Later that night I send him a text message.
*
Violet: Why did the football go to the bank?
*
Cooper: I’ve been wondering that very thing.
*
Violet: To get his quarterback.
*
Cooper: :) Thank you. I needed that.
*
Violet: Hey, if you have any free time this week, can you meet me at the high school field?
*
He writes back, telling me he’ll be there Thursday night.
7
We don’t need stadium lights. There is enough starlight tonight in Petaluma, our hometown.
Nearly twenty years ago, I met Cooper in this town when I was in grade school. I was riding my purple banana seat bike, and he moved a block over from my house. This is the high school we both attended, and this field is where I watched so many of his games, cheering from the sidelines.
I was never a cheerleader. Please. I’m not that kind of girl. But I still went to his games, and I shouted and clapped.
Tonight, I’m here to cheer in a whole different way. I have everything we need—a football and some music. I wait at the fifty-yard line.
When Cooper shows up a few minutes later, striding across the grass, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans, a gray T-shirt hugging his firm frame, he shoots me a curious look. “Are you my new coach?”
I toss the ball back and forth in my hands. “Nope. I want to play for fun.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Are you holding out on me, Vi? Are you really a ringer for Brady?”
I flash him a big smile. “There’s only one way to find out.”
I turn on the playlist on my phone, cueing up Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle.”
“How apt,” he deadpans.
“It is a jungle out there.” I launch the ball up and down, then tip my forehead toward the goalposts at the end of the field. “Come on! Go deep.”
“You’re the quarterback now?”
I shimmy my hips back and forth. “Maybe I am. Thirty-six. Zone. Lion. Sail. Ten.” I rattle off one of the plays he gave me at the wedding.
His eyes widen. “You remember the playbook?”
“I told you I love strategy. Now get your butt down the field and catch this ball.”
Saluting me, he takes off, running a post route, as I launch the ball toward him. I don’t have a cannon for an arm. That’s why I picked a skinny post route. But I do manage the fifteen yards just fine, and he catches it beautifully.
Of course.
“Now if only I could’ve done that last Sunday,” he mutters.
“You can,” I say with enough confidence for both of us. “Now throw it to me.”
He palms the ball, considering the options, it seems. He raises his face, meets my gaze, and calls out a play. It’s an easy one, and I remember it from our talk. A simple, short route. I run a few yards as he lobs an easy spiral in my direction.
Even though I know he’s not putting all of his strength into it, he can’t help but throw hard. I haul it in, but I can still feel the punch that he packs as I grab it, the ball smacking me in the chest.
A cough bursts from my throat.
“Are you okay?” Cooper trots towards me.
I hold out my hand like a stop sign. “I’m fine. I can handle catching a football.”
“And you caught it well. Too bad I can’t get it to the receiver when I need to.”
My eyes narrow and I march the final feet to him, stabbing him in the chest with my finger. “No.”
“No, what?”
“No feeling that for yourself,” I say firmly and crisply, shoving the football at him.
“I’m not feeling bad for myself.”
“You are and I’ll have none of it.”
He heaves a sigh. “Fine, but you would, too. Have you heard the crap they’re saying about me on sports radio?”
I shake my head. “I don’t listen to sports radio. And you shouldn’t, either.”
“Have you read what they say about me on the Internet?”
Another shake. “Stop googling yourself.”
He raises his hands in surrender.
“I mean it. Get your head out of the Internet and focus on the game. That’s all you have to do. Just remember that.” I tap his temple. “This is yours. This belongs to you. Don’t let them in here.”
A slow smile spreads across his face and he nods, taking it in. “You’re right. This is mine.”
“Your mind. Your head. Your best weapon on the field.”
“Mine. All mine,” he repeats like he needs to remind himself, then he shouts another play.
I follow his directions easily, taking the spot of his receiver, and we play like that for the next thirty minutes. Running easily, tossing balls, barking directions and audibles, and having a blast running into the end zone, arms raised, scoring touchdowns, pretending to kick extra points.
Until finally we flop down on the cool grass in the middle of the field and stare at the stars. I turn to him, and I’m delighted to see not only relief on his face, but happiness and confidence.
He looks my way and our eyes connect, his brown eyes holding mine longer than I expect.
“Hey you,” he whispers.
“Hey you, too.” Tingles sweep over my skin.
“Thank you.”
“It was nothing,” I say, though I know that’s not true.
I wait for him to look away, but he doesn’t break the hold.
And my brain reassembles the scene. My mind says this is the moment in the script when they kiss. When the hero touches her shoulder, runs a finger along a strand of hair, moves in close.
But the better part of me, the stronger part, the piece of me I’ve kept in check since the wedding, rises to the surface. Reminding me. I’m here for the friendship. That’s what’s steady. That’s what lasts. That’s what I’ll protect in the same way Cooper’s offensive line protects him. I will guard our friendship fiercely because it means the world to me.
This is not the moment when friends turn into lovers. Instead, this is the time when he needs to know I’ll be there for him always.
