by Lisa Rayne
Dash sat down on the bench across from Shave. “What are you saying?”
“Make no mistake. I intend to fight like hell to put your ass back in the number two spot. But until I’m cleared to play, this is your team. You’ve got to start leading them like it is. We need to cinch that Wild Card spot today. San Francisco knows our offense well. They’ve used it. They’ve studied how we run it with me at the helm, and they’ve studied how we run it with you acting as if you’re me. If we’re going to beat these guys. I mean beat them squarely and not just squeak by like we did last week in Denver. That’s not going to cut it.”
“What do you suggest?”
“This is your team at the moment, Dash. It’s your job to lead them to a win. Quit trying to be a temporary me and start playing like a permanent you.”
Dash frowned, remembering Naomi’s similar words to him a few weeks ago. He stared at Shave.
“What? Can’t handle the truth?”
Dash toyed with his licensed Griffins sweat towel. “It’s not that. It’s just that someone else told me the same thing recently.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?”
“Naomi.”
Shave’s smile was huge. “Quite a woman that Naomi.” Shave laughed at the scowl Dash shot him. “Easy, tiger. I think she’s quite a woman, but she’s not the woman for me. Even if I thought she was, she only has eyes for one Griffins uniform and my number ain’t on it.” Shave leaned back against his locker. “Look, I know your style, kid. I remember what you played like before that doofus in Chicago tried to make you over your rookie year. I think it’s time you showed the Griffins fans what a collegiate All-American and two-time National Champion can really bring to the NFL.
“I’m counting on you to win this one, Dash. We need to lead this team to the Super Bowl, and you’ve got to keep our playoff run alive until I’m well enough to pick up the mantel again.” Shave turned to leave, but stopped mid-turn. “By the way, I understand congratulations are in order.”
Dash looked up.
“I heard you’re a father. That you and Naomi have a daughter?”
A smile followed the nod Dash gave Shave. “Taliana.”
“I hope you’re planning to finally do right by that woman.”
Dash frowned again.
“You know, Dash. You were lucky to get that woman the first time around. She out-classed you then, and she still out-classes you. She deserves to be more than your chick on the side.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t act like a woman with loftier ambitions.”
Shave’s forehead creased, and he crossed his arms as he planted his feet hip distance apart. “What do you mean?”
“I asked her to marry me. She said no.”
The surprise on Shave’s face made Dash laugh. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“She’s the mother of your child, she’s in love with you, but she turned down your marriage proposal? I don’t understand.”
“First of all, you’re wrong about her being in love with me. We’re good together, but love me she doesn’t. And second, I may have botched my proposal delivery.”
“Botched?”
“I kind of gave her the impression I only asked her because of Tallie.”
Shave lifted his ball cap and immediately resituated it on his head. “So you left out the part about being in love with her?”
“I hadn’t quite figured that out at the time.”
“Damn, Dash, I didn’t realize you were so slow on the uptake. You are planning to fix things with her, right?”
“I’m sure as hell going to try.”
Shave looked skyward and shook his head. “Why do I feel a Star Wars lesson is in order here?”
With a grimace, Dash pleaded, “Don’t say it.”
“Do or do not, young Skywalker. There is no try.”
Dash rolled his eyes. “You just had to say it.”
Laughing, Shave dropped a hand to Dash’s shoulder. “Yeah, I did, and I wish you luck with that. But for now, how ‘bout you get your butt in gear and post one in the W column? I’d like there to be some season of consequence left for me to play in, particularly some postseason, if I finally get my PT to clear me for play starting next week.”
Shave made it all the way to the door before he added, “Oh, and I hope you read the defense today better than you read women. Naomi is in love with you and has been for a long time. That’s evident to every man who tries to get her attention. How the hell did you miss it?”
Dash sat on the bench for ten minutes after Shave left. Shave’s words about Naomi and his expectations about the game rattling around in his head. Shave wasn’t asking for much. Do right by Naomi. Win today’s game. Secure their playoff spot so they could keep their Super Bowl bid alive.
No pressure, right?
Right.
His entire family was here to watch him play. At least, he hoped they were. He knew Tatum was out there. And Peyton should be out there somewhere, too. She’d planned to meet him before the game, but she’d been running late and he’d had to get dressed. Still, he had no doubt she’d be here if she wasn’t already.
Naomi should also be in the stadium. He’d sent her VIP tickets so she’d be seated in a spot where he could easily find her. He hadn’t seen much of her this past week. He’d done all his visiting with Tallie at Adele’s and had only seen Naomi on those nights when he’d “inadvertently” lost track of time and had still been at Adele’s apartment when Naomi came to pick up their daughter.
Funny. He laughed to himself. She’d turned down his screwed up attempt at a proposal, and he had to use subterfuge to get to see her, but he automatically included her when he thought of family. Now that he could admit to himself that he was in love with her, the thought of her and Tallie both as his family was as natural as breathing.
Could Shave have been right? Was she in love with him, too? If that were true, no wonder she’d turned down his proposal. Who’d want a marriage based on unrequited love? Tatum had called him an idiot. He now agreed with his brother.
