The Unforgettable Kind

by Melanie Munton

  “I mean, if Grant and John don’t want to go for it…”

  “Please,” Grant scoffs. “We all know I’m out. Viewers think I tend to come off as a know-it-all. KBC won’t want me. And I’m totally fine with that.”

  “They’ll say I’m too grumpy to be entertaining,” John adds dryly. “It works in our segments when we all joke about it, but it won’t for the Super Bowl. You’re the most loveable one out of all of us jackasses, Samantha.”

  “But not the prettiest,” Marcus cuts in, pointing at himself. “So, don’t get too excited.” Then he winks and blows me a kiss.

  My heart swelling with emotion, I turn to Mike. “You good with this?”

  He frowns. “What am I, an asshole?”

  “Well—”

  “That was rhetorical, Babbett.” Mike looks back at me. “You’ve made a name for yourself in this business, Samantha. You know your shit when it comes to the game, and you have a voice for commentating. I can’t think of a better person for the job. And if KBC doesn’t pick you, then they’re a bunch of idiots.”

  My smile is so bright it’s probably blinding. “Thanks, guys. This really means a lot.”

  And it truly does. All sarcasm and smartass-ness aside, I’m fortunate enough to make a living by pursuing my passion, but that doesn’t mean any of this has come easy to me. I’ve devoted countless hours to conducting research and perfecting my particular skill set. I’ve sacrificed having a social life—and unfortunately, a sex life—in pursuit of my dreams. Winning the bid for the commentating position would be the pinnacle of my career goals. Don’t get me wrong, I have tons of other goals, but helping pave the way for other women in sportscasting would be an absolute honor.

  “Now, onto the second announcement,” Mike continues.

  We all know something is up when he opens a new pack of Nicorette gum and pops a white square into his mouth. Shit, this can’t be good.

  “We have a new analyst coming in today. He’s going to join you guys for the afternoon and evening segments to see how he meshes into the program. Want to give him a test run and gauge how viewers respond to him before I bring him on full-time.”

  “Who is he?” Grant asks as I take a sip of my coffee.

  There’s a silent moment of anticipation before Mike answers. “Kade Jennings.”

  My mouthful of coffee is now showered across the table and a little bit on John’s suit.

  No. Freaking. Way.

  “What?” I screech. “Kade Jennings? Are you joking?”

  The entire room has gone silent, aghast at my outburst. Mike stares at me, wide-eyed and wary. “No… Not a fan, Samantha?”

  “Mike, you cannot hire him. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “And why is that?” My head whips around to Marcus to see his amused expression.

  “Because…” I sputter, scrambling for a legitimate reason, fully aware that I’m the only one protesting. “Because what’s he done in the past five years? He hasn’t even been on the scene. He wouldn’t be a good fit.”

  “No, he’s been behind the scenes,” Mike asserts, his voice hardening. “He was an NFL scout for the Dolphins and then for the Giants, and he’s done a lot of guest analyst spots for ESPN. He’s seen the game from all angles and understands it better than most. Not to mention he was a record-breaking wide receiver and Heisman trophy winner at the University of Florida.”

  I know damn well what he did at Florida because I was there. I also know what he’s been doing for the past few years, despite my fervent attempts to snuff out every mention of his name from my memory. It’s like he keeps getting shoved in my face every time I think I’ve gotten over the old hurt and resentment there. Alas, they still linger.

  “But—”

  “Plus,” Mike interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, “the studio executives seem to think his looks will be good for ratings.” He pops another piece of gum into his mouth.

  No, no, no, no!

  Marcus smirks. “Hey, I thought I was the eye candy. And as we’ve established, ‘ol Johnny boy is the comic relief.”

  “Should I even ask what role you think I play here?” Grant grumbles.

  “You mean other than a know-it-all?” John mumbles.

  Marcus slaps Grant on the shoulder, grinning. “Nah. You, my man, are the loveable teddy bear with a heart of gold. Viewers love a family man. And Samantha… Well, there always has to be one pain in the ass, right?”

  Their chuckles are muffled in my ears, sounding a million miles away. I’m still staring at my boss, completely dumbfounded that this is happening. This cannot be my reality right now. My eyes beg Mike to reconsider, even though I know it isn’t his decision. The board overrules him on everything and they clearly want this. My desperation is a lost cause.

  “I can’t do anything about this,” Mike tells me, looking almost sympathetic. “Whatever your problem with Jennings, Samantha, I suggest you deal with it soon because he’ll be here at twelve-thirty for the afternoon segment.”

  Ha! Right. Deal with it.

  And while I’m at it I’ll just squeeze into a size 0 and magically give President Trump a one hundred percent approval rating.

  My eyes slide shut. At twelve-thirty today, my entire life will get turned on its head, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Everything from the past will be dredged up and intertwined with the present.

  I thought my history with Kade was dead and buried, yet I find myself sitting here, going back to the very beginning…

  Chapter Two

  “Legs”

  by ZZ Top

  Back then…

  Kade

  Van Halen blasted through my truck’s speakers, drowning out the sound of drumming fingers against the cracked leather of the steering wheel. My teeth bit into my bottom lip, as if that action alone could erase my frustrations, my dread. The sun was shining through my dirt-streaked windows, heating up the inside of the cab, mocking me with its optimistic cheerfulness.

