Chapter Twenty-Three Cash
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cash
Ever since the second game I started after Patty’s injury, Saylor had been acting weird, like she was trying to put distance between us.
Yet every time I brought it up, she found a way to sidestep me.
The fact she thought I was buying her song and dance would have been laughable if not for the scary, bad feeling it gave me.
About a week after my first start, Taco and I were making dinner together after practice one night when he commented I must be one hell of a lay.
My first instinct was to deck him, but I let him keep talking.
According to my roommate who’d known her for the past three years, Saylor had never been one to date anyone for longer than a month or so.
The fact we’d started dating last spring and were still together six months later had to mean something.
Careful not to indulge his gossipy little heart, I’d said something noncommittal, but his words had given me permission to feel a bit cocky about where things with Saylor were headed.
Yet over the past month or so, she’d made excuses to avoid spending as much time with me as we’d been spending together before my promotion to starter.
When she mentioned the pro scouts who’d likely be attending Saturday’s game, the cogs in my memory had slowly clicked into place.
Early on, Saylor had worried her friends who were dating starters on the Wildcats would be giving up their own dreams to support their guys chasing pro careers.
At the time, she’d made it clear she wouldn’t be like her friends.
She had zero intention of subverting her goals to those of some guy.
She planned to follow her path and realize her dreams, which to her meant going it alone.
At the time I hadn’t thought much of it.
My NFL future had ended on an errant tackle during a conference game my sophomore year—or so I’d thought.
Having experienced a situation similar to Patty’s, I’d never wish injury on him—or any other player, for that matter.
While I’d wanted to contribute meaningfully to the team, I hadn’t wanted to be in the position of making that contribution because someone else was hurt.
But circumstances or fate or whatever never gave a rat’s ass about what I wanted.
I was now the starter for the Wildcats. Only a dumbass would pass up an opportunity like this to make his mark and draw the attention of pro scouts.
Plus, not playing my best would be a disservice to the team, to the coaches, and ultimately to Patterson because everyone’s sole goal was the National Championship.
It was my job to do everything in my power to help us achieve that goal.
Saylor’s recent pull-back from us told me she had all of that figured out too.
Apparently, what she couldn’t see was a place for her to chase her dreams and still be with me if the pros came calling.
I had no idea if the pros would come, but if they did, I wouldn’t be passing up a chance to play in the NFL.
Yet that didn’t have to mean we had to split up or that she had to give up her dream of working with touring bands and making music videos.
Though I didn’t have a clue how we’d work things out if I earned a shot at the pros, what I did know was that I was falling for her.
Hell, I was already all-in with her, and it didn’t feel one-sided either.
Both of us were smart people. Now I needed to convince her to play with me as we figured out together how to make our dreams compatible.
With the tip of my nose, I nudged Saylor’s hair behind her ear and whispered, “Wanna get out of here?”
The shiver that rippled over her had me tightening my arm around her shoulders. Raucous laughter, the clink of utensils on plates, and the thump of heavy mugs of beer landing on tabletops had made it necessary to press my lips against her skin as I asked the question.
After the bonfire, everyone had crowded into Stromboli’s.
It wouldn’t surprise me if a person walking by on the street could see the walls flexing at the throng of people crammed inside the pizzeria.
Being close with the guys who had NIL contracts with the place meant we had a booth to sit in, but that didn’t mean anyone could have an actual conversation over the excited roar of the throng of people inside.
Saylor gave me a nod, and I slid out of the booth, using my body to create enough space for her to be able to slide out too.
“See you guys tomorrow when we kick the shit out of the Golden Bears,” I shouted across the table to Bax and Taco.
Then I reached around Saylor to fist-bump Dally, who said, “Don’t stay out too late. We need you on top of your game tomorrow.”
“You know I will be,” I shouted back over the noise of the revelers around us.
Ushering Saylor in front of me, I led us over to the back door, which was the closest and easiest way out. Once we were in the back alley, I asked, “Did you drive, or did you ride with Piper?”
“I drove. I can follow you to your place.”
My brow shot up.
