Lucky Catch: A Quick Snap Novella

by Lea Coll

  Lucky Catch

  Lea Coll

  Contents

  Lucky Catch

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  The Quick Snap Novella Collection

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books By Lea Coll

  LUCKY CATCH

  A Quick Snap Novella

  By Lea Coll

  LUCKY CATCH

  A Quick Snap Novella

  Lea Coll

  Copyright © 2020 by Lea Coll

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is greatly appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by Evident Ink

  Editing by Heart Full of Ink

  Proofreading by Virginia Carey

  Cover Design by Kari March Designs

  Cover Photography by Wander Aguiar

  Published by Lady Boss Press, Inc.

  To Kristen Proby for this amazing opportunity to write a football romance in her world.

  Chapter 1

  Gavin

  The three-hundred-yard shuttle test. Twelve repetitions of twenty-five-yard sprints. I’d known it was coming. I’d trained for this, but the expectation that came with the name stitched on the back of my jersey was heavier than my shoulder pads.

  In my peripheral, I saw several members of the press hanging over by the fence. I blocked it out. I was here to get a starting position. Nothing else mattered. I wasn’t Brooks Keller’s son or Jake Keller’s younger brother. I’d gotten here on my merit. The reporters waiting for me to screw up would be disappointed.

  “Gavin Keller,” one of the many coaches yelled as he looked up from his clipboard.

  I cleared my mind of any doubts or thoughts of anything other than running the fastest I’d ever run. When he hit the stopwatch, I took off like a shot.

  On the last rep, the timer beeped when I crossed the line. I drew to a stop, placed my hands on my hips, sucking in air as the coach nodded his approval. The first test was over. The coaches wanted to see if we’d taken our off-season training seriously.

  The expectations were heavy for any rookie, but I’d lived under the shadow of my father’s legendary success and my brother’s rise to stardom. I’d seen the recent headlines: Gavin Keller was drafted because of his last name—any other player with similar stats wouldn’t be playing professional ball. The implication was clear—I’d never live up to my father or my brother’s success. There was no way three football stars could come from the same family. There were many examples of three brothers in the sport or two brothers and a father, but one usually didn’t live up to the hype.

  “That was impressive,” a female voice said.

  I turned away from the other rookies running sprints to find a tall woman leaning on the fence, with a press lanyard hanging around her neck. She was gorgeous. Her smile was open and friendly.

  “Thanks.” My voice was terse. I didn’t want to encourage the press to speak to me. I didn’t want anyone twisting my words to suit the headlines already written in their head.

  Her smile faltered for a second before she recovered. “I’m Alexandra Austin. But everyone calls me Lexie.”

  “Gavin Keller.” I didn’t move toward her. No matter how beautiful this woman was, I couldn’t afford any distractions. She was the worst kind of distraction—all long legs, dark hair, and striking blue eyes. The suit she wore molded to her body but still left a lot to my imagination.

  “I know.” She smiled wider.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say she didn’t. No one knew anything beyond my name and stats.

  “I’m hoping to get to know you this year.” She said it matter-of-factly with no overtures or flirtations.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Her tone was sweet and inviting. I flicked a glance at her Seattle lanyard. She wasn’t the enemy, but she wasn’t exactly a friend either.

  Before I could respond, one of the veteran players, Clay Porter, approached her. “Hey, Lex.”

  Her smile shifted from polite to friendly and open. “Hey! How are you?”

  He hugged her. “You miss me?”

  “You know I did.” She kept a hand on his arm, standing close to him as if there was a familiarity there.

  Was she dating him? I shook my head in disgust that I was interested in her personal life at all. I jogged to the sideline for water. I chugged the bottle of water an assistant handed me while keeping an eye on Lexie and Clay.

  “That’s Lexie, the new sideline reporter,” Eric, the second year running back, said.

  “Yeah.” I made my tone purposely nonchalant. I shouldn’t care who she was or who she was dating. I was here to focus on football and nothing else. Except I did.

  Eric leaned in closer as if he were telling me a secret. “Women like that will be all over us from now on. She’s a former Miss U.S.A contestant—she was Miss Tennessee or Miss Kentucky or some shit. Doesn’t really matter. She’s hot as—”

  “Lexie’s off-limits. Clay’s known her since college. He’s very protective of her,” the second-string quarterback, Brett Edmunds said.

  My question was why but I didn’t voice it.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Brett added, “She’s been around the organization for a couple of years. She used to work at the local news station as a sports anchor. She’s made a lot of friends here. The veterans won’t want rookies sniffing around her.”

