Chapter 18
Beckett
“Thanks for the ride,” Finley says, her long legs reaching the ground as she slips out of my pickup truck and onto the mostly empty parking lot outside the practice football field for the Colorado Stallions.
“We were headed to the same place. It made sense. Plus, that’s what’s best for the environment.”
“The only reason we’d bring Larsen with us.” A pretty smile pulling across her face as she points her thumb toward the backseat.
“Yeah, thanks for the ride, Dad,” Larsen agrees as he and Li both climb out of the back.
Right. I’m just a really big fan of the environment.
I mean, I am. But also, after I almost kissed my fucking coach the other day, it seems prudent to have a chaperone.
And nothing kills the mood quite like Larsen yapping for twenty minutes about how many bananas are too many for one smoothie as we drove through rush-hour traffic.
Which is why I panic-invited him and Li after I offered Finley a ride last night during our standard dinner-and-trivia-practice session.
Li holds back, waiting for me to head in. “You okay?”
Li is a genuinely good guy and one of the best players I’ve ever been paired with. He also has the patience of a saint, which explains how he can spend as much time as he does with Larsen. That said, he’s made his opinions on me and Coach Blake very clear.
Not that I disagree—I’m just doing a poor job of staying away.
“I’m ready for this competition to be done. We’ve got actual games to worry about. We shouldn’t be wasting our time with this.”
“I thought you were enjoying it.”
“Enjoying something and it being a good idea are two very different things,” I reply. “In fact, I’ve found I rarely enjoy the things that are best for me. Take sprints and ice baths, for example.”
“Yeah,” Li agrees, though his voice is low. “Sometimes, I just wish there was a way to get what I want without it being a bad decision.”
“Don’t we all.”
Sabrina welcomes us as we head into the media room of the football team’s practice facility, and a few minutes later, she calls the whole group together.
Much like last time, she says a few words before handing it over to Mr. Peterson.
This time, though, the owners of the Stallions and the Mountaineers are with him, welcoming fans from three of Colorado’s professional teams.
“That’s Charlotte’s dad,” Finley whispers, sliding up next to me as the owner of the Stallions thanks his players and the fans for a great season.
“No shit?” I ask. “I didn’t realize she was a Langford.”
“Yeah. She and her twin brother have spent their entire lives in the spotlight.”
Sabrina takes over again, explaining the Mile-High Matchup event, where our existing teams are paired with two other pro athletes to compete in an obstacle course relay, a reaction drill, Colorado trivia, and a coordination task.
After announcing the teams, she directs us to get to know one another while we put on the provided team jerseys.
Finley and I walk toward the black mesh jerseys, each grabbing one.
“Beckett Kane, how the hell are you?” Callan Devine, one of the top quarterbacks in pro football, asks as he joins Finley and me.
“Good. I can’t believe we’re on the same team. What’s it been, six years?” I ask, shaking his hand and pulling him in for a hug.
“Seven,” he answers with a smile. “If you can believe that.”
“Damn, we’re getting old,” I reply.
Callan and I were in Florida at the same time for a few years, and as top players in our respective sports, we ran in the same circles. It’ll be fun to be back in the same state as him.
“Hey,” the man I assume is our fourth says. “I’m Jameson.”
He’s almost my height, and he’s here, so he’s clearly an athlete in Colorado, but I don’t recognize him.
“Good to see you again.” Callan gives him a handshake and a hug as well. “I saw you won your tournament last weekend in California, congrats.”
Noticing Finley is passively watching this exchange, I nudge her forward. “I’m sure you both know Coach Finley Blake.”
“Oh, yes, I’m just so famous.” Finley shoots me a smirk as she shakes their hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“I think my wife might’ve bribed your media person to put me on your team,” Jameson confesses. “She’s a huge fan after that dance routine you put on.”
“You’ll have to bring her to a game someday. I love meeting fans.” Finley is clearly in full professional mode. She tilts her head, taking him in, and I have to shove the feelings welling inside me down. I will not be jealous of a married man because Finley is looking at him.
“You’re one of the professional golfers here, right?” Finley asks.
“That’s me. JT Johnson”—he points to a tall blond man slapping hands with Li and Larsen—“is the other golfer they called in. Oh, God. I think they’re practicing a team cheer.”