He taps my shoulder. The look in his eyes is soft and earnest. “It was everything.”
My heart somersaults. My throat goes dry.
“I’m glad you had me come here tonight,” he adds.
“Me, too,” I say, and it’s wholly true, somersaults and cartwheels aside.
I let go of that swoopy, crazy feeling in my chest. I say goodbye to all the tingles and shivers. This is where I want to be right now. His friend.
I punch his shoulder. “Go get ’em, Tiger.”
He does.
He turns the season around the next week, and the next and the next, putting the Renegades in playoff position by early December, and making the city fall in love with the new quarterback again—handsome, talented, good, and winning.
He’s the most valuable guy on the team, and he’s become the toast of the town.
When December coasts into San Francisco, it’s time for the annual players’ charity auction.
That means he needs me to work my magic.
8
Cooper’s hair is sticking up. He has some kind of crazy bed head look going on tonight. But that’s part of his appeal.
So is his tailored charcoal suit, which makes him look completely edible.
Not for me, of course.
I’m over all those crazy crushing feelings.
My goal tonight is simple. Make the guys look good before the auction to raise money for the children’s hospital. “We need to domesticate your lovely locks, Cooper. I think this gel will do.”
I hold up a tube of hair gel, my silver bracelets jangling on my wrists, as I prepare to put the finishing touches on the stars of the team.
“What is that goop?” he asks suspiciously.
“Why this? It’s called Goop for Guys. It’s perfect for you.”<
br />
We joke some more, along with the other guys here in the suite. They’re all wearing three-piece suits, and damn, there’s something so yummy about a good-looking man wearing a vest with a suit.
Something that gets my blood heated to hot.
But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not longing for him like I have in the past. I can simply appreciate him as a man, while enjoying him as my buddy.
As I work on his hair, I eye his attire. “I like this. You rarely see anyone wearing a vest around here.”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re a vest woman?” he asks in a flirty voice that makes me want to flirt back with him.
Just for fun.
Not for anything more.
I laugh and whisper, “I’m an everything woman.”
He blinks, like he’s surprised I said that.
Hell, maybe I am, too.
But even though there’s some kind of energy and excitement in this room tonight, I know that’s all it is. Maybe a year ago, I would’ve wondered if our friendship would catch on fire and make us both melt from the heat.
Tonight, though? I know we’re solid, and we’ll finish the evening as we started it.
I run my gel-covered hands through his hair, taming it for the camera since the auction is being carried live on local TV. Surveying my handiwork, I issue my pronouncement.
“You are one hot quarterback.”
His lips part. He takes his time answering. “I am?”
I flash him a coy smile and pat his shoulder. “Of course you are.”
If I were in the audience, I’d bid on him. Not that I’m a bidding girl, and I don’t have that kind of money to play with, but he looks like a prize.
They all do.
I spin around, regarding the guys. Harlan, the running back; Jones, the receiver; and Rick, the kicker. “You boys are all so pretty.”
Rick crosses his legs. “You want to bid on me tonight, Vi?”
I decide to have fun with them since I’m in that kind of mood. “It’s all I can think about.” Rooting around in my purse, I find my wallet and grab a few bills. “Will twenty dollars be enough for you?”
As the guys tease about whether that’s too much to pay for Rick, Cooper tenses and scowls, almost as if he dislikes the idea of me bidding on Rick.
I point to Harlan. “How much for you?”
Another round of joking ensues, as well as more grumbles from Cooper.
I glance back at my friend. “Coop, are you as cheap as the others? Should I try for you?”
He scoffs. “I’m a premium kinda guy,” he says, confidently. Then, with those brown eyes pinned on mine, he adds, “But if you wanted to bid on me, I’d foot the bill for it.”
His tone is intense and serious. Like he means it, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s saying I should bid on him for some reason. I don’t know why he would want that. Everyone will be bidding on him—he’s the main attraction.
Soon, the auction is about to start, and Jillian, the team publicist, leads the guys out of the room.
I call out to Cooper, and he turns around. I walk over to him in my high-heeled boots that don’t make me as tall as him, but do shoot me a little bit closer.
I raise my hand and smooth out a strand of his hair that’s out of place. He’s been part of this auction for the last three years, but this is the first time he’s going out there as the team’s starting quarterback. “You’ve killed every year as the backup. You’ll kill it even harder as the starter, and you’ve been playing great the last three months.”
He knocks on the wall. “Knock on wood. We need to keep playing great. And I know you’re part of why I’m playing so well.”
“Am I?”
“That night on the high school field was everything I needed to turn it around.”
I smile. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Vi, you did more than help. That was everything I needed to hear.”
I beam, my heart soaring with contentment. “All right, tiger. Get out there.” I straighten his hair one more time, then I adjust his tie, even though it’s perfect.
He meets my eyes, his voice going a bit husky. “Does my tie look good?”
My stomach swoops. But I remind myself that it’s a vestigial response. It’s borne from the past, and I don’t need to be anchored to those feelings. The ones I’m getting over. “Everything looks good. Now get out on stage. I’ll be in the audience watching every minute, and I can’t wait.”
