Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set
Page 54
Once, I might have loved hearing that. Now my stomach pitted.
Why couldn’t I deal with something simpler. Maybe an annulment to a drunken marriage?
Peter still hadn’t raised his voice, despite the good news of an apparent promotion. “This would be a different set of duties. Something…outside your contract. But you would be compensated for it. Heavily.”
I’m sure I would be. What sort of crime would we commit without a hefty bribe to make it all the more nefarious?
“I don’t need the money.” The hairs on my neck prickled. “Happy to help.”
“Nonsense. This calls for a raise. More responsibilities. More trust.”
I silently swore. “Great.”
“I need you to go on a little road trip. And you’re the only one I can count on for this job.”
That’s what I was afraid of. I bought myself some time and straighten the strap on my camera bag.
“Like…with the team?” I grinned. “Can I finally go to the London game with the guys?”
“Do this well, and you can go anywhere you like, whenever you like.” He paused. “But I need you to go solo somewhere first. Down south. To Gainesville.”
“Gainesville?” I laughed, a little too eagerly. “If I’m heading to Florida, can’t it be Miami or Key West?”
“I need you to visit the Cougar’s training camp.”
And there it was.
I wished it had shocked me more, that the affirmation of my worst fears wasn’t accompanied with his pleasant smile.
“Why would I go to the Cougar’s camp?”
I’d make him say it. Maybe if he heard it spoken out loud, he’d realize how horrible the implication truly was.
“Same reason you’re here,” he said. “I need you to take a few pictures.”
“Of the Cougars?”
“Of the Cougars. See how they’re training. What plays they’re running with Zane de la Cruz. Just head down there. Sit in with the fans. Maybe stick around if you can, get a couple other pictures.”
Did he honestly think the Rivets needed help to contain Zane de le Cruz? Sure, he was one of the league’s best rushers, but we’d signed Cole Hawthorne. We wouldn’t have any trouble shutting down another offense without any illegal pictures of their game plan.
This was it. I lowered my voice, but I stared him straight in the eyes.
He didn’t blink.
“You want me to cheat for the Rivets,” I said.
“It’s not cheating. It’s just a couple pictures.”
“Pictures that would give us an edge over the Cougars.”
“Elle, everyone does it. Every team has their little games they play with each other. Some coaches scout injury reports. Other will mess with headset frequencies during plays. You know that we’ve even signed players cut by division rivals, just to keep up with the intel other teams have on us. All you need to do is take a couple pictures.”
“And if the Rivets wouldn’t do this?”
“If everyone else has a leg up, we better do it too before we get pissed on.”
I didn’t believe him. “What if I get caught?”
“Not going to happen. You’re…you.”
Insulted? Frustrated? Trapped within the worst job opportunity imaginable?
“Because I’m a woman?” I asked. “No one would will think twice about a woman taking pictures?”
“Sure. If anyone gets suspicious, just…take some selfies with your back to the field. They’ll assume you’re a beautiful woman enjoying the sun in Gainesville. Take Wednesday and Thursday. Head down, enjoy the sights, and come back with all the pictures you can get me.”
“But what about the Rivets’ camp? I need to do my job here.”
“Elle, this is your job now.”
I stiffened. Cheating was my job…and it’d mean my job if I didn’t do it.
Damn it. This was my dream career. The perfect opportunity. I could cross the country, visit anywhere I liked, see everything I wanted. I had a good paycheck throughout the year, and plenty of time in the off-season to travel, see the sights, pick up the occasional wedding party or summer sports event to earn extra money.
I loved every part of this job.
But I valued honesty more.
“Peter, I don’t think I—”
I silenced as someone tugged on my shirt. I expected a giant linebacker or grinning tight-end.
Instead, I faced a rather respectable little boy, maybe five years old, dressed to kill in a perfectly fitted suit. A gold silk cloth tucked into his breast pocket, matching his tie—Rivets’ branded. He stared at me with green eyes the color of a swirling lagoon. His shock of blonde hair was messy, but he furiously smoothed the bangs that fell into his eyes.
