Chapter 10
Connor
I damn near spit out my coffee when I saw her.
I got there early, so I was sitting at a table, scrolling through my phone, and when I glanced up, I saw someone wearing one of those bizarre cat backpacks, where some poor feline could gawk out at the world from where it was imprisoned.
That was maybe a little harsh, but they were ridiculous.
But as I made eye contact with the cat, I realized he was in the middle of having a total shit fit. The cat was squirming around and meowing, and even though you could barely hear the little guy, it was obvious it was not having the time of its life.
Which made the backpack jerk around on its owner’s back.
That cannot be comfortable.
I watched in amusement for a minute before the owner turned to the side and I saw her profile.
Holy shit—it was Duffy.
I got up and walked over, trying my damnedest not to laugh as I approached her from behind.
“Good morning, Distefano,” I said, feeling a jolt of something when she turned and her eyes met mine. I wouldn’t go as far as to say it was pure happiness, but I felt oddly lighter, more energized.
“Hey, Connor,” she said, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“I’m not usually one to state the obvious,” I said, “but I think an astronaut cat might have climbed into your—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, shaking her head with a little smirk. “It is ludicrous that I am wearing this and I cannot quite believe it myself.”
“This is not by choice?” I asked.
“Do I look like somebody who would choose this getup? Actually, don’t answer that because if I do, well…that will just be too depressing for words.”
“I ordered you a mocha,” I said. “But if you want something else I can—”
“How did you know I like a mocha?” she asked.
“You mentioned it at the dive bar when you were talking about living with your dad,” I said, the back of my neck growing warm. I sounded like I was obsessed with her. God, was I being too overbearing?
“No, a mocha sounds great,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’m over there,” I said, gesturing toward the table.
I followed her over, wanting to laugh so badly as that cat freaked out in the little window.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked as the backpack jerked around on her shoulders.
“Yes, he just has a high stress level,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m dropping him off for an appointment as soon as I’m done here and then he’s not my problem anymore.”
“An appointment? He needs shots or something?”
“I wish it was that simple,” she said, sitting down. “Although, you’ve met my father, so you might not find it as strange as someone else might.”
“Oh, so this is a Tony thing,” I said.
“Such a Tony thing. I got this cat the summer before I went to college, and my dorms wouldn’t let me bring him, so my dad was stuck with him.
Which he claimed to hate, right? But a month later, Fluffy was renamed Dale Earnhardt Junior and no longer mine.
He and my father have the strangest connection known to man.
They’re like soulmates, I swear to God.”
“Dale Earnhardt Junior?”
“My dad loves NASCAR and apparently the cat did something that reminded him of restrictor plate racing so…” She trailed off like that explained everything.
“Oh, don’t stop now,” I said. “I need to know more about your dad’s connection to the cat.”
“He treats the cat so much better than he treated me and my brothers,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief but smiling at the same time. “For example, he thinks Dale has anxiety, so Dale has a standing appointment once a month with a cat chiropractor.”
“A cat—”
“—chiropractor, yes, you heard me right,” she said. “According to my father, when Dale is stressed, his neck gets tight and he really needs an adjustment. Apparently, it’s like all the tension just drains out of him.”
“No shit,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, no shit,” she said, nodding. “It is absurd and I have lectured my father no less than three hundred times about what a waste of money it is to pay somebody to chiropract on a cat, but he does not listen. He points out every ridiculous thing he spent money on that I wanted as a child, and he’s convinced this is a much more intelligent way to spend his cash. ”
“You know,” I said, “he really missed an opportunity with the name of that cat.”
“What?”
“He should’ve gone with Dale Purrnhardt Junior,” I said. “Get it?”
“My father would probably shoot you in the face for saying that,” she said with a laugh. “I know without a doubt that he would hate that pun.”
“I still say it’s a missed opportunity, but I suppose I’ll let it lie.”
“It’s best that you do,” she said. “So thank you so much for bringing my AirPods, by the way.”
“Sure,” I said, sliding them across the table toward her. “My phone kept telling me for a couple days that I was being followed around by something and it wasn’t until I dropped a straw wrapper that I found them under my seat.”
“I’m just happy none of my co-workers have to die today,” she said.
The cat jerked hard at that moment, making Duffy’s entire upper body move.
“That has got to be uncomfortable,” I said. “Dale is kicking your ass.”
“He definitely is, but I know once I take him out I’ll never get him back in. I love the guy, but he only listens to my dad.”
“Do you want help?” I asked. “I’m usually pretty good with animals. I can carry him. How far is the chiropractor?”
A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows in confusion. “It’s only a few blocks away, but you don’t have to,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t mind, I don’t have anything going on for another hour. It’s a nice morning to hold a cat.”
Her uncertain look grew into a wide smile that I felt in my chest.
God, I like her way too fucking much.
“That would be great,” she said. “Although I literally don’t know what Dale will do when we take him out.”
“I think I can handle the cat. I won’t let go of him,” I said.
She glanced down at my hands and I laughed in disbelief. “Are you seriously still doubting me because of the dropped pass against the Raiders? Are you never going to let me live that down?”