  The first day at my new school and you’d think I was being shipped off to war with the spectacular stalling I was doing out in the parking lot. But I didn’t figure they’d give the new kid too much grief for being late, so the stalling continued. I tipped my head back, squeezing my eyes shut.

  The new kid.

  I was a junior and suddenly the new kid at some rinky-dink high school in Mason, Georgia, one of the smallest ass towns in the entire state.

  Thanks to my dominance on the football field, I’d been the king at my old school in Atlanta. Texas might have been the mecca of all things football in this country, but Georgians sure worshipped the pigskin, too. And if you could throw, catch, run, or tackle, you basically got the golden treatment until you were handed your diploma.

  This school, though? This town? Who the hell knew what to expect.

  I’d looked up Mason’s football history, and all they had to show for their team’s measly existence was one state championship back in 1968. Over fifty years ago. Which told me two things. One, football wasn’t a priority here. And two, I would have approximately zero things in common with everyone here. Mason was probably full of people who lived for their monthly rotary club meetings and Friday Night Bingo at the VFW. It was the epitome of the clichéd one-stoplight town featured in ninety-five percent of all country songs.

  Seriously. There was only one stoplight in this entire godforsaken town.

  Not exactly where I’d seen myself for the next two years.

  What college scouts were going to pay attention to a player from Podunk, Georgia, population 2,146? I might as well have thrown away any future I had in football the second the moving truck backed into our driveway.

  But this was what Dad needed. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

  We couldn’t have stayed in our house in Atlanta. Dad had never liked the big city life, anyway. He’d only lived there for Mom and well, cheating on him with multiple men she’d met through the internet had s
ort of put a damper on their marriage. Now, the whole city felt tainted with her betrayal. And although I was pouting like a petulant child over our new life in small town USA, I was done with our old life, too. Everything in our old house, everything I was surrounded by, was just another reminder of how she had abandoned both of us, her lies shredding our family apart in a way that could never be mended.

  So, here we were. Dad with a new, better job at the local plant, the town’s largest employer. And me, at a new school, with new colors on my jersey, and a piss-poor new attitude.

  I wonder what the girls will be like here.

  Not to sound like a complete tool, but I had my pickings at my old school. With over a thousand students, there had been a variety of options in the girl department. But with the entire student population at Mason High totaling only a few hundred, the dating pool was going to be a hell of lot smaller. Not to mention there’d be more competition for the hot girls. Not that I was in the market for a girlfriend. I didn’t need any more emotional upheaval in my life right now. I needed to concentrate on one thing and one thing only: football.

  Get out of the truck, you pansy.

  With one last exhale, I snagged my backpack and reached for the door handle.

  But before I could open it, loud rock music from behind me caught my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I glimpsed an older blue Chevy Malibu swerving recklessly through the lot, finally screeching to a stop several spaces down from me. With no cars in between us, I had a front row view of the occupant, but all I could make out through the window was that it was a she. There was a flurry of activity in the car, her blond hair whipping around wildly as she scrambled about in the cramped space. Suddenly, she opened the door in a whirlwind of—

  Legs.

  That’s all I saw, all I could focus on as she moved to exit the vehicle. Legs that went on and on and oooon. Creamy white legs that weren’t translucent and pale but weren’t covered in a golden tan. Just somewhere in the middle of perfection.

  As my eyes traveled upward, I wondered where the legs were going to end and finally spotted a cheerleading skirt. A sliver of disappointment creeped in. I didn’t have the best track record with cheerleaders. In my experience, they were mostly spoiled, vapid little brats who thought teasing a guy was an amusing sport and didn’t know the band AC/DC from an air conditioning unit.

  All thoughts of disappointment fled my mind as more was revealed. Long blond hair, wild and free of product. The face of an angel that not only lacked makeup but also the need for it, her cheeks already flushed and flawless. As far as I could tell, lipstick would only take away from those naturally pink lips. Her eyelashes looked fake, long and lustrous, but I had a distinct feeling they were real. Everything about this girl was just naturally stunning.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, it was too damn hot in this truck.

  The longer I stared, the more fascinated I became.

  The more I appreciated, the more I wanted.

  She piled books into her arms, threw straps of a bag over her shoulder, and wiggled to the edge of her seat. Then her shoulders slumped when she looked down at her lap, and she started throwing everything back onto her passenger seat. I had no idea what she was looking at or why she was upset, but I felt a grin spread across my face when I saw a string of profanity leave her lips. Her head darted around, as if looking to see if anyone was watching her.

  Pathetically, I ducked lower in my seat.

  I couldn’t have torn my eyes away from her if a bomb had exploded right next to my face. Thankfully, her gaze glided right over my truck. She began to pull at her legs, which I then realized were encased in nude-colored tights. I remembered my mom always griping about runners in her hose when she used to work in an office.

  Holy mother of hell.

  She was taking them off.

  Right there in her car, without knowing I watched every move she made as drool pooled on the seat below my open mouth. As if she had done this a thousand times, she quickly slipped off her shoe and ripped the hosiery down her legs—

  Fucking Christ.

