His Best Nightmare

Chapter Eight

"No fighting, no slacking off, if your coach tells you to do something you do it, immediately. I want no shit talking, I want your absolute best behavior, or I swear Kingston you and I are both going to find out if a soccer ball can be shoved up someones ass, understood" I snapped as I stormed next to Kal towards the practice field. 

My eyes scanning over all the information that was coming through on my cell phone, as we made our way there. 

"You do know that I am a 27 year old man" he snapped, as we continued. 

I didn't even look up, "who acts all of seven. Have we covered all the bases? You do know that media is covering this practice, so if you do anything besides kick a ball and smile, I'm going to kick you in the face" I stated, still reading the itinerary for today. 

Kal's hand pulled on my shoulder for the tenth time in the past ten minutes, "yes, you've said you'll punish me if something goes wrong, I know. Also, you do realize that was the tenth wall you were about to kiss in the past five minutes, dove?" he asked slowly removing his hand from my shoulder. 

I wasn't even paying attention to him, as the sun beamed down on us from the field, I watched a strangely attractive group of men, slowly jog their way around the large field. 

I smiled up at Kal who was grimacing at the field, "now go make me proud, kick all the balls hard and play nice with the other boys" I mocked him as he sent me a dead look. 

He muttered something before walking onto the field, I watched him drop his duffle bag, pull off his sweat shirt and quickly jog to catch up with his teammates. 

Right on time. 

My eyes caught sight of an extremely muscled man standing on the field, a whistle hanging on his neck, and his face set into a hard glare as he watched the men run. 

I quickly made my way to him. 

"Coach Ross?" I asked, drawing his attention away from the men and on to me. 

His eyes swept up my body quickly, giving me a once over. 

I was dressed basic, in a pair of dark jeans and a cropped sweat shirt, with sneakers on. My hair pulled back into a high bun. 

"Can I do for you, lass?" a thick Scottish accent assaulted me. 

The mans eyes no longer even on me, as he went back to watching his players like a hawk. 

The man was attractive, long brown hair, a sharp face, a gorgeous green eyes, that seemed to glare more than anything. 

I gave him a tight smile, "I'm Kingston's new handler" I stated calmly. 

He let out a choked laugh, "you?" he turned back to me, eyes alight in amusement, "no offense, lass, but you'll be more of a distraction for the boy than anything" he chuckled. 

I tried not to immediately attack this man. 

I stared him down, "I take my job very seriously, sir-"

"Coach. And I'm sure the other twenty lassies that came here to handle Kingston did as well. I was told that you were going to be the best in the business? Not some bonnie lassy who shaped like an eight. The boy needs a hard hand, a man" he snorted, looking down at me. 

I stared unblinkingly at the Scottish giant, who was towering over top of me. 

I smiled, pulling my shades out of my purse, and slipping them on to my face, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared up at the Coach who was about to find my foot down his throat.