He turns to head down the hall then stops at the sound of the owner’s sister.
He groans. “It’s Maxine.”
And she’s singing “It’s Raining Men.”
9
Ten minutes later the auction is in full swing.
The host, local TV reporter Sierra Franklin, is running the bidding and extolling the virtues of Jones. As she waxes on about his hands, I find Cooper backstage.
He paces, tension written all over his face.
I ask what’s wrong, but he simply jokes about having Holly’s friends bid on him when it’s his turn. The comment nags in my brain, makes me wonder if something went down in the hall.
I touch his elbow. “Is everything okay? Did something happen with Maxine? You mentioned her right before you left the suite, and now you don’t quite seem like yourself.”
Before he can answer, Sierra’s voice echoes from the on-stage mic. “And now we’re getting ready to bring our starting quarterback on the stage.”
Cooper whispers quietly. “I wouldn’t use the term okay to describe my interaction with her.”
The tension winds tighter, and I wrap my hand around him, feeling protective of him. “What happened?”
Through tight lips, he says, “Let’s just say I would rather ride the bench again than have her win me.”
With that, he strides onto the stage, and I can hear everyone in the ballroom cheering and clapping for their chance to bid on the star athlete. While a part of me is thrilled the crowd is excited to see him, his comments worry me, and that part of me takes over. I scurry through the hotel and make my way to the ballroom, scrambling to watch his blind side.
The ballroom is packed, and I wedge my way through crowds of cheering women and men, laughing and clapping as Sierra interacts with Cooper on stage.
He gives her a peck on the cheek, and she clasps her hand to her face, saying, “I’ll never wash this cheek again.”
She gestures to Cooper and sings his praises before the audience. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the pièce de résistance, this year’s starting quarterback, at long last, and the winner of the Most Valuable Playboy auction for the last three years in a row. After all, who wouldn’t want to take this handsome and talented man out for a night on the town? Everyone loves the quarterback.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Cooper smiles for the crowd, seemingly shucking off his backstage concerns, as he takes off his jacket and shows off how absolutely decadently delicious he looks in his pants, shirt, and vest.
Yes, I am a vest woman indeed.
He scans the crowd and finds me easily. I mouth, Vests are hot.
When he smiles, it feels like a private grin just for me.
Even though I know it’s a friendship grin, and I’m completely cool with it being just that.
Sierra sings his praises, from his stats to his skills—six-foot-four inches, light brown eyes and dark brown hair, great cheekbones, talented in the kitchen, and a rock star at karaoke.
Yes, yes, yes.
I know all that cold.
Cooper launches into a few lines from his favorite Bon Jovi tune, and all seems well. I’m not so sure what he was worried about with Maxine, but I do know she’s a little flirty with the players, and her brother, the team’s owner, lets her get away with basically anything.
But she’s nowhere in sight, so perhaps it’s much ado about nothing.
When the bidding begins and my brother and Holly offer measly bids for fun,
I figure there’s truly nothing to worry about.
Until a flash of red catches the corner of my eye.
Maxine is here. She thrusts a jeweled hand high, and when her voice rises above the crowd, upping the bid from a paltry fifty dollars to a startling three thousand, I understand why Cooper was concerned.
She wants him.
Her hands are parked on her hips.
Her eyes are guns, aiming for him.
Chills skate down my spine as she stares at the quarterback, licking her lips.
Holy smokes. The owner’s sister wants to take Cooper home tonight, and that can’t sit well with the guy who’s trying to prove his worth to the team.
“That’s quite a large jump,” Sierra says.
“And that handsome fellow is worth every penny,” Maxine replies, her voice dripping with desire.
“Three thousand,” Sierra repeats. “Do we have thirty-one hundred?”
A few others in the crowd jump in with higher bids.
But Maxine raises her price every time, staring at Cooper like she wants to eat him for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack.
She keeps outbidding everyone, determination in her tone.
Sheer certainty she’ll win him.
And in that moment, the stark realization hits me.
I don’t want her to get her hands on him. I know Cooper is no saint. I’m not trying to keep him pure for me because this isn’t about me. This is about Cooper. I can read him. I can see something in his face. It borders on fear. A whole new kind of worry.
This is the owner’s sister making a play for him. This is his first year as the starting quarterback, and all I can think is Cooper doesn’t want to ruin his big chance by having to fend off an out-of-nowhere bid from a woman who wants to sink her sharp teeth into him.
My friend. My guy. Mine.
Maxine stares at him, slashing an arm through the air and declaring five thousand dollars, eliminating pretty much anyone else.
Sierra’s eyes light up. “Going once?” she asks, scanning the crowd, waiting for one last bid.
My brain whirs.
My mind races.
When I see Maxine wink at Cooper, I burn.
She thinks Cooper wants her.
I clench my fists, flashing back to what Cooper said to me about footing the bill.
I can’t let Maxine win him. I can’t let his entire season go to hell over something he’s not expecting.
Most Irresistible Guy Page 3