  I’d been red-shirted my first year in college. My coaches wanted me to sit on the sidelines, taking an extra year to develop my skills. At the time, I’d hated it, but I could see now how beneficial that time was for my growth as a player. I was drafted a year later than my teammates, making me twenty-three now. If Lexie had been out of school for two years, she’d be twenty-four or twenty-five. Not that it mattered if she was older than me. She was a member of the press and possibly Clay’s girlfriend. “I think you’ve got me wrong. I’m only interested in football.”

  “We’ll get along fine. Most of the rookies will be chasing tail with their newfound fame,” Brett said.

  I had no intention of doing that. My brother, Jake, had enjoyed some of the perks when he’d first played professionally, and I’d seen how it threw off his game. He told me not to party or pay attention to the women hanging around the team. My time was better spent on training.

  “Listen up!” one of the coaches called, before explaining the next round of drills.

  I refocused on practice. It was a long day of running drills in full gear then watching tapes to learn the team’s plays and lingo. My head throbbed when I finally made it to the locker room that evening.

  Training c
amp was the one chance to prove I could handle professional ball. I magnified each error in my head. The coaches were tough on us because they wanted to see who had what it took to perform under pressure. Fans and commentators cared about my last name, but coaches only cared about what I brought to the table. It wasn’t all about stats.

  A Seattle scout approached me at the Combine, his eyes shrewd, his gaze assessing. “Every guy here is talented, so why should I draft you?” he asked.

  I’d told him what I’d never told anyone else—I worked hard every day to prove I wasn’t just Brooks Keller’s son or Jake Keller’s brother. I wasn’t riding their success. I wanted to make a name for myself. When he didn’t respond, I mentioned that I mentored high school players while I was in college. I stressed the importance of sports to get them off the streets and give them confidence. I also paid for any equipment or fees they had. The scout considered me for a long moment before he slapped my shoulder and said, “Good.”

  Seattle drafted me, so I must have impressed him. I still needed to make the team then win a starting position. I wouldn’t stop until I’d caught the most balls and earned the most touchdowns for a Seattle wide receiver, then in the league. I wouldn’t stop.

  Lexie

  I smiled at Clay and nodded at the appropriate times, but my mind was on Gavin Keller. He was the one to watch this season—the son of a legend and the younger brother of the prior year’s championship team.

  When Clay rejoined the team, my manager, Adam Kaufman, leaned on the fence next to me. “The competition this year is between the wide receivers. Three spots are filled. Three more are up for grabs. There are the two returning receivers who caught a ball last year, Josh Mitchell and Dan Bradon. Then there’s Luis Gonzalez, who’s coming off that foot injury.”

  “I spoke to Coach Phillips before practice. He thinks Gonzalez will be healthy enough to play and make a significant impact even if he’s not a starter.”

  “Good.” He nodded his approval.

  “But Gonzalez hasn’t played in a game yet.” None of this was news to me, but I loved talking it out in case there was something I missed or a new angle I could explore.

  Adam nodded. “The switch from college to professional is the steepest for wide receivers. There are a few undrafted rookies who caught a lot of balls at mini-camp and could earn a spot if they continue to step up.” He paused before adding, “Then there’s Gavin Keller.”

  “Second-round draft pick—known for his vertical leap, then coming down with the ball no matter the coverage.” My gaze shifted to Keller, who was tall and lean at six-foot-four, unlike his quarterback brother, who was stockier at six-two.

  “The fans want to know who Gavin Keller is separate from his family.” Adam gave me a pointed look.

  I nodded because I wanted to know who the man under the pads was too. Earlier, when Gavin’s eyes met mine, they were dark and intense, and my easygoing smiled faltered for a second before I recovered. His football pants hugged his ass and thighs. I knew from the coaches’ faces he’d run a good time. He’d worked out in the off-season and had come ready to impress.

  I was all about being friendly. I wanted to know the players and coaches. I wanted players to relax for the interview, but I never resorted to flirting. I wanted players to respect me.

  I had an ironclad rule I’d made after dating a quarterback in college—never date an athlete. My stomach twisted thinking about it. I thought Mike Presley was my boyfriend. He didn’t. After dating a few months, he dumped me, telling everyone I was just a football groupie. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. I was on the broadcast team to further my career, not to be with a player.

  I’d heard the rumors and whispers that I’d gotten the sideline reporter job due to my pageant wins, my looks, or who I knew. Even if those things gave me a slight advantage, I deserved this position. I wasn’t just another pretty face. I was serious about this job.

  Adam leaned his elbows on the fence and lowered his voice. “He told one of our scouts he mentors high school football players.”

