The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

10. All the Second Things

10

ALL THE SECOND THINGS

Luke

Two things are on my mind the next day as I sit down for lunch with my agent, Maddox LeGrande. First, can I get a contract extension early?

Second, how many times did Tanner?—

Nope. Must stop thinking about the second thing.

Especially during a business meeting with my new representation. My last agent barely returned a phone call. Felt like I was chasing him all the time, so Tanner referred me to his guy, and I switched a month ago.

Maddox and I grab a table at Greens & Grub in Murray Hill. He’s based in San Francisco, but he flew in last night after a few quick trips to Miami and then London, and he looks no worse for the world-beater travel. The man is dressed sharp in a crisp shirt and a purple tie. He never dresses down. He always looks the part.

“Thanks for making time to see me while I’m in town,” he says, downplaying how absolutely mission-critical he is to my life.

I laugh at his humility. “Dude. I will see you in town, out of town, anytime. You’re the man.”

He smiles. “I try.”

“So, favorite agent in the universe, think you can work your magic and get me a five-year deal before training camp?” I ask with a straight face.

Fake it till you make it and all.

To his credit, Maddox doesn’t laugh at my pie-in-the-sky wishes. The man is thoughtful and measured, and even though he’s no doubt used to me shooting from the hip in the few weeks we’ve worked together, he always takes me seriously. “I can try,” he says carefully. His tone says it’s unlikely, but he’ll fight for me anyway. “Is that your top goal, Luke?”

“I’m dying for the Leopards to get all kinds of serious with me.”

He slides me a menu. “Let’s order and talk about what’s doable.”

Sweet. I didn’t think he’d even consider my wild idea.

I scan the offerings, then snap the cardboard folder shut when I decide quickly. As Maddox reads the menu, I glance around the happening eatery with bright white walls and blond hardwood floors. The place is packed with trendy lunch crowds, but I’m barely noticing the other patrons. Once again, with every free second I have, I’m lingering on the second thing on my mind.

Yesterday with Tanner has been running on a loop in my head since I left his apartment. How good his lips felt on my dick. How incredible his hands felt all over my body.

I’m not ashamed to say I’ve jacked it a few times since I left his place.

On my couch last night while I watched an action flick. In bed this morning after I woke up. In the shower before lunch an hour ago.

Did Tanner do the same?

I picture him naked under a hot stream of water, letting one hand slide down his chest on a slow path toward that beautiful dick. Working that wrist. Who knew my good friend had such a fantastic cock?

“And what would you like, sir?”

What?

Oh, hell. I took a leisurely boat to Horndog Island.

I snap my focus to the server in a burlap apron who’s at our table, asking for my order.

“The sweet potato and chicken quinoa, please,” I say, with more pep than a lunch order calls for. But I’m hoping it covers up the mental tour I was taking.

Maddox opts for a seared salmon and when the server walks away, my agent meets my gaze again. “So, the auction was fun?”

A spark of lust barrels down my spine. “Yeah, it was a blast.”

And then yesterday was too.

“Good. I’m glad to see you doing things like that. I know you want to raise your profile,” he says. “I saw some media outlets picked it up too.”

Is that good or bad? Sometimes Maddox is so calm, it’s hard to read him. And I don’t like to google myself. I did that for a while when I started last year. But the coverage and the criticism—all normal, Tanner reassured me—sent me spiraling. “What did they say?” I ask, trying to sound cool.

Did someone see me smash my mouth to Tanner’s in the cave yesterday? I’ve got to be careful. I don’t want my private life showing up in the news.

“Just that you were a good sport and a generous one to bid that big on a friend,” he says. “Also, that you should host the Oscars.”

I laugh, my shoulders relaxing. “That so?”

“Apparently Trish thinks your emcee skills might be exactly what the awards show needs.”

I preen. “She’s not wrong. Except. Wait. I don’t watch the Oscars.”

“Let’s just assume she’s not wrong,” he says. “Anyway, I was happy to see the reports.”

“Good,” I say, then I cut to the chase. “I’m a little antsy to lock it up with my team and this city.”

“Tell me what you want in a deal. The more I know, the better I can ask for what you need,” Maddox says.

I draw a deep breath for fuel. I don’t love being vulnerable like this. Doesn’t benefit me on the field, that’s for sure. But I need Maddox to go to bat for me so I’ve got to be open with him.

I lean forward and keep my voice low. “It’s embarrassing how long it’s taken me to get where I am. I’m twenty-eight. I rode the bench for years. I’ve already accrued enough time in the league that I’ll be a free agent at the end of the upcoming season. And I only have one year as a starter. It’s ridiculous,” I say, ashamed of the sound of my career summary. I had big dreams as a college starter. Bigger ones when I won a Bowl.

But they’ve always been just out of reach since I was drafted.

“I get that it feels ridiculous, but every path is different,” he says gently.

I grit my teeth, wishing my long and winding road didn’t bug me so much. “Not gonna lie. It’s been hard watching guys who were drafted with me vault forward in their career. I want security,” I say, shifting in my chair. “For myself. For my family. The Leopards aren’t my first team. I bounced around as a backup at a couple teams before I landed here,” I say. I was drafted by the Seattle Wolves, traded to the Vegas Pioneers, then traded here a couple years ago to back up the last QB, Jefferson Greene. But he went down with an injury twelve months ago, and that got me the starting gig. Maddox knows all this but I say it anyway. “And I saw what happened to Greene. They let him go after his injury.”

“They did. But he was picked up by Dallas, and he’ll do fine there. You don’t need to worry about his future. And we can’t deny that it’s been a good thing for you. You had a terrific first season as a starter.”

I eke out a smile. My stats last year were near the top of the league. I was lucky enough to have one of those where did he come from seasons. “But I don’t want to be a flash in the pan,” I say.

“I’ve talked to the GM. They’ll be counting on you as their go-to guy again this season,” he says.

My heart beats uncomfortably fast. I squirm a little. “So do you think there’s a chance I can get a renewal before the season starts? Or do I need to wait?”

Translation: how short is the leash if I have a bad game? But I don’t even want to breathe that fear out loud.

To a soul.

Maddox exhales deeply. “I don’t know. But I’m going to do everything I can to make it happen. I have a meeting with the GM later this week. I don’t have to tell you that a good quarterback is the most prized possession in the NFL. You know that. They know that. And you’re a good quarterback,” he says, then goes on to talk about his strategy and approach with such surety that I can’t help but believe in his ability all over again.

His steady confidence is a balm to my nerves.

We talk some more over lunch, then when we’re done, he smiles and says, “I’m glad Tanner introduced us. I truly appreciate the chance to rep you.”

My skin goes hot at the mention of my friend. Hot and bothered, and maybe even a little hopeful.

For tonight?

But then again, what the hell is tonight? Just a pic and a beer. A redo, that’s all.

We probably shouldn’t let it go to the bedroom. One time is safer.

“Yeah, me too,” I say to Maddox, fighting again to stay in the moment.

“And I’m heading to his game tonight with some other clients. Want to come?”

I sit straighter, excitement pinging through me as I answer with the world’s fastest hell yes .

Because I love sports.

The fact I keep thinking about my friend’s cock has nothing to do with it.