Free Team Niklas (The Saints Team #3) by Ally Adams Page B

was
something,” he said. “You’re different, you’re full of energy and you do your
own thing, have your own style. That’s the best way I can describe it.”
    “I think it was just an electric shock from the carpet
in the office,” I reminded him. “What if you’re wrong?”
    “Then I’m wrong,” he said. “But I’m not.” He went to
reach for me and I pushed him away.
    “Boiling water,” I said, making his coffee. “Just stay
clear, not worth the risk.”
    He shook his head at me.
    “I learned something about you before the press
conference,” I said.
    I noticed Nik stiffen… what did he think I was going
to say?
    “What’s that?” he tried to say casually but his eyes
gave him away.
    “I noticed you are not six-foot-five like your player
sheet and stats online says. You were standing next to The Russian and you were
a couple of inches shorter,” I said, raising an eyebrow in his direction.
    Nik visibly relaxed and breathed out. He smiled at me.
“Shayne got it wrong on the stats sheet when he was doing all my early profile
stuff… translation problem.”
    “Uh huh,” I said, suspiciously. “And why haven’t we
fixed it?”
    Nik grinned before answering. “Because Lucas and the
boys wanted to leave it… it cheeses The Russian off—he likes to think he’s the
tallest in the club.”
    I smiled and shook my head. “You guys are so
competitive. So what are you?”
    “Six-foot-three, plenty big enough,” he said,
suggestively.
    I bit my lower lip as I stopped to study him and gave
him just the hint of a nod.
    “I’m changing it,” I said.
    “Spoil sport.” He took the coffee from me and thanked
me. “You look very cute. You have a good body,” he said, his gaze travelling
over the black leggings and black hoodie I had changed into after my workout.
My white socked feet were probably the highlight.
    I laughed. “You’re so direct. Well, Nik, you have a
good body too.”
    “Want to see it?” he asked.
    More than you’ll ever know buddy , but I didn’t
say that. I smiled at him. “Have you eaten?”
    “I wasn’t hungry before.”
    “Crap, Nik, bad, very bad,” I scolded him, “you’ve got
to eat, you can’t train the amount you do if you’re not balancing your diet. The
coach and Doc would kick your butt if they knew that you haven’t eaten, then
kick mine.”
    He shrugged. “It was a disrupted week.”
    I sighed. “I know, I’m sorry after the nose bleed
incident, and the punch, and the eviction from the press conference.”
    “The waves weren’t good either,” he said, with the
hint of a smile. “But that wasn’t your fault.” He moved closer to me again and
this time I let him. There was this weird current running between us. I swear
all my hairs were standing on end. He put a hand either side of me on the
counter and looked down at me. “Sah-sha, I would take a black eye for you any
day as long as I was your boyfriend.”
    I smiled up at him. Tall, all that muscle, tough on
the ground, gentle in bed allegedly, and so sure of what he wants. I’m not sure
I’ve met anyone like Nik; I think we were both loners, only he was more
trusting than I was.
    “I don’t want you ever taking a hit for me Nik. Now
focus, the rest of the team would have eaten the equivalent to a small Italian
village in pasta by now—you have to eat, have to have some protein and
carbohydrates,” I said, giving him a lecture.
    “I’m feeling hungrier now,” he agreed. “See, you’re
good for me already. Have you eaten?”
    “I had a liquid dinner,” I said, nodding towards the
remaining chardonnay in my glass.
    He frowned. “Not good enough. Come on, we’ll go get
something.”
    “I have ingredients here, we can cook,” I said.
“Homemade will be better for you.” I went to my pantry and pulled out some
whole-wheat pasta, a tin of tomatoes and pointed to the freezer, directing Nik
to get the ground beef, and we got to work.
    “You have a lot in your freezer for a