He gave me an impatient scowl and shoved a flower into my hand.
“That’s for you,” he said.
The flower was partially crushed, and most of the rose petals inadvertently scattered through the tunnel. The boy had scuffed his dress shoes on the cement all the way up, and the impeccably polished black now scratched-up grey. He fidgeted on alternating legs, but I wasn’t sure if the little guy had to pee or if he was that uncomfortable in his little formal straight-jacket, all buttoned up and debonair like he was James Bond on assignment to deliver me a flower.
And I could guess which mastermind commanded the mission.
“You’re Elle, right?” the boy asked.
I glanced at Peter. He wasn’t eager to continue our conversation. Excellent.
I’d buy the boy some puppies and fireworks as a reward for the interruption.
“Yep, I’m Elle. And you must be…Sebastian.”
He took two deep breaths, started his sentence a couple times, and was still too excited to speak without slurring his words into the cutest mess.
“I was supposed…see, I was looking for you…” His tone shifted between shrill and confused. “I was supposed to tell you…um…”
He was too cute, and he was in danger of me pinching him until he popped. The most adorable five-year-old in the world stared at me with big green eyes, rosy cheeks, and the same puppy-dog wiggles that propelled Lachlan from one side of the field to the other.
“Is the flower from Lachlan?” I asked.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I told him to get you an X-Box cause I like Minecraft. But he said girls like flowers. But there’s flowers in Minecraft. And horses. And zombies! I like zombies. Can I go now?”
This kid needed to be stuffed with sugar, pronto. I shrugged towards Peter.
“Sorry. I should go check on my…husband. We’ll iron out the details of my trip later.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I offered my hand to the handsome little messenger. Sebastian scrunched up his nose.
“Do I gotta?”
“Can you take me to your brother?”
“Yeah, but…wait.” he wiggled in the suit, pulling the sleeve down to cover his palm before taking my hand. “There.”
Lachlan waited for us at the edge of the field as practice ended. He broke from the offensive guys chatting a little too close to the ankle tape. He dumped a cup of water over his head, and I pretended that I wasn’t imagining all the muscles the cool trickle touched.
“Using your little brother as a wing-man?” I asked.
Lachlan shrugged. “Did it work?”
“No.”
“Strange.” He nudged his brother. “You’re not gonna find a cuter kid anywhere.”
Sebastian took great offense to that. “I’m not cute.”
“Shut up. You’re adorable.” Lachlan messed with his hair.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re so desperate.”
“Since when are flowers desperate?”
“Since you used your little brother to score you points.”
Lachlan faked an irritated glance at the kid. “What the heck. I told you to play it cool, little man.”
“Oh my God, you bribed him?”
Lachlan rolled his eyes. “Only twenty bucks.”
“And?” Sebastian crossed his arms. “Ice cream? Remember?”
“And ice cream.”
“With sprinkles.”
“Oh no.” Lachlan shook his head. “I said you’d get sprinkles when you got me the date. No date, no sprinkles.”
“No fair!”
“Heartbreak hurts us all, Bast.”
Sebastian stomped his feet. “My name isn’t Bast.”
Lachlan winked at me. “Shush, Bast. Be chill, little man.”
“I’m Sebastian.”
“You want that ice cream?”
“Yes!”
“Then your name is Bast. Here.” He tossed the kid a ball bigger than his head. “Knock yourself out.”
“When do I get my ice cream?”
“Right after my annulment,” Lachlan said.
Sebastian crinkled his nose. “Your annul-what?”
“Never mind. Just sit there and look cute. You’re helping.”
I laughed as Sebastian dove again at his brother, but Lachlan was too quick. He darted over the sideline, leaping a bench to get away from the kid. The athletic gene ran in the family. Sebastian hobbled over the bench too, emitting a high-pitched warning charge as Lachlan ducked through the offense.
