“I don’t need a babysitter,” the yogi huffed from the window.
“She’s slippery,” Thad said. “Don’t let her get away from you.”
“I am not slip—”
“Got it,” Clint said. “Can I make out with her?”
Bastard. “You can try. Doubt you’ll succeed.” On the other hand, Clint was a good-looking guy, and he met The Diva’s most important requirement in a lover: no possibility of a relationship.
Thad eyeballed The Diva. “Clint’s not the brightest guy in the world, and sex is the only way he knows how to relate to women. I don’t think you’ll fall for his routine, but if you do . . . make sure he’s got that herpes outbreak under control.”
Clint laughed and pounded Thad extra hard on the back. “You’re one of a kind, dude.”
The Diva smiled. “I don’t need a babysitter, but it would be lovely to be with someone who’s not bossing me around.”
“I know what you mean,” Clint said. “Boy, do I ever know what you mean.”
Thad glared at him. “Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Roger that.”
Thad met his pals that night, but he didn’t have a good time. He was too busy thinking about what might be going on back at the hotel.
* * *
“That part always gets me.” Clint’s voice was suspiciously woolly with emotion. “‘You complete me.’ Everybody talks about that other thing. That ‘had me at hello’ thing, but when he says, ‘You complete me.’ What kind of dude says something like that? But still . . . It gets me.”
Olivia wiped her eyes as the credits rolled on Jerry Maguire. “Why have I never seen this movie? I know why. Because I thought it was about football.”
“Not enough action.” Recovering from his brief emotional display, he draped his arm over the back of the couch. “If T-Bo asks, tell him we watched The Waterboy.”
The leg she’d been sitting on had gone to sleep, and she pulled it out from under her. “Isn’t that one of those Adam Sandler movies?”
He nodded. “It’s most players’ favorite.”
“Because Jerry Maguire is too girlie, right?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
“Then what would you say?”
“It’s too girlie.”
She laughed and rose from the couch, wriggling her numb leg to get the blood moving again. “I’m going to bed, and you don’t have to stay. Really. Thad’s being ridiculous.”
“S’okay. I’ll just hang out here for a while.”
“Don’t be such a wimp. You’re not his bitch.”
“Says you.”
“You shouldn’t let him talk to you like he does.” She sat back down. “I did a little research, and you have a higher quarterback rating after your second season than Dean Robillard did, and I know he’s supposed to have been this big shot Stars player. But Thad treats you like you’re a high school kid.”
Clint nodded. “In football, you have to earn respect.”
“And you haven’t done that?”
“Not the kind of respect I want from him.”