of me.

Taking a calming breath, I remind myself to focus on what I’m doing. I’m able to make it through the next few more complicated holes, only adding six more strokes.

Glancing over at the scoreboard, I notice I’m in good shape as long as I can keep my focus.

Maybe I should avoid looking in Nadia’s direction until I’m finished with my game. It’s not that she’s a distraction for me, but watching other guys flirt with her will be. I know she’s completely on board with being my fake girlfriend, and that means she wouldn’t disrespect me by flirting back. So why did I get so bothered that Levi was talking to her?

My eyes sweep over and find him still talking with her. A spark of anger flares. My chest tightens, making it difficult to breathe, like a vise is squeezing my lungs. I force myself to look away and drag air in through my nose. Get a grip. This is ridiculous.

My brief self pep talk works, and the rest of the holes go better than I expected. I win by seven strokes and I’m given a gold cup to hold while more pictures are taken, but I’m not allowed to take it home. My competitors congratulate me and more photos are taken. My mouth is dry and stiff from smiling so much.

Nadia appears at my side and throws her arms around me, pleasantly surprising me. “You were awesome.”

I hug her back, savoring the sensation of having her in my arms. “Thank you. That was fun.”

“You looked like you were having a good time,” she says.

If she only knew that Levi almost had a golf club permanently attached to his head, she wouldn’t be saying this.

“Can I get a picture of you both?” a photographer asks as he takes a continuous stream of pictures of us.

I laugh. “Aren’t you already?”

His shoulders twitch with an almost indiscernible shrug. “Yeah, it goes with the job, and pictures are money. But I’d like to get one of you posed.”

I look to Nadia for her approval and she nods. Slipping my arm around her, I curl my fingers around her hip. Feeling proprietary, I tug her closer, until we’re connected with the curve of her hip against my outer thigh. Placing her hand on my chest, she curls her torso into mine. I’m hyper aware of the side of her breast resting against the top of my rib cage. Judging by her stuttered exhale, she is too.

Knowing I’m not the only one affected by our close proximity is screwing with my head. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be, like what it would be like to kiss the fullness of her bow shaped mouth. Or what her naked tit would feel like cupped in my hand.

As soon as the photographer finishes snapping a slew of pics, I drop my arm from around Nadia. Looking troubled by my abrupt release of her, she steps back until we’re no longer connected.

Catching hold of her hand, I lead her from the mini golf facility to my truck. We’re both silent as I pull from the parking lot onto the main road. I’m not sure why Nadia’s being quiet, but I know my reason. My body’s reaction to her, and the troubling thoughts that ensued as a result, shook me to my core.

She’s my agent and someone I care about platonically. I can’t let our fake relationship, or the time we’re forced to spend together, cloud things. Even though we need to hold hands in public and act interested in one another, I won’t lose sight of why we’re doing this in the first place.

I must not cross the line between a business relationship and a personal one, no matter how attractive Nadia is. Boundaries and limits have never been my strong suit, but in this case, they need to be. I’ll do anything to