Chapter Eight #2
As soon as I step into the press room and next to Coach on the press podium, everyone is on me with questions.
Coach continues, unperturbed, “As I was saying, we’re ready for next week’s game.
Tonight was merely a warm-up, and with the guys we have on the field this year, we’re expecting great things from them and the team as a whole.
Now, I’ll hand you over to JJ, as I know he’s the one you really want to speak to tonight.
” The room is filled with quiet laughter when he steps around me.
His hand lands on my shoulder with a light squeeze. “You got this, QB.”
“Thanks, Coach.” I turn to the waiting reporters and journalists in front of me.
Releasing a sigh, I dive right in. “I’d like to make a statement before I take questions.
Yes, I was at that lumber store you’re all hearing about.
Yes, I stepped in to offer my help in a potentially scary situation and offered my opinion to another customer when I thought they might be in danger.
No, I will not give out her information, nor tell you any details.
She’s safe, the police were quick to respond, and I’m grateful it didn’t escalate past that point.
Anyone digging into more than that should stop. ”
I draw in a quick breath before asking, “Now, who has questions about tonight’s game?
” I glance up from the podium I’m standing behind, which holds the microphone, to be met with stunned expressions and silence as everyone processes what I’ve said.
They’re not used to me being blunt about any headlines or rumors, only about football, so it’s the last thing they are all expecting.
A beat later, Joanna McKnight’s hand shoots up.
She’s a reporter for Sports Media BS, probably the most well-known sports channel and programming in the world.
She’s in a royal blue power suit tonight, giving off the vibe she means business.
“There are rumors that you’ve been spotted out with a woman.
Is it the same woman from the kidnapping attempt? ”
“Next question.” I choose to politely ignore her as I ask the others, glancing around the room. This is a football press conference, not an inside look at my personal life.
Brad Willmington from the New York Bulletin newspaper and online news site jumps in next. “JJ, any comment on if she’ll be coming to one of your games? Perhaps next week?”
Exhaling, I silently pray for patience. I literally told them I would not be answering questions pertaining to Kinsley, yet they’re still digging.
“Out of all the questions you want to ask, you really don’t have anything related to the team or our game today?
How about next week? Only questions not related to the woman everyone is curious about. ”
I get a couple of run-of-the-mill inquiries about how I’m feeling and where I see our season going this year, but in the end, they all allude back to Kinsley.
I’m tired, frustrated, and worried she’ll see any of it, even catch a blip of the press tonight, and I’ll lose any chance I have with her.
Dawson thankfully takes my place soon after, and then I’m able to escape the facility without running into my coach, the owner, or Parker, so I call that a win.
It doesn’t normally bother me to go over the game or whatever with them afterwards, but I only have one thing on my mind, and it’s talking to Kinsley.
I head for my vehicle, already texting my mom that I’ll be staying the night tonight at her place, but I won’t arrive until late.
I keep some clothes there in her spare bedroom for when I visit, so I don’t even have to stop by my house before I head out of town.
I shoot Dawson a text asking him to grab my dog on his way home, and I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.
He knows I’m stressed, so he won’t mind the short notice. He’s a good dog uncle and friend.
Once I’m buckled in behind the wheel and hitting I-35 south, I finally release an exhale of relief.
The drive feels like it takes forever after playing a strenuous game today.
I probably shouldn’t have driven this far away from the stadium, being as I don’t pull up to Kinsley’s lot until after one a.m..
I leave the truck running since I’m parked directly outside her gate.
I’ll just send her a quick text, and if she doesn’t answer, I’ll come back tomorrow.
Me: Hey, you up? I know it’s late, so I hope I’m not waking you up.
I should’ve stopped by Sonic and picked up a flavored tea or Dr. Pepper for her on my way. Next time. This woman will get used to princess treatment from me if I have anything to say about it.
Kinsley: I’m awake, just lying in bed reading. What are you doing?
Me: I’m parked outside your place. I thought it’d be better if I saw you in person so we could talk.