She let out a giggle. “I wasn’t doubting you, I was actually looking at the size of your hands and thinking there was a very good chance that you won’t drop the cat because the cat-to-hand ratio is definitely in your favor.”
Before I could comment, she added, “Although, so is the ball-to-hand ratio, so I guess one can never tell.”
“You are always busting my ass,” I said.
“I just speak the truth,” she said with a smirk and a shrug.
“Turn around and let me take the cat out of the bag, asshole.”
“Okay, but be prepared for him to run off,” she said. “Have those butterfingers at the ready.”
I cautiously unzipped the backpack and reached my hands in, letting Dale sniff me and rub his face against my hand. I then took him out of the carrier without a problem, giving Duffy a look as the little guy immediately settled against me like we were old friends.
He is so fucking cute, holy shit. Dale was fluffy as hell, just a little gray puff.
“I think my butterfingers have it under control,” I said lightly.
“He’s such a traitor,” she said with an eye roll.
“He lets me take care of him every day and spends all his time in my room, but the second my dad or my brothers—and now you—are around, he’s like ‘Later, girlfriend,’ and treats you like one of his bros.
You’re a dick, Dale,” she said, scratching his head.
“Don’t insult my bro.”
“You’re a dick, too,” she said, sticking her tongue out at me as she stood. “Well, come on, then—let’s get him to his appointment.”
I don’t think she even realized it when she stepped closer to me to pet the cat. It was a little jarring, to be honest, how natural it was with her. She walked beside me, petting the cat curled against my chest, and something about the moment kind of tripped me up.
I cleared my throat and powered through it, because what the fuck was with this girl? She made me feel so out of sorts, like I couldn’t function properly.
And I saw the moment she realized, too.
She glanced up at me, almost guiltily, and she dropped her hand away from the cat. I wished I could read her mind.
“So,” she said, clearing her throat as we exited the coffee shop. “What does a Tuesday morning look like for a football player?”
She gestured for us to cross to the right, apparently in the direction of a certified cat chiropractor.
“Most weeks it’s our off day,” I said. “But today we’re having a quick meeting to go through some new installations.”
“I can’t imagine the stadium being my place of work. My whole life, walking into that place is the equivalent of a holiday or an amusement park. Well, until the whole Carl thing, that is.”
“I have to ask—did people seriously throw hot dogs at you? Literally?” I asked, remembering what she’d said on the show. “I cannot imagine hurling such an overpriced snack.”
“And so much beer,” she huffed, and smiled sardonically. “Coyotes fans are desperate for a good season, so your girl jinxing them was a very big deal. My dad’s best friends still give me a lot of grief.”
“You seem okay about it now, though,” I said, scratching Dale’s head as we strolled down the sidewalk. “Are you? You know, okay?”
She glanced at me with a small but genuine smile. “Yes, thanks for asking. I’m fine, but it’s because they’re finally getting over it,” she said. “Apparently being seen with the beloved tight end is all it takes.”
“There did seem to be a positive reaction to our date, didn’t there?”
She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “Suddenly I’m one of their own when they think I’m with you. My brother said he saw an article about us out on the town, and it included an old picture of my hockey team from when I was five.”
“Well, I’m sorry about that,” I said as we went around a woman letting her dog take a break. “About the whole public thing.”
“Don’t worry about it. As it turns out, I hate it a lot less when people aren’t being mean to me. I probably owe you an apology because our little outing seems to have helped my reputation.”
“It did, did it?” I said, smiling even though I probably shouldn’t.
“Oh yeah. People think we’re cute now. A few weeks ago I was ‘Football Karen,’ but now we’re just freaking adorable.”
Football Karen. People could be such assholes. I glanced over at her and said, “Imagine if we went out again. You might become the patron saint of Coyote football.”
“Ooh, that’s tempting,” she said with a grin. “My dad would love to share that honor with Father Gordy.”
“Y’know, I’m going to the Wild game tonight, if you want to come along,” I heard myself say.
I wasn’t one to beg or refuse to take no for an answer, but something in her tone made me want to try again.
“It can just be two people innocently catching a game—not a date at all—but it might not hurt for you to lean into your sudden likability.”
That wrinkle was back between her eyebrows. “You’d let me use you for clout?”
“For clout?” That was funny.
“You know what I mean,” she said, readjusting the stupid cat backpack on her shoulders as she walked. “I’d be using you and you’d be getting nothing.”
I thought of Bethany and Brian, and how Duffy being around me would only help me, my career, and the team. I felt like a total tool that she was considering my feelings on this.
“I’d be getting an entire night to convince you to reconsider a real second date with me,” I said. “So I’ll take the trade-off.”
“Are you serious right now?” she asked, eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure out if I was being honest or not. Oh, honey, I’m so fucking serious it’s insane. But then she blinked fast and abruptly added, “I mean, about the hockey game.”
“Definitely,” I said, suddenly stoked as hell because I saw it—she’d looked interested. “I’ve got season tickets and zero plans. All we have to do is stand near each other while watching the game and people will make their assumptions. Let’s be fucking adorable tonight, shall we?”
Her eyes roamed all over my face, clearly thinking through all the scenarios, and then she gave a quick little nod. “Okay. If you’re sure, let’s be adorable tonight.”