“All your roommates are in there.” She gestured over her shoulder at the bar.
“Babe, I’m not interested in a five-minute drill.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means. I’m not settling for a quickie followed by you racing out of the house before my roommates come home.” Slinging my arm around her shoulders, I started walking us toward the parking lot. “I’ll follow you to your place.”
“But what about what Dally said?” she asked as she dragged her feet.
“We meet at the facility at ten.” Giving her my signature grin—the one I’d figured out early on she couldn’t resist—I said, “Don’t worry. I won’t be late.”
Her dubious expression didn’t bode well for my plans, so I snuggled her to me and nuzzled kisses down the column of her neck.
When she relaxed into my touch, I kissed my way to her luscious lips to nibble and tease until she huffed out an impatient breath and threaded her fingers into my hair to hold me where she wanted me while she took over and kissed me stupid.
When she let me up for air, I grinned. “Lead the way, babe.”
Though the shake of her head conveyed exasperation, the secret grin curving her swollen mouth told me I’d made my point. A short drive later I parked my Jeep behind her SUV, grabbed my garment bag, and followed her into her apartment.
“What do you have there?” she asked as I trailed her into her place.
“My dress clothes for the game.”
“You’re spending the night?” Something like worry flashed in her eyes.
“That was my plan, yeah.”
She flipped on the lights and kicked her shoes off beside the door.
I kicked my shoes off and dropped my bag over the back of the couch.
Clamping my hands on her hips, I tugged her to me and smiled into her eyes.
“I’m saving the five-minute drill for in the shower in the morning.
Tonight I’m taking my time with you, playing all four quarters plus the rock-star halftime extravaganza.
” As I brushed a kiss along her jaw, I dropped my voice.
“That halftime show is all on you, in case you were wondering.”
While I kissed her, I backed her down the hallway toward her bedroom.
By the time we’d reached the bed, both of us were panting and scrambling for who was going to undress the other first. Then I spent half the night convincing her why the two of us together was the best idea ever and one she didn’t want to give up.
The next morning, I kept my word, giving her a quickie in the shower before I dressed for success and headed into the facility.
Somewhere in there after the second round, when she was in charge of the fun, I sensed her letting go of whatever had been bothering her for a while.
When she kissed me “good luck” before I left her place, I had the idea maybe we were back on the same page.
It wasn’t until I’d arrived at the facility that I let myself believe everything was going to be all right.
After spending the night filling my senses with Saylor’s floral-and-musk scent and my favorite fragrance of sex, stepping into the locker room was a slap in face.
“Jesus! It smells so bad in here I can hear it.” I laughed as I wandered past a couple of open lockers on the way to my own.
“Glad you made it. Early even. Impressive.” Dally smirked as he sidled up beside me in front of my locker.
“Told ya not to worry, Dad.” I loosened my tie and started unbuttoning my dress shirt.
Taco joined us on the other side of the bench. “You’re looking relaxed, buddy.”
“Good sex will do that for a guy,” Dalton piped up from somewhere past Taco’s shoulder.
Taco must have clocked the glare on my face because he said, “Like you’d know—how again? Last I saw, that Little Rho you were chasing all night outran you.”
“Fuck off,” Dalton grumbled.
Dally and I shared a grin as we dressed in our pads and jerseys. A few minutes later, the coaches filed into the locker room, and as a unit we all snapped on our game faces, fun and frolic set aside to take care of business.
“There is nothing in this world the Bears want more than to kick our ass today, take away our shot at another conference championship. On our home turf, no less.” Coach Ellis looked each player in the eye as he let that sink in. “Like hell are we going to let them have that,” he growled.
The captains, led by Mick Patterson leaning on his crutches, chanted, “Go! ’Cats! Go!”
“This is our house, and we always defend our house,” Ellis said. While the man rarely raised his voice—ever—something in his steely-eyed stare elevated the volume of his words, which the team matched on another round of, “Go! ’Cats! Go!”
“You’re prepared, you’re strong, and you’re Wildcats. So get your asses out there and play Wildcats football.”