The Secret Play (Pucking Daddies #3)

8. Gemma

Chapter 8

Gemma

T he sound of my phone vibrating against the desk startled me out of the trance I’d been in while reading the comments section on my latest article.

Normally, I avoided the comments like the plague, but today, I couldn’t help myself.

The piece—an in-depth interview with Coach Casey McConnell about his coaching philosophy and the culture of the Atlanta Fire—had been up for less than a day, and it was already blowing up.

"Smart, insightful, and a great read," one commenter had written.

"Finally, something positive about the Fire in the press!" said another.

Admittedly, I might have slanted the puff piece a little more in his favor than a reputable journalist should have, but I didn’t care. I wanted the city to see him the way I saw him.

The man who had fixed the Fire.

I clicked out of the page and leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It was good press for the team, yes, but it was also good for me.

My editor had already sent a gushing email that morning, asking if I had any other ideas for Fire-related pieces. I could practically hear the excitement in his voice when he mentioned the spike in web traffic.

“I knew you’d be a great fit here,” he’d written. “More interviews like this, Gemma. Keep them coming.”

It was exactly the kind of validation I’d been hoping for when I’d taken this job, but it left me feeling conflicted. I wanted to succeed, yes, but my budding…whatever-it-was with Casey complicated things.

I didn’t want to use him for clicks. According to Nico, he’d been hesitant to agree to the interview in the first place, and while it had turned out well, I didn’t want him to feel like I was exploiting our connection for my career.

Then there was the other issue: Nico.

My brother was protective on a good day and downright territorial when it came to the people he cared about.

If he found out I was seeing his coach he’d lose his mind.

There was an unspoken code about sisters being off-limits, and while I wasn’t about to let my brother dictate my love life, I also didn’t want to make things harder for Nico or Casey at work.

“Gemma,” Megan’s voice broke through my thoughts. She leaned against the doorway to my home office, holding a steaming mug of tea. “Why are you smiling like that? Did someone send you another email about how brilliant you are?”

“No,” I said quickly, though my cheeks heated. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” she asked, setting the mug on my desk and settling into the chair opposite me.

I hesitated for half a second before deciding to tell her the truth. Megan was my best friend. She knew everything about me, and there was no way I could keep this from her any longer. Besides, if I didn’t spill, she’d probably drag it out of me eventually.

“Okay,” I said, sitting up straighter. “The other night when I told you I had a work thing that I needed you to babysit Winnie for?—”

“It was really a date, right?”

I gulped. “How did you know?

“Because you came back giddy like you used to when you got laid in high school,” she said, her eyebrows arching.

I’d forgotten all about that. “Wait—so you knew?”

“Duh. I’ve only known you since we were assigned seats in Mrs. Wilson’s class in third grade. Of course I knew. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you’re building up to.”

“I wanted to tell you about the date, actually. It?—”

“Was a perfect fairytale?”

I snickered. “Actually, no. It went terribly wrong. The waiter spilled wine on him, the food was awful, a kid stole my purse, his credit card got declined, and we ended up soaked in the rain.”

Megan looked horrified. “Then why are you smiling while telling me about it?”

“Because he called me this morning to ask me out on another date.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Megan said, holding up a hand. “He called you? Like, on the phone? Who does that?”

“Apparently, older guys,” I said, laughing.

“How much older are we talking?”

I took a breath, hoping she wouldn’t judge me for it. “He’s forty-eight.”

“That’s…nineteen years older than us.”

“Trust me, I’ve done the math.” Too many times. “Is that weird?”

She frowned and thought about it. “It’s not normal, and is therefore weird, but do I think it’s bad? Not really. You’re both adults. I’m pretty much of the opinion that as long as everyone involved is over twenty-five, do whatever you want.”

Thinking about that night, I couldn’t help but sigh. “I did. I really, really did.”

“The sex was that good?”

“Good is an insufficient word for it. The man knows his way around a woman’s body.”

“Well he should. He was there when Eve was made from Adam’s rib.”

I smacked her shoulder. “Hey.”

She only grinned. “Oh, come on. You’re dating a fossil and I can’t say anything about it?”

“He’s not that old.”

“Okay, sure. But seriously, you think this might go somewhere?”

“Maybe.” I thought about it. In fact, it was all I’d been thinking about. Looking at my comment section had been a distraction from it, but in the back of my mind, the question had lingered. “He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever dated before, Meg.”

“How so?”

“There’s no games, no guessing. He’s…direct.”

“Well, yeah. He used his phone for a phone call.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I like that. It’s weird. I mean, what’s wrong with texting?”

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “But there’s something charming about a guy who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it to you.”

Megan stared at me for a moment, then leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

“I think I am.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to process this. You’re dating a guy old enough to have a landline.”

I tossed a pen at her. “Stop. He’s not that old.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, her tone more serious now. “So, are you going to tell me who he is?”

My stomach sank. But if I couldn’t trust Megan, I couldn’t trust anyone. “The coach of the Atlanta Fire.”

Her mouth dropped open. “The guy you interviewed? The guy who coaches your brother’s team? That coach?”

“Yeah.”

She blew out a breath. “Are you sure this is a good idea? That could get messy.”

“I know,” I said, my smile fading. “But we’re keeping it quiet for now. Just until we figure out what this is.”

She nodded slowly, though she still looked skeptical. “Okay. But if Nico finds out and loses his mind, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Noted.” But the memory of our rainy night sex hit me hard. “Meg, this is bad. I can’t stop thinking about the sex.”

“Need me to distract you or do you want to talk about it some more?”

“He just…the way he kisses, the way he touches me, it’s electric. It took all the strength I had to leave him that night, and after the sex, I had almost none to speak of.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Well—”

“No, I meant in a good way.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Just then, my phone buzzed on the desk, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Casey’s name on the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” Megan said, smirking. “Are you going to answer?”

“Of course,” I said, picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Casey said, his voice warm and steady. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about our next date,” he said. “Maybe this time we try something a little less…disastrous.”

I laughed, glancing at Megan, who was now pretending to type furiously on her phone to give me some privacy. But I knew she could hear everything. “I’d like that,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a rib joint downtown I’ve been meaning to check out,” he said. “It’s laid-back, good music, good drinks. I think you’d like it.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “How’s Friday?”

I mouthed the question to Megan, and she nodded, my babysitter guaranteed. “Friday works.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said. “And, Gemma?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you said yes.”

The line went quiet, and I stared at my phone for a moment, a stupid grin plastered across my face.

“Okay, I take it back,” Megan said, leaning forward. “That was kind of adorable.”

“Told you.”

But as the excitement settled into something quieter, I couldn’t help but wonder where this was all heading. Casey was unlike anyone I’d ever dated—older, steadier, and completely uninterested in playing games. It scared me a little. In a good way.