He had to fix this. He needed to convince Naomi that his heart was healed and it beat only for her. No more walls for her to scale around. No more holding back his true feelings for her. He harbored no more fear where she was concerned, except maybe the fear that he’d never get her to take him back.
The first step was to get her admiration and respect back—if only part way. Football was as good a meeting ground as any. She loved football and had never missed a home game when they were together. He silently prayed she wouldn’t pick today’s game to be a no-show.
He stood. Time to face the music. If ever he were going to make a stand, make a stand that mattered, today would be the day. He needed a win on every level today, a professional win and a personal win.
First things first: Time to go kick some San Francisco tail.
He headed out the door and up the tunnel. He knew how to get Naomi’s attention today, and he had to do it from the field.
Chapter 22
Dash stared at the scoreboard from the sideline. The defense fought to hold San Francisco from scoring again. The Griffins were down by two touchdowns with only four minutes thirty seconds left in the third quarter. His keeping the team’s playoff hopes alive wasn’t looking so good.
He lifted his Griffins baseball cap and ran fingers through his hair. The passing game wasn’t working. Try as he might to connect with Max Gordon, the guy’s speed and timing didn’t gel well with Dash’s throwing pace. He’d overshot the guy several times already tonight. He couldn’t keep that up and get the team back in the game.
Shave had told him to make this team his own. Had Shave meant it? After running into Tatum and Peyton on his way out of the locker room before warmups, he had his doubts. Tatum had learned the photographer of the kiss photo had been paid handsomely to snap that photo, and the gentleman who’d kissed Tatum had as well. According to the kissing bandit, he’d been hired to catch Tatum—who he’d been told was Dash—in
a compromising position. The man who’d guaranteed payment had spoken with him on the phone and had a heavy Southern accent. Had it been Shave?
Given the conversation they’d just had inside, it didn’t make sense that Shave would sabotage him. Then again, Shave’s advice had centered on doing what was necessary to keep the team in the Wild Card hunt. That was to Shave’s advantage. Until he’d been cleared for play, Shave would want Dash to keep winning. Didn’t mean he wasn’t planning to have Dash ousted once he was back at the helm of the team.
Dash’s arms crossed over his chest. If Dash had a prayer to pull out a win today, he needed to take Shave’s advice whatever the starter’s motives. If this team was his permanently, Gordon wouldn’t be his preferred option as receiver. He glanced over at number eighty-five, Trey Coffey. Coffey had great hands and great speed. Once Dash had started throwing to the guy in practice, he realized they connected well. The flow between them felt natural. Yet, the young player sat in the third option for Shave’s game.
Dash glanced up at the players’ family section, looking for Naomi. He wanted desperately to win this game for her. He smiled when he caught a glimpse of Tallie, clapping on her Gammie’s lap, but the face he needed to see was missing. He turned back to the field, but his focus only lasted a few minutes before he was searching the seats again.
Eventually, he caught Tatum gesturing to him from the stands. Tatum pointed to the empty seat next to Adele then up at the sky box overhead. Dash watched him, opening his hands to indicate his lack of understanding. Tatum pulled his game ticket out of his shirt pocket, pointed it at the chair beside him, then at Tallie and her Gammie, then turned and pointed directly at the owner’s sky box. Dash’s head tilted up. His vision locked on DuChamps’s box. The windows were tinted so the people inside could see out, but outsiders couldn’t see in. Dash couldn’t see Naomi, but he could tell from Tatum’s pantomime that’s from where she watched the game.
His adrenaline spiked. He’d wanted her here and she was. It figured she’d be in the owner’s box with DuChamps. The man adored her. If Dash didn’t know for certain the married man was vehemently appalled by adultery, he’d be jealous. As it stood, he was simply jealous that DuChamps got to spend time with her at this game, while he couldn’t even see her.
He nodded to Tatum, acknowledging he’d gotten the message, then plugged back into his game. San Francisco needed to convert on a fourth and eight. Dash willed his defensive line to hold. The Griffins couldn’t afford to get any further in the hole.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking up again at the owner’s sky box. He’d wanted to play well for Naomi today. With the approval of the offensive coordinator, he’d tried to mix things up. Not running too many of the bread and butter plays, knowing the other team was expecting them. No matter what he tried, the running game had stalled and the passing game wasn’t producing.
Shave Stephens appeared at his side. “Your game’s not up there.”
“Maybe it is.”
“Then you need to get it back where it belongs. Out on the field. There’s nothing you can do about her right now. You have a job to focus on. Get your head in the game, Janssen, and go win this.”
“That’s easier said than done. Your boy seems to have a hard time catching the ball.” Dash had to wonder if that was at Shave’s directive.
“Then why do you keep throwing to him?” Shave fisted his hands on his hips and faced Dash squarely.
The question surprised Dash. Not what he’d expect from a guy who’d masterminded the lead receiver’s recent completion problems. He studied Shave closely. “You know the routes. He’s first option receiver and made the Pro Bowl for the fifth straight time last year. The last thing I need is to stir the pot by bucking the system. Besides, he whines like a two-year old when he doesn’t get his way.”