Both boys twisted around Jack before the team ganged up on Lachlan. He captured Sebastian in his arms just in time, warding away the offensive line’s aimed water bottles and towels coiled to flick.
“A wing-man and human shield?” I shook my head. Lachlan twisted his brother onto his shoulders for a piggy-back ride. “Does your mother know you’re manhandling him?”
“Sure. I told her I’d take him for the night.”
“Did you tell her you’d give him ice cream if he successfully wooed me?”
Lachlan’s dimples needed to come with a warning. No girl should have stared directly into that charm. “You’re not going to deny a little boy his sprinkles, are you?”
I crossed my arms. “Sebastian, I’ll tell you want. If he wants me to consider his offer, he better get you double sprinkles and whipped cream.”
The boy cheered. Lachlan winked.
“You should know; I’m willing to include whipped cream on all of our dates too.”
“Is that so?”
Sebastian tugged on Lachlan’s hair. “But no nuts.”
He frowned. “Why not, little man?”
Sebastian pointed to the offense. “Because you told the other football players you’d bust the nuts with her.”
Lachlan cringed. “O-kay. Let’s…not repeat that when you go home to Mom.”
“Why not?” Sebastian asked.
I shrugged. “Yeah, Charming. Why not?”
“Mom is very sensitive about…” He twitched. “Her ice cream toppings. Why don’t you go play with the ball?”
Sebastian frowned at his brother. “But you said you wanted Elle to play with the balls.”
“You’re killing me, Bast.”
I glanced over my shoulder for a moment too long. Peter was gone, but that just made the problem worse.
Ice cream, even without sprinkles, sounded so much better than a conspiracy in Gainesville.
“You okay?” Lachlan hoisted Sebastian higher onto his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Uh…” What was I supposed to say? “Nothing. I just got a bunch of new responsibilities today.”
Lachlan perked up. “Like a promotion?”
“Sure. Something like that.”
“We should celebrate! Let me take you out to dinner. Three times.”
“Lachlan—”
He wasn’t listening. He pinched Sebastian’s leg to get his attention. “Say the line, little man.”
Sebastian flailed, knocking on his head with a tiny fist until he remembered what Lachlan had coached him to say.
“Oh! Right!” The words blubbered out in a steady stream with no real cadence or rhythm. “Lachlan is a lot of fun. You should go out with him because…because you would have lots of fun. And he’s good to have fun with.”
Lachlan nodded. “Smooth, Casanova.”
“He also talked about your butt. I heard him.”
Lachlan shrugged, and Sebastian nearly tumbled from his back. The kid grabbed him like a rodeo bronco, but both of them liked that. Lachlan bucked harder to toss him off.
“I don’t know why you want to be friends with girls.” Sebastian tugged on Lachlan’s hair.
“Not just any girl, little man.” Lachlan grinned at me. “This girl.”
“Oh, very nice,” I said. “Hell, I’ll pay him twenty bucks for this performance.”
“Do I get a date?”
“Nope.”
Lachlan winked. “I won’t stop chasing you, Red.”
Even though I couldn’t say it, I was happy for the distraction. I winked before leaving.
“I’d be very disappointed if you did.”
6
Lachlan
I made a lot of rookie mistakes the first few practices of training camp. Missed a couple passes. Ran the wrong routes. Let myself get taped to the goal posts for the second time.
But the worst mistake of all was missing Cole Hawthorne’s blitz during full-pad practice. He drilled my ass into the field, and I was pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes. At least I got an encore show of me and Elle in Vegas. That made the pain worth it.
I blinked on the ground, gasping. I could still breathe. That was good. Meant Cole hadn’t ripped holes through my chest on his way to Jack.
Coach Thompson blew his whistle before Cole ripped our quarterback in two, though Jack scrambled anyway, just in case The Beast forgot he had been traded to our team last season.