  “He does?” I looked away from the team to consider Adam. That was something I’d never read about Gavin. Why would he want to keep it a secret?

  “Gotta respect a man who doesn’t do things for the accolades. He does it because it’s the right thing to do. Some guys would prefer to ride the coattails of other’s success and boast about their charity donations. Gavin’s different. I want you to find out more about him.”

  My impression of Gavin was what the media had reported—his stats were good, his family’s talent was legendary. A question lingered in my mind, would he have made the team without his last name? I watched him run down the field and catch a ball from the starting quarterback, Will Montgomery, vowing to find out.

  Chapter 2

  Gavin

  The first week of training involved conditioning, running plays, and watching tapes after the veterans headed back to the dorms. I had to learn a new system, techniques and coaching styles, and the terminology. The most important thing I’d learned this week was that the guys were bigger, the hits harder, the competition fiercer than in college.

  I watched veteran wide receiver, Dan Bradon. I studied how he handled himself during meetings, in the weight room, during practice, and how he took care of his body. There was no shame in embracing stretching and ice baths after training, but it was vital to work through any minor injuries to be on the field during practice.

  I kept my head down. I was respectful to the coaches and veterans. A few of the other players were arrogant. I couldn’t be like that. Members of the press and fans were present at every practice. All eyes were on me. I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to say I was an entitled asshole.

  I showered after we watched the last tapes on Friday, dressed, and grabbed my bag to head to the dorms where all the players slept during training camp. Maybe I’d review the playbook one more time before calling it a night.

  I pulled open the door to find Lexie leaning against the wall. She wore the same suit from earlier in the day, with her jacket draped over her arm.

  She’d been looking at her phone. When she heard me, she lifted her head and smiled. “Oh, hi. I was waiting for you.” A faint blush tinted her cheeks.

  “You were?” I couldn’t help the twitch of my lips at her obvious discomfort. She wasn’t the sort of woman who hung out outside men’s locker rooms.

  She placed her phone in her bag, falling in step beside me. Rolling her shoulders back, she stood taller. “Yes. My manager mentioned a few days ago that you mentor high school football players.”

  I considered her for a second. What was her angle? I kept that part of my life private. I didn’t want the boys hounded by reporters.

  “It’s just—I think that’s wonderful. I was curious why you don’t want anyone to know.” Her expression was genuine, devoid of any guile or manipulation. As if she wanted to get to know me, not dig for information for a story.

  I grunted at her accurate assumption. “Why do you think I don’t want anyone to know?”

  Her lips tilted up. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? I couldn’t find a mention of it anywhere.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t want the press involved. The boys’ privacy is important to me.”

  She searched my face, seemingly satisfied with what she saw. “I respect that. Look, it’s my job to sell you to the fans. The fans know you can play football. There are no secrets when it comes to your family’s football legacy.”

  I pushed the door open to the parking lot, waiting for her to precede me into the humid night air. I stopped by the parking lot where I assumed she’d parked.

  She faced me and tilted her head slightly. “But they don’t know Gavin Keller. Who are you? Why should our fans care about you?”

  “They should care that I do my job and deliver. My stats speak for themselves.” I shifted my bag to my other hand.

  “But they don’t, do they? I don’t have to tell you what the he
adlines say.” Her voice was soft and gentle, but her words hit me hard.

  “I don’t care about headlines.” I bristled. I had no intention of letting this woman know anything about that part of my life. She’d sensationalize it. She’d make it something it wasn’t.

  “Listen, if we can get the fans behind you, the headlines will change. The fans want to identify with you. They want to know you’re a good guy. They want to be proud to wear your jersey and to put their kids in one.”

  I snorted. “I don’t party. I don’t mess around with women. I work hard and play hard. What you see is what you get.”

  Her face flushed. “Those are good qualities, but if the fans don’t know who you are, they won’t invest in you.”

  My favorite tool was silence when speaking with a reporter who wanted information from me. She didn’t strike me as slick as some of the other media members, but I still didn’t trust her motives.

  “It’s the same with my job. I worked hard to build a rapport with each player and coach so that when I need to interview them on the field, they’re comfortable with me. If I make a mistake or ask a stupid question, they’re happy to answer it intelligently, leaving the teasing for off-camera. If I was an asshole, no one would want to answer my questions. They’d be terse and stiff on camera. They wouldn’t come to my rescue if I was in a bind.”

  I nodded, mesmerized by the spark in her eyes when she spoke about her job. If I thought she was a pretty face in a suit meant to attract viewers based on looks alone, I was wrong. She was intelligent and damn good at her job.