Chapter 12
TWELVE
PARKER
I kissed my performance coach.
Let’s just start there. Because that sentence has been running laps in my brain like it’s trying to break a world record of the most incredibly reckless things to do.
The woman who hates me and the woman I despise, at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I would be a liar if I said I still feel the same way.
I’m interested, infatuated and one hundred percent invested in her.
I’m standing on the green turf holding a football, staring at absolutely nothing, replaying the moment our lips touched for the millionth time.
The way her face fit perfectly in my hand.
The way she didn’t pull away.
The way she leaned into the kiss.
The faint stickiness of worn-off lip gloss.
If I’m being honest, the fact she kissed me back is the most dangerous part.
Because if Annika had shoved me away, slapped me, or—her hallmark move—launched into a lecture about professional ethics, my brain could have compartmentalized the whole thing as a bad decision while I was emotionally compromised.
Instead, she kissed me like she meant it.
And now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About her.
Her mouth.
Her hands gripping my shirt.
The little mewl she let out when I—
“Parker!” Greyson’s voice snaps across the field like a slingshot.
I blink, unaware the ball is coming. It smacks into my chest. Hard, bouncing onto the field.
Hooking his fingers into the V-neck of his jersey, Greyson stares at me, odds are he’s considering begging Sutton to trade me for nothing to a Canadian curling team.
“You good?” he calls out.
“Yeah.” But everyone knows I’m not, especially Greyson. He’s introspective. A listener. We’re somewhat alike except before he met Sutton, when he was the playboy of the league.
He jogs closer, shaking his head. “You sure?”
I nod and pick up the ball and flip it to him.
“You look like a guy who left his brain somewhere else.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans in, glancing left then right, and lowers his voice. “Not to be nosy, but have you gotten laid lately? A little lovin’ cures most ailments,” he jokes or maybe he’s not.
“You’re unbelievable. How does Sutton live with you?”
He slaps my back, harder than necessary, a total big brother move. “Because we give each other what we need, mentally and physically,” he says, raising his brows up and down.
I look down at the grass, thinking about how I want what he has.
“Parker, you’ve been staring at the grass for ten seconds. You need to get out of your head.”
“I wonder how many blades of grass are on this field?”
“That’s a Witt question. I’m sure he knows,” Greyson says as he backs up, spinning the oblong ball in his hands. “Ready this time?”
“Yep.”
“Because your hands work and your brain works. Do you remember?”
“I remember.”
“Great, let’s prove it. Go route.”
He drops back and I take off down the sideline. I run the route, turn as the ball spirals toward me and for a split second I hear Annika’s voice in my head. Inhale.
What happens next isn’t a surprise but it should be. A wide receiver in the professional ranks should be able to catch the ball when his brother is throwing it to him. We’re basically playing catch. No defenders. No crowd. Not full speed.
I swear under my breath.
Greyson groans, “Bro, come on.”
“My bad. I’ve got this one,” I yell but I’m not sure if I do.
He tosses another perfect ball. Same result.
“Fuck.”
Greyson’s shoulders fall as he makes his way back to me. He claps my shoulder. “Hey. You’re thinking too much. Maybe this performance coach is making your yips worse.”
I drag my hand through my hair. “I had this problem before her. She’s helping.” My tone is more defensive than it should be.
Greyson shakes his head like he doesn’t buy it. He looks toward the sideline. “Well, that explains almost everything.”
“What?”
“You must be her favorite client.” He gestures with his head to the bleachers.
I follow his gaze and my gut takes a punch I didn’t see coming. Annika is sitting in the stands with her glasses on. Just watching. Arms folded.
Suddenly, the entire practice field feels ten degrees hotter.
“No wonder you can’t catch. She’s…”
“Shut up.”
“It’s understandable that your mind is in a different place.”
“It’s not.”
He raises his hands, one with the football and says, “It is and I think maybe she’s exactly what you need.”
My brother is retiring after this year, and I want to win the big game with him. No trio of brothers have ever done it—head coach, quarterback and wide receiver. I want to be mentioned in the same breath as them. Easier said than done.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
Matt blows his whistle and the offense huddles up around him, barking out drills and reminding us of the game plan for this week’s opponent. When we break, Matt pulls me aside.
“What’s going on with the performance coach?”
Does he know that I crossed the line and kissed her?
“Nothing. I mean we’re trying to get to the root of the problem.”
“If you want to talk, come over tonight. Noelle and the kids want to see you.”
“Thanks, but I have plans tonight.” I don’t. But maybe I could make plans with the woman playing with my head in more ways than one.
We warm up again and get the blood flowing to our muscles, then we go through non-contact drills and then move on to offense and defense. It’s not full speed but just running routes and plays that we’re adding into the playbook for this week’s game.
An hour later, Greyson calls the play and if I’m remotely open, it’s coming to me. I inhale, say the cue word to interrupt my fear and zone in on the ball whipping my way. And it stays in my hands. Thank God.
Greyson claps three times, “Yes!”
I take a glimpse toward Annika and she hasn’t moved, but she’s looking my way and even though she’s wearing shades, I know I have her attention. And yes, I find myself wanting to perform for her.
Practice goes on for another hour and when it comes to an end, she’s no longer in the stands. I have no clue when she left. I’m halfway to the tunnel when I hear her voice.
“Parker.”
She’s standing under the overhang, shielding herself from the sun, arms folded over her waist. It’s professional Annika. Not the Annika I kissed last night.
But when I get closer, I see the tiny smile tugging at her mouth. A shiver runs up my spine from the smallest of gestures.
“You got in the groove for a bit, but then you quit using the cues,” she says with frown lines creeping up her face.