  A flash of pink winked at me underneath that damn short skirt. My groan filled the space of my confined cab. She was wearing fucking pink panties, and now I was hard as steel for my first day of school. What torture was this?

  My dream girl finally got the things off, chucking them into her backseat with a comical look of disgust. She once again loaded down her arms with textbooks and stumbled out of her car, throwing her arm up to lock her doors as an afterthought. As if under a spell, my gaze stalked her across the parking lot as she literally ran away, all flouncing skirt and swaying hips.

  It was like I’d been sucking on cotton balls, my mouth was that dry.

  If she wasn’t moving so fast, I could have appreciated the sight of her tight ass bouncing around in that skirt a little more.

  Wait…she was leaving.

  And I hadn’t gotten her name or anything. Granted, in a school this size I could probably learn it from the first person I asked, but something felt critical about chasing after her right then. And when I lost sight of her after she bounded through the school’s front doors, I finally snapped out of the daze her sudden appearance had thrown me in.

  I was out of my truck and through those front doors so fast you’d think I was a running back instead of a wide receiver. It was like a lightning bolt of adrenaline had shot through me, alighting every one of my senses, sparking every synapses in my brain. I entered a hallway that was lined on both sides with metal lockers and frantically searched for the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

  Nothing.

  There was a sign on the wall up ahead that pointed toward the main office where I would check in with the secretary and get my class schedule. But I couldn’t have cared less about anything academic. I just wanted to find her. Know her. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until I at least got her name.

  But it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

  She had disappeared, probably into one of the many classrooms down the hallway. I had half a mind to whip open every single one of those doors until I laid eyes on her face again, but figured that was maybe a little too extreme. Wild-eyed maniac probably wasn’t the best first impression I could make on her. Choking back my roar of frustration, I turned in the direction of the office, my proverbial tail between my legs.

  I didn’t get very far.

  My body suddenly jolted sideways as something soft and smelling of cherries slammed into me. I righted myself and spun around with fire in my eyes to rip whoever this was a new one. That’s when my eyes met striking green, apologetic ones.

  Her.

  Jesus. She was even more gorgeous up close, however that was possible.

  Those green eyes were wide as she took me in, skating down my front in a blatant, yet innocent, perusal of my body. It was as if she didn’t realize what she was doing and couldn’t have stopped herself if she had. The hitch in her breath I heard when her eyes rested back on my face did something to me. If I affected her even a fraction of how she affected me, I’d be tempted to get down on one knee right now and profess my eternal love.

  What the hell was that voice inside my head?

  Whoever was thinking those things, it sure as shit wasn’t me. I didn’t chase after girls like a panting dog.

  She must be some kind of witch.

  It was then that I noticed the door she just burst out of was a bathroom. I also noticed she’d put on makeup. Though she certainly didn’t need it, I’ll admit that whatever shimmery stuff she put on her eyes did make them sparkle like tiny emeralds. She hadn’t touched her hair, though, leaving it untamed and free. I liked that. A lot.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said on a rushed exhale. “I’m late for class and wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

  And a southern accent to boot.

  Hot damn, I’ve struck the motherload.

  I bent to help her pick up the things sh
e’d dropped when we collided. “No problem. I’m no more lost now than I was five seconds ago.”

  She caught the smile I shot her way, causing a blush to crawl over her cheeks. That tinge of pink reminded me what she was wearing underneath her skirt. What she had unknowingly flashed at me. That moment marked my new affinity for pink undergarments.

  “Are you new here?”

  We both stood back up as I passed her a thin green notebook. The color almost matched her eyes, though it wasn’t nearly as pretty. “Yeah. First day. I take it it’s not yours?”

  Those plump lips stretched over perfectly straight white teeth when she smiled. I swear my heart ceased beating for a good five seconds.

  “Nope. Lived here my whole life. Unfortunately,” she added wryly, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Sam. Short for Samantha, but if you want to make your first friend here, don’t ever call me that.”

  Ah, a sense of humor. Because she needed another attractive quality.

  I wrapped my fingers around her much softer, more delicate ones. “Noted, Sam. I’m Kade. Nice to meet you.”

  I reluctantly shoved my hand in my jeans pocket when she pulled hers away, hoping it would dull the electricity I felt shoot up my arm when we touched. And if her shy expression was anything to go by, she felt it, too.

  “You’re big,” she blurted. Her eyes snapped to mine, looking mortified. “I mean, you’re tall. Do you play football?”

  My lips twitched but I held back a smile, nodding instead. “Wide receiver. I’m a junior, just transferred in from Atlanta.”

  She froze, a look of awe taking over her features. “Wait, you’re Kade Jennings? All-state wide receiver from Booker High? You broke the state record for most yards gained in a season last year.”

  I wondered if my reputation would have reached a small town like this. Though I was mildly shocked that a girl knew any of my stats. Usually, they were more interested in hooking up with me and sinking their claws in afterward. I wasn’t interested in being anyone’s territory, thank you very much. Although I strangely didn’t mind the prospect of this girl—Sam—claiming me as hers. Not at all.