“No team cheer,” I say, and Jameson agrees.
“Come on, Coach.” Callan nudges Finley. “You and I can have our own secret handshake.”
She lets out a short laugh. “I’m on Team Grump, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, come on. A chest bump? Knuckles. A quick elbow tap?”
She laughs again, and fuck. He’s flirting with her.
Callan is decidedly not married. But the two of them are, well, they’d be pretty fucking perfect.
There’s nothing against dating players from entirely different sports, and no one understands the craziness of a professional sports schedule better than someone who’s in it.
Though, maybe that would be the worst pairing.
Sabrina tells us all to make our way outside for the first event, and I follow slightly behind, watching every interaction between Finley and Callan, convincing myself that navigating two professional schedules would actually be terrible and they’d break up within days.
I’m feeling much better by the time we reach the field, only to be pulled up short as I almost run into the group in front of me.
“Wha—” I start, only to realize what has everyone’s attention. There is a giant-ass inflatable snow mountain in front of us, taking up almost half of the field. Where did they even find one that big? And, wait, is that—
“It’s a fucking Wipe-Out course,” Jameson groans next to me, as Larsen starts doing a dance.
“Yes! I’ve always wanted to try this game! Sabrina, you sweet angel. Making all my dreams come true today!” Larsen says, bouncing on his toes.
Sabrina whistles, catching our attention, and as a group, we make our way to the base of the structure.
Once we’re all there, Sabrina explains the game. “It’s not hard, folks. It’s a relay. One person starts. The next competitor can’t go until the one before them has successfully made it to the other end, run back, and hit their teammate’s hand. You have five minutes to strategize.”
As soon as we’re in our huddle, Finley takes control.
She walks us through the plan, intentionally putting herself and Jameson first and second, so Callan and I can make up time if we need to.
It’s exactly how she is in practice. She’s six steps ahead, talking us through the obstacles we can see and what might be the best way to approach them.
“Definitely pay attention to everyone else as they go. Likely, the people who play the same sport as you will be the most useful because your specific strength will get you past each obstacle. Going back will always take longer than waiting a few more seconds until you’ve decided the best way to get through one of the obstacles. ”
We all nod. We know how to take direction in a competitive environment.
“If we need to tell each other something as we’re going through, I’ll yell. My voice will be the most distinct in the crowd. While I’m going through—”
“I’ll do it,” I announce. “You’ll know my voice best.”
They all look at me, and Finley quirks her eyebrow.
“Because you met me before today,” I say. This has nothing to do with anything other than winning.
“Sounds good to me,” Finley replies, and there’s a small piece of me that wonders if maybe it does mean something more. The sound of her voice is imprinted on my soul, not from her yelling at me while I’m out on the ice, but from the soft way we’ve connected over the last few weeks.
We finalize our game plan, and with a bob of her head, Finley heads to the starting line.
It doesn’t matter that we’ll be scaling an inflatable mountain, bouncing across fake snow boulders, or climbing a rope ladder to the top of a second peak before coming back down on a large slide—everyone on that field is zoned the fuck in.
The Colorado Stallions’ mascot pretend fights with the Yeti, and finally, Sabrina lets out a loud whistle to start the race.
I can’t take my eyes off Finley. Every movement she makes is efficient. She’s not the fastest out there; the taller men are able to reach the higher handholds, but she’s strong. And she’s beating Everly and Dr. Pearce.
Larsen is going first, too, and he’s taunting Finley when he reaches the top before her. With one last effort, she pulls herself up next to him, not hesitating before pushing him to the bottom of the mountain.
Fuck, she’s amazing.
Without a backward glance at Larsen, who is aggressively climbing up again, Finley stares at the four white balls in front of her before quickly leaping onto them, one foot barely touching each as she passes.
Two rows down, Rob does the same after watching her.
Jameson, Callan, and I discuss our strategy as she climbs the rope at the end. She dives headfirst down the slide and sprints to the end, giving Jameson’s hand a hard slap as she reaches him.
“Hell, yes, Coach Blake,” Callan says, picking her up and giving her a hug while spinning her around. “The kid’s face when you pushed him off was epic.”