When the ball comes to me, I send it straight back without breaking stride.
“That’s how it’s done,” Hark calls out. “And again.”
“Show-off,” Nate mutters.
As the sun moves high in the sky, the drills ramp up in complexity, moving from simple passes to cut-outs, overlaps, and kick chases. Coach sets up a defensive line for us to run against, testing our timing and decision-making. I dive onto a grubber from Hark, popping up with the ball and a grin.
“You’ve got to stop making it look so easy,” Nate says, shaking his head. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
“It’s not my fault you’ve got two left feet,” I shoot back, “and both of them end up in your mouth.”
I’m on fucking fire and everything I touch turns to gold. The banter keeps flowing, but I feel the guys watching me a little closer than usual. When Cooper sides up, grinning like a kid with a secret, I know something’s coming and it’s not all about the game. I’m fucking bouncing instead of running on the field, and it’s as if hooking up with Emma has reset my world—today is just a dress rehearsal for the way I want to impress the panties off my girl tomorrow.
“Alright, spill,” he says, keeping his voice low enough not to draw Coach’s attention. Not that Bronx can give me shit—he banged his kid’s teacher after his ex dumped him for his best friend. Relationships are complicated and … wait … did I just compare me and Emma to a relationship? Well, fuck me, I shrug to myself. There are worse things than being in a grown-up relationship with a woman who makes me count the minutes until I see her again instead of counting the minutes until she’s gone.
“Awe, Coops. You know my job description includes catching the ball, not spilling it.”
He doesn’t give up. “Then, spill the tea as Kenzie would say. You’re the broody, moody bastard and it scares the fuck out of us when you’re practically glowing like a blushing bride.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, focusing on the ball in my hands. “And who gave you a vagina—spilling the tea? You’ve been watching Kenzie’s shows for too long.”
“Don’t play dumb, bro,” he insists, ignoring my deflection. “You’ve been smiling all morning, and that’s not normal. Don’t tell me Kenzie or your agent set you up with someone who isn’t terrifying?”
I remember Emma’s text, suggesting she could be terrifying, and she is—to my sanity and womanizing past. I’ve never cared about my sanity, and my balls have already decided that womanizing is a thing of the past. They want to belong to Emma, and I’m not gonna disagree. I hide it behind a shrug. “Nothing to do with theFavorite Bachelorbullshit. I’ll turn up where I’m told and smile at whoever is waiting. It’s a job and I’m treating it like a job.”
“Then what?” Dawson joins in. Seriously, men gossip more than women. “Or should I say, who?”
“Alright, alright.” It’s time to spread some breadcrumbs that I can remind him of later. “I caught up with an old friend, that’s all.”
Cooper raises an eyebrow. “Anold friend,“ he repeats, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Or a sexy friend who tracked you down?”
“Does it matter?” I allow just enough of a smile slip through to keep him guessing.
He tries to pin me with a knowing look, but before he can press further, Coach Bronx claps his hands and calls us back for a final run-through of our defensive plays.
“Let’s go!” he barks. “Keep it tight, keep it smart. This is where games are won and lost.”
The intensity ratchets up as we move through the drills, but my good mood doesn’t waver. If anything, it sharpens my focus. By the time Coach blows the final whistle, I feel ready—not justfor the game tomorrow, but for seeing Emma in a couple of hours. I have time to shower, change—should I shave? Would she like flowers, or would they be too much? Does my stubble burn or tingle? Things I can’t wait to find out.
As we head off the field, Cooper jogs up beside me, still grinning. “So, this old friend of yours,” he says, keeping his voice low. “You gonna bring her to the game tomorrow? I can ask Kenzie to babysit her while she watches your little body get smashed up on the field.”
“Nah,” I reply, keeping it casual but truthful. “We haven’t made plans to catch up at the game.”
He gives me a skeptical look but lets it go.
As I hit the showers, my thoughts drift to Emma, and I have to turn my body to hide my erection until it fades. Fuck. The last thing I need my team to see is a boner—there are just some things that happen in a shower that a guy can never live down.
Fifty minutes until coffee. Not that I’m counting.
I get to the coffee shop just before three and go straight to the same table I sat at with Emma yesterday.Our table. I’ve never shared anouranything with a woman before. The lunch traffic is over, and either we’ve missed the afternoon coffee rush, or it hasn’t started yet. Taking the hiding in plain sight to another level, I’m wearing a hoodie pulled over a baseball cap, and not one item of clothing screams rugby league player or the Southern Mavericks. All I need are dark glasses, and I’d be right at home at any poker table.
Training left me restless, with more than just pre-game nerves. Between Dawson’s nonstop trash talk and Nate’s relentless energy, I barely kept up. And Cooper? He’s a smart mother-fucker when he wants to be and takes his Captainresponsibility too seriously. I mean, sure, I’d usually hang out after training and ensure tomorrow we have tight team chemistry that no one wants to fuck with, but when I left the locker room early, muttering something about “needing to clear my head,” Cooper didn’t buy it. With a look, he put our conversation on hold but since he is Kenzie’s partner, can I use him to get Kenzie on side? I’ve already sounded her out. But I’ll need Emma’s agreement to start putting names to any plan.
The bell above the front door jingles, and even dressed down in a simple workout hoodie and leggings, Emma lights up the room. It’s as if what’s left of the sun bounces off the glass windows and cabinetry, just to illuminate her face. If the world can see what I see, it should be fucking easy for Kenzie to sell afootballer and the cheerleaderromance. But we still need to do it in a way where Emma keeps her job.
Her eyes scan the tables until they land on me. I return her genuine smile with one just as big. Yeah, I should try playing things cool, but my body reacts with Emma-induced muscle memory as she heads my way.
“Dylan,” she whispers, and I quickly stand to kiss her. Not the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation I want to give her, but enough of a brush that she knows I want to do more, but am keeping myself under control. “Hmm,” she purrs, and the sound bounces between what I think is my heart, and my balls.