Shave raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you cared about bucking the system? Or whiners, for that matter?”
Dash ran a hand under his cap again. “Since DuChamps made it clear everything I do could land me in another city.”
A scowl slid across Shave’s face. “Look, I know DuChamps is huffing and puffing loud and strong at the moment. But, on the field, our only job is to put a win on the board. You win this game and keep us on the playoff path, DuChamps would be a fool to mess with you. The fans would have his head.”
“I don’t think DuChamps gives a crap about what the fans think. He’s the man who dropped an expansion team in the middle of Chiefs territory when half the local population would have loved to take his scalp.” Dash dropped his butt onto the bench. “Besides, putting up a win is easier said than done with Gordon having developed a chronic case of the dropsies. Nothing’s clicking.”
“Then change something.”
“What exactly do you suggest I change?”
“I’d start with your perspective. Quit thinking about what’s not working and start thinking about what could.”
Dash glanced over at number eighty-five again.
Shave noticed the look. “You’ve been eyeing Coffey this entire possession. What’s the problem?”
“Why’s he your third option?”
Shave shrugged. “I’ve been playing with Gordon a long time. We have a groove, a certain chemistry. Sometimes, I can find him without conscious thought. I just know where he is. Coffey’s a great player, but he’s young and new to the lineup. He’s got a great knack for getting open when others can’t, which always leaves me with a backup option.”
Shave cocked a hip, leaning his weight on his good leg. “Why do you ask?”
“Gordon and I don’t work. The timing’s off. First, I was over shooting him. Now, I’m hesitating every time I throw to him. It’s giving the defense time to read the play. Even if I do connect with him, he can’t get much yardage past the throw.”
“What’s your solution?”
“Normally, I’d push the running game, but San Fran’s defense is shutting that down. I need to throw down field.”
To Dash’s surprise, Shave grinned. “You mean your solution is another receiver as first option.”
“Yeah.”
“Gordon is my go-to receiver. Doesn’t mean he has to be yours. Do what you have to do to win. If that means Gordon drops to second or third option, then so be it. His ego will have to get over it.”
Dash went quiet. His gut was telling him he could trust Shave. Someone else had to have orchestrated his press problem. He’d worry about who later. For now, he needed to get his head back in the game.
Shave joined him in his silence for several minutes then said, “I saw Naomi in the family section earlier. She wasn’t in her usual press box spot. That your doing?”
Dash nodded. He was about to turn away when a tingle went through him. He looked up. He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. Naomi watched him.
“Well, if I were trying to turn a woman’s head, I’d wanna make sure I won the damn game.”
A whistle drew their attention to the field. San Francisco had just scored another touchdown. Crap!
A few minutes later, the referee signaled a successful extra point attempt and the 49ers now led by twenty-one points. The Griffins were down three touchdowns at twenty-four to three.
The punt return team took the field. The Griffins returner made it to their own forty-eight yard line.
“We need a touchdown before the end of this quarter, Janssen.” Shave snatched the baseball cap off Dash’s head. “Go out and get us one.”
Dash grabbed up his helmet to retake the field. He faced Shave for a moment. “Consider it done,” his smirk appeared slowly, “oh Jedi Master.”
Shave shook his head. “Always the smart-ass, Janssen.” He motioned with his head towards the field. “Get your butt out there.”
Dash slipped on his helmet and jogged to the huddle. He slid in with his guys. “Trey, I heard you hold the record at your university for the 100-meter dash.”
Thorsten Coffey III frowned behind his face ma
sk. “Yeah. What of it?”
“You once told me if I could throw it, you could catch it.”
The receiver tilted his helmet to the back of his head and shrugged.
“End zone, bro. I’m throwing for the end zone. I need you there to catch the ball.”
Trey’s grin spread wide in his dark-chocolate face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”
Dash grinned back. “Left side. Corner.”
Trey rubbed his gloved hands together then lifted them and waggled his fingers. “I’ve got you. It’s about time you decided to load that gun.”
Dash swatted Coffey’s helmet back down and called a break to the huddle.
Gordon pulled at Dash’s sleeve. “What are you doing, boy? No way that grandstanding stunt is going to work. Play the game like you’ve got some sense and throw me the ball.”
Dash disengaged his sleeve. “We’re down by three touchdowns, Max. Or haven’t you noticed? We’ve only got about two minutes left in this quarter. If we don’t score this round, we’ll have a massive hole to climb out of in the fourth. We need to put some points on the board.”
Gordon shook his head in disgust. “Shave would never pull this Hail Mary crap this early in the game.”
“I’m not Shave.”
“You’re damn right you’re not.” Gordon stomped off and fell into position.
Dash glanced over to the sideline. Shave caught his look and nodded. That was all Dash needed to set his mind at ease.
“Yeah, damn right.” He chuckled out loud as he assumed the football position. “I’m not.”
“What?” His center peeked over his shoulder.
Dash patted him on the butt. “Nothing, Danny. Just hike the ball.” He shoved his hands beneath Danny’s ass to take the snap. “On my count …”