“Reed!”
Coach Thompson wasn’t a patient man. He grabbed my shoulder pads and hauled me to my feet.
“What the hell are you doing out there?” He yelled and accidentally spitting in my face. Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. “You realize you’re supposed to be playing football, rookie? It sure as hell doesn’t look like you understand a goddamned thing that’s happening out there!”
I jerked a thumb toward the field. Even that hurt. My entire body was one bruised and pulled muscle. My eyes hurt. My teeth hurt. My pride hurt.
I tried to explain. “I misread—”
“So you can’t block a linebacker. That’s good to know.”
“I can block—”
“If I get Carson to throw you the fucking ball, are you gonna catch it this time? Or you think you’ll bat it away again like some prissy fucked schoolgirl?”
“I thought—”
“No. You don’t think. You do what I tell you. You block who I tell you to block. You catch the balls I tell you to catch. Say yes, coach.”
The field quieted. Everyone watched. Just my luck. I gritted my teeth.
“Yes, coach.”
“We only got a six-week training camp, rookie. Start figuring out what the fuck you’re doing on my field.”
“Don’t worry about me, Coach. I got this covered.”
“You think so? Then tell me why I’m bitch-slapping our first-round draft choice after every goddamned play. What’s the problem? Is it too hot out here for you?”
“No, Coach.”
“Is it harder than you thought it’d be?”
Yes.
“No, Coach.”
“You miss playing in college?”
Certainly felt more welcoming.
“No, Coach.”
“Maybe you were hot shit on campus, rookie. But here you’re just the filth we scrape off the bottom of our cleats.”
It took a lot to piss me off, but we were getting pretty damn close. “Yes, Coach.”
“You better shape the fuck up. Memorize the playbook. Run the routes. Block the pass rushers. Keep Hawthorne ou
t of the goddamned backfield. Do your goddamned job or you won’t have one by the end of this camp.”
“Yes, Coach.”
He’d already walked away, blowing the whistle to dismiss the team from practice.
Fuck me.
I stayed behind, gathering the team’s equipment. It was worse after practice, when I was tired and irritated. Jack waited by his bag, sipping Gatorade before tossing his gear at me.
“You good?” Jack asked, watching as I hobbled with his stuff, Cole’s pads, and two of Bryon’s bags—that cocksucker filled his duffle with extra bricks to piss me off.
“Yeah. Me and Coach Thompson had a nice heart-to-heart.”
“From where I was standing, it looked more like your lips to his ass.”
“He said his piece. I said mine. We’re on the same page now.”
“I know that page. Looks like a pink slip.”
“Anyone ever tell you what a funny asshole you are?”
“Easy, rookie.” He slapped my shoulder with a grin. “You’re doing fine. It’ll take some adjustment. And everyone’s gonna piss off the coach at one point. Gotta make the example out of you since you’re the playboy.”
More like whipping boy. “I’ll take one for the team.”
“Yeah, you’re real magnanimous. Who you gonna marry now to get him off your ass?”
“You, Jack. Told him the truth about us. Said we were real cuddle-buddies.”
“Just as long as everyone knows I’m the big spoon.”
We dumped the equipment in the facility, and I took my shower. But before I could leave for the night, the guys hollered at me and the other two offensive rookies.
“You’re meeting us at McCree’s Bar in an hour,” Caleb said. “You rookies owe us a round.”
More than a round I bet.
As much as I loved a good hazing, nothing good happened when half the team got blitzed. At least in public, our shampoo bottles wouldn’t mysteriously fill with stone-ground mustard, and our clothes wouldn’t magically transform into tutus and Little Bo Peep costumes.
It’d be an expensive night, probably dropping a grand on food and drink for the guys, but I expected it. Just part of paying my dues. I promised to get to the bar early enough to reserve the tables, but my path out of the facility was blocked. I spun the corner only to come face-to-face with a gallon of attitude stuffed into a pint-sized cup.