“No, I’m not saying that.” I giggled. He sure had one convincing way to make a woman want to know everything about the sport.
“Okay, I’ve got to go, but it starts in twenty minutes. I’ll be on the sideline, of course.”
“You better be.” I knew I sounded stern. “Oh wait, before you go. Good news, Dr. Evans said he’ll take you on. You’re no longer my patient.” I held my breath, waiting for what Wes would say. Did things change today? Did it still matter to him?
“That’s the best fucking news I’ve heard.”
“Then, this is still…” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. We hadn’t put a label on it. There wasn’t a definition for what we had started together. It was new.
“Yes, this is still.” He laughed. “Baby, I’ll call you later. I’ve got to walk out with the team.”
“Good luck. I hope you guys win.”
“Thanks.” He hung up and I hugged the phone to my chest. So this must be what cheerleaders in high school felt like when they pulled for their boyfriends on the field. I was always the one at the library, never at the game. But somehow, I had turned into that girl. The one who was going to watch her man at the football game, even if he was on the sideline tonight.
I poured a glass of wine and turned on the TV. Other than yesterday, this was the first time I was making it a point to watch an AFA game. It was weird. I felt kind of nervous, even though he wasn’t playing. I felt the butterflies lift off when I saw the camera pan to him on the sideline. Damn it. He wasn’t wearing his sling. What the hell? I knew I wasn’t his doctor anymore, but I explicitly explained he had to wear it at all times if he wanted to heal those bones.
I was startled when I saw a beautiful brunette sidle up to him and shove a microphone in his face. She looked like a super model.
“I’m talking with Wes Blake
field, Wranglers star quarterback. Wes, we’ve heard some things about your hand. Can you clear up the rumors that you won’t be playing in the play off games?”
He flashed a gorgeous smile at her and I felt a pit of anger. Was he flirting with the sports reporter?
“Hey, Becky.”
She smiled. “What do you want to tell Wranglers fans?”
“As you can see, no cast, no sling. I’m just taking an extra week for precautionary measures. Wranglers fans don’t need to worry.” He rubbed the side of his sculpted jaw. “Easy sprain to recover from, and I have the best doctor looking after me.”
I eyed him through my TV screen. Easy sprain my ass—I had kicked butt on his surgery. There was nothing easy about putting someone’s hand back together.
“What do you think about Cosech starting tonight?” she asked.
“He’s been working through the drills and running these plays all season. He’s ready. And I’m really happy he gets a Monday night start.”
I rolled my eyes. I knew none of that was true. Wes was pissed the other guy was on the field instead of him, but at the same time, I was amazed at how convincing he could be. Becky sure seemed to believe him.
“Thanks for taking a minute for me, Wes.”
“Anything for you, Becky.” He tapped her on the back before turning toward his team’s bench.
I knew I was shooting daggers at my television screen, and I didn’t care. Professional flirt didn’t even begin to cover what he was. I settled onto the couch to watch the game. The first quarter was about to start.
13
Wes
That damn Becky Haley had to ask about my hand. I hoped without the sling it would look normal. As if the team had intentionally started Cosech to rest me up for the bigger, more important games coming up after the bye week. At least she didn’t ask for details on the sprain.
I grabbed a set of headphones and listened in to the plays coming in from the offensive coordinator in the booth at the top of the stadium. I couldn’t see Ross from down here, but I knew he had eagle eyes on the field. He was plotting the Warriors’ defense before they were.
I heard the play call and groaned. They had to change things to match Cosech’s abilities. He didn’t have the arm I had, but running every damn play wasn’t going to work. I watched as the quarterback handed the ball off to Persons and watched the running back get tackled before he even crossed the line of scrimmage. Fuck.
There were enough Warriors fans in the stadium to jeer at us. I looked up at the booth, knowing Ross was scrambling for another play. He called in another run, this time to the right.
Again, the Warriors read the call and Persons barely made it two yards. It was third down and I could feel it. We were going nowhere on this drive. But I kept my mouth shut. Cameras were on me. Fans were watching me. I had to act as if this was all part of our offensive plan to upend the Warriors’ defense. I tried to relax my shoulders and flatten the furrow on my brow, but I was fucking pissed. We blew the last play and had to punt.