I shrug. “I might have forgotten.”
“That’s not the way to retrain your brain.”
“Yeah well. I had other things on my mind.” I have her on my mind. How she felt in my hands. I’m so screwed.
“You weren’t breathing.”
“Watching me that close, Doc?” I shoot her flirtatious smile. Maybe she’s been thinking about it too.
“I watch everything. It’s my job.”
I step into her space, looking down at her beautiful brown hair and bright blue eyes. “Is it also your job to show up at practice unannounced?”
She sighs, making me aware that last night was a mistake from her perspective.
“An appointment canceled, so I felt like I owed you since I canceled on you to go ice skating.”
“Hmm.”
“Was it luck you caught those three passes in a row?” she asks.
“Luck had nothing to do with it.”
“What did?”
I keep it simple. “You.”
We stand there in an empty stadium except for the ground crew working to make sure the field is ready. We’re going full contact tomorrow. The players and coaches are already through the tunnel.
The sun drops behind the stands, casting a warm glow around Annika, when I say, “We’re traveling this week.”
She nods, “I know.”
“It’s an away game.”
“I’m familiar with the term,” she half-laughs and the way she throws back her head with her mouth open and at ease.
Why are we both so nervous?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I ask, “You coming?”
She blinks and her eyes widen. “To the away game?”
“Yeah.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
I challenge her. “You showing up here on a Wednesday practice seems unnecessary, yet you did.”
“This is work.”
I lick my lips, looking at her mouth and realize she thinks I want her there because of the kiss and she’s fucking right but I can’t let her know that yet or she’ll run away like she’s running from something I haven’t had time to figure out.
“Coming to my game, helping me stay focused is work.”
“You want me there?”
“No.” I finger a tendril of her hair. “I need you there.”
She takes a glance at my finger on her hair. “Why?” she asks, her breath almost floating. There’s undercurrent sizzling between us and based on her reaction she feels it too.
“Because when you’re watching I have a better chance of remembering what to do.”
For a second she studies me. “I’ll consider it.”
“I’ll have Sutton call you and set it up. All expenses paid.”
“We’ll see.”
“You’ll be there.”
“Maybe.”
Studying her for a moment longer, an idea pops into my head. I need to see more of her smile so I offer her a challenge. “Kick off your heels.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to lighten things up. Relieve the stress from our jobs and have some fun.” I feel my dimples forming. “Follow me.”
I pick up a football left in the end zone and squeeze the leather in my hands. “I’ll throw it three times and if you catch all three times, you decide whether you come to my game but if you drop one, you have to come to coach me.”
“That’s not fair. I’ve never even played catch.”
I give her a look loaded with implication. “I figured as much.”
She juts her hip out. That beautiful curve covered by cream-colored pants. Finally, she agrees, “Okay, I’ll try to catch the ball if it reduces your anxiety. But I’m not agreeing to your terms.”
Electricity pricks at my skin, hiding a smile inside me. “I’ll take it. Go.” She runs ten yards and I throw it easy and she catches it.
She looks at the ball in her hands and yells, “I did it. I did it!”
“Don’t get cocky, Doc.”
Annika skips back to me, her dark brown hair shining against the sun. “Fistbump.” I stick out my fist and she taps it.
Maybe I had her all wrong. She has a fun side.
“Run and turn when you get to the thirty-yard-line. We’ll see if you can catch this one. Go.”
She’s fast and seems as competitive as me. I wait not knowing which way she’s going to turn and when she does I let the ball sail. Her feet move to the left and she gets under it and waits. It lands in her hands.
Jesus, I’m going to lose this bet, even if she didn’t agree to it.
She dances like she just won the championship. I wish I had my phone so I could film this and blackmail her for another kiss.
I shout, “Did you secretly play football too?”
Annika runs back with a cheesy grin on her face. “Nope, I just hate to lose.”
She pushes her hands against my chest like a teammate would after making a big catch for a first down. It’s so fucking cute and now I’m the one cheesing at how Annika can be carefree and captivating.
“All right, run to the fifty-yard line this time. Turn to the right. This is make or break. Do you need to rest? A drink of water?”
“I’m good.”
She sprints down the field in her dress pants and her ass is perfect.
I pump the ball twice against my hand and let it fly.
I watch it glide through the air. It’s a tight spiral but not a bullet and I’m secretly hoping she catches it just so I can see her do another dance.
Will she do the Super Bowl Shuffle or do the Dougie or make up something of her own?
Annika turns, jogging three steps as she concentrates on the ball. It hits her hands and bounces out but she dives and catches it before it hits the ground. If this were a real game, the refs would spend ten minutes reviewing the call but I’ll give it to her.
Her body rolls and she sticks the ball into the air. “Three for three,” she calls out as she stands up.
I run toward her and as soon as I get there, I pick her up and swing her around. Her jubilant giggle ignites something inside my chest. “Tell me how you did that if you’ve never caught a football before.”
With our chests pressed together and her arms around my neck, she says, “Because I trusted you to put it right where it goes.”
“Careful Doc—you’re making yourself my favorite target.”
Her grin fades into something else as she looks at my lips. The pull is huge, but this isn’t the place to kiss her again, where anyone in the Armadillo organization could see. I don’t want to ruin her reputation, so I set her down on her bare feet.
“Trust. You trust me. That’s good.” Real good. “All right, I need to get to the locker room.”
I watch her toes, painted red, squish into the turf as we walk back to the endzone and she picks up her heels.
“So are you coming to my away game?”
“I’m still deciding.”
I flash her a smile as I shake out my sweaty hair and jog through the tunnel with positive thoughts running through my mind.
And now, this away game feels like the most important game of the season.