Race For Love Read Free

trainers and the physical therapy staff. Derek was on the athletic training side. And while he worked with the majority of the team, the really prestigious spot was working with the starting lineup. Keeping that crew physically healthy and ready to play was paramount to the franchise's success. And he wanted to be part of that legacy.
    "The work I did on Colton Jakes brought him back stronger than ever and weeks ahead of schedule. And then what I did with LeDarius. Man, he was a head case every time he had to take a three. He never trusted that his shoulder would hold. One month with me and he's unstoppable."
    Zeke shook his head. "I'm glad you're so modest about it too."
    Derek grinned. "Well, you gotta know your strengths right?" That, and he made it a point not to be a fuck-up. The way he saw it, fuck-ups had folks all over their shit all the time. He liked his independence. If he kept proving himself, good things would continue happening and he'd have even more autonomy. Before he knew it, he'd have a head trainer job and he could write his own ticket.
    "Must be nice being a pretty boy with the Midas touch. You're one lucky bastard."
    His success had nothing to do with a Midas touch or luck. He might have gotten some lucky breaks, but he worked hard. His dad always said there was no such thing as luck. Just the right opportunity at the right time and some added hard work. Derek knew he'd grabbed some good opportunities. But he'd also put in the effort. Now this was his chance to work in the spotlight.
    "Then it's a good thing I don't believe in luck."
    Zeke nodded as he grabbed their roster for the day. Unlike most rehab centers where there was a lot of psychological work to be done to get people in the mode to push through the pain, these guys were all elite athletes. For Zeke and Derek, the hard part was keeping them from pushing too hard to come back. They had absolutely zero understanding of their bodies' limits.
    "Man, that swagger of yours, it's blinding. We could bottle it up and sell it. I'll call it ‘White Boy Charm.’"
    Derek grinned. "I like it."
    Zeke rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."
    Derek tossed his stuff into his locker then slapped his friend on the back. "Wish me luck, bro."
    Zeke's killer smile flashed. "I would, but you already have the luck of the Irish."
    "Ain't that right?"
    In the elevator, Derek leaned back against the glass and watched the passersby on each floor through the clear glass. The Jaguar Building was a sight to behold. All steel and glass and sleek modern fixtures. His first time in here he'd nearly shit himself. It was like every childhood dream come true all at once.
    He'd lied to Zeke. He was a little nervous. There was a chance the AGM would tell him that he was still too young, too inexperienced. After all, he was only twenty-four.
    Stop. You put in the work. And he had. Once his dreams of playing had been shattered, he'd taken a double course load to graduate early and do a dual masters in Athletic Training and Physical Therapy. If he couldn't play anymore, he at least wanted to be as close to basketball as humanly possible.
    When he reached the executive floor, one of the assistants led him into the smallest conference room. Even though the room was only big enough to seat five or so comfortably, it was outfitted with a solid oak center table and Aeron chairs.
    He didn't have to wait more than five minutes before the door opened, but instead of Royce, Kallie Wintor stood in front of him. What the fuck? He hadn’t seen her in a month, since the night they broke up. "Kallie? What the fuck are you doing here?" A girl sneaking onto the premises was not new. But usually they were here for the players.
    She tilted her chin up. "Your meeting is with me."
    The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, giving him the advance warning of danger. "Kallie, I don't have time for this. I have a meeting. If you don't leave on your own, I'll call security."
    Kallie shook her head, her blue