Three dots pop up as she types. They disappear, then reappear five or so times more, before they stop completely.
I’m starting to think I blew it completely by coming here so late.
She’s not a booty call, and I never want her to feel like I’m treating her that way.
One a.m. is definitely within the booty call timeframe.
My attention’s drawn to the front of my truck as she opens the gate a bit, slipping through.
I shut the truck off and climb out, wondering what made me think showing up out of the blue would be okay.
People don’t do that. They call or even text ahead of time, giving the other person a warning and time to prepare if preparing is needed.
There’s something about this woman that has me falling all over myself, stumbling as I attempt to navigate things with her.
I’ve liked her too much from the moment I met her, and it shows.
I’ve never been the type of guy to question everything.
Especially myself, let alone my worth, where another person is concerned.
My mother taught me to answer to myself in the mirror every day, not anyone else.
Yet, somehow, Kinsley bypasses everything ingrained in me.
I take in the stunning woman before me; she’s got hot pink framed glasses on, and her hair wrapped up in a bun on top of her head.
Pair it with the fresh pink-faced, and flamingo short pajama set she’s got on, and she’s not just beautiful, she’s adorable.
However, I don’t think she’d take it the same way as I mean it if I tell her she’s adorable.
She’s perfect in the mussed-up bed look.
She’s sleepy but still somehow manages to pull off being attractive in the same boat.
My dick is instantly stiff, which is a no-go in these loose-fitting basketball shorts.
They have a way of advertising everything going on down south.
I usually wear them from the stadium to my house, so it’s not a big deal, but here I am free balling it, and my dick likes what I’m seeing right now.
It’s silently begging me to snuggle up next to her in bed and then eat her pussy until she can’t remember her own name anymore.
“I promise this isn’t a booty call,” I start with, as soon as I’m close enough to touch her.
Her brows skyrocket, and I immediately try to backtrack.
“Not that I’m thinking of booty calls or anything, I just had to put that out there.
Of course I want to, but I know it’s too soon and I’m not here to put pressure on you.
Jesus, you look so damn cute in the pink frames and pajamas. I’m screwing this up, aren’t I?”
She grins, a quiet laugh leaving her, making my belly flip with the warm-fuzzies that being around her always seems to give me.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. I already said that and thought it many times over, but I’m stunned.
Caught off guard, I don’t know what I was expecting by coming here unannounced.
Maybe my subconscious thought she’d be in bed and I’d be forced to wait until tomorrow or something, but here we are, face to face, and I’m being a goober, rambling on and on.
“Want to come in? You’re not scared of dogs, are you?”
I shake my head. “I mean, yes. Or no. Scratch that,” I release a sigh of frustration. “Yes, I want to come in. No, I’m not afraid of big dogs. Love them, in fact.”
Her smile is wider this time as she reaches for my hand.
I tug her with me to the open truck door, reaching in for my wallet and keys.
Once I stuff the wallet in my pocket, I shut the door, hit the lock button so the truck beeps and the headlights flash, then she’s opening the privacy fence again.
She widens it enough so we can both slide through by turning sideways.
She slips a lock in place, then pulls me along.
“Sorry, my dogs are out here. They have to be nosy every time I come outside.”
“That’s good, at least they’re around to help keep you safe,” I murmur and am met with a pleased nod.
One barks, backing up as it takes me in, while the other notices I’m holding on to her mom, and her little nub begins wagging a million miles an hour.
Kinsley’s yard is set up with lighting all over the place, so there are no dark corners, and frankly, it’s a relief to know she’s smart about keeping things well-lit and locked while living alone.
I wish my mom would listen to me when I try to get her on board like this.
“Nice setup,” I compliment, staring at her garden as we pass by.
She’s a busy woman; the garden alone rivals mine, and I have help maintaining mine.
She’s turned this place into her own little slice of heaven, and I like it a lot.
Looks like she’s got watermelon and pumpkins growing along her fence lines, and then toward the back, some sort of bushes. Roses, maybe?
“Thanks, come inside so we can sit in the air conditioning.”