I stared at her. “Really? No idea?”
She shook her head. “It was never a line. I seriously know nothing about your career or much about football, but I have picked up a lot as a Goddess. We have to go to football class during our summer training camp.”
“So if I quiz you, you think you’d pass?” I added cream to the eggs and whipped furiously. How could she not have heard of my record?
“I think I would. I can hold my own in a conversation with the girls.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, but those girls aren’t professional football players.”
“True, but I’d bet I could pass.”
“Want to make a bet?”
She twisted her pouty lips together. “What kind of bet?”
“If you win.” I stopped. “What do you want if you win?”
She pressed her finger to her chin. “I want a full-body massage. Naked.”
“That sounds like a win for me, but okay. If you win, you get a massage.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
“If I win, you try on those pointe shoes for me and let me watch you spin around the studio.”
The smile fell from her face. “Sam, I was trying to be funny.”
“I’m being serious. Take the bet. Prove to me you can pass a football quiz.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. And you’ll be thanking me, because your hands will be all over this body you own.” She eyed me.
“Either way I win.” I winked at her. I turned toward the stove to layer in the first omelet. “Here’s your first question. How many quarters are in a game?”
“Really? That’s insulting. Four.”
“Ding, ding, for the ballerina.” I watched to make sure the edges on the omelet didn’t brown too much. “Second question. How many players are on the field during a play?”
She scrunched her nose. “Twenty-four?”
“Err. No. Twenty-two. But that’s okay. It’s one to one.”
She folded her arms. “Next.”
I flipped the omelet over. “Okay, for your next question can you name four different offensive positions?”
“Easily. Quarterback, wide receiver, tight end,” she paused to smile. “And.” She blinked a few times. “And…”
“Err. That is incorrect. You could have said running back, kicker. I’d take lineman or center. But that’s okay. You were close.”
She scowled at me. And I felt one question away from watching her dance for me.
“For the final question. For my victory question.” I winked at her. “What is the play called a safety?”
“That is not a fair question. Who knows what that is?”
“Err, also incorrect. A safety is when the team who has the ball is tackled in their own end zone, resulting in two points for the other team.”
“Two points? I’ve never heard of it.”