Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Hunter
In a million years I wouldn’t have predicted that I’d perform so well my first game in the new system.
While I managed to keep an obnoxious grin from my face, several of the guys gave me grudging nods of respect.
A far cry from the on-field celebration, but now that we were back in the locker room, I was no longer Hunter the elite tight end, I was back to Hunter the thug.
Half stripped down, I saw the media come into the room and swore under my breath.
They went for Wyatt first. Of course. He had his own corner where he held court, sitting back in a lounge chair, team jersey still in place.
The guy must take hours to get out of the locker room after a game.
I couldn’t wait to hit the shower and figured this would be a good time before anyone from the press got to me.
Where was Cat when I needed her? She’d stop anyone from talking to me. But I knew there was no way Coach would ever let her in this room. Dressed in only a towel, I’d almost made it to the shower when Coach pulled me aside.
“I’d like a word with you.” I followed him to the training room and he gestured for Wyatt to follow, cutting short his mini press conference.
We went inside and Coach kicked the trainer out of the room then closed the door behind him. That ought to raise some media eyebrows.
“What the f—ck was that long-bomb touchdown pass about, Wyatt? I don’t remember that play being called.” Coach glared back and forth between the two of us.
“No sir. Quintanna and I’ve been doing extra reps after practice. He runs this route and no one expects it.”
“You’re damn right no one expects it. What about the rest of the team?
What about the play I called? Last I knew you were not elevated from knuckle-dragging newb to play caller.
You’re an arrogant SOB and it’s going to get you into trouble if you keep it up.
You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll be sitting on the bench. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t think I’m bluffing.” Coach turned to me and I prepared myself for a scene out of Patton. He’d have made a sick Army commander.
“And what the hell were you thinking? You knew this play wasn’t in our approved playbook for you.
This is your first goddamn game with the team.
You have no standing whatsoever and you pull this?
You should be on best behavior—and if this is best behavior then your days will be numbered.
Unlike Wyatt, you don’t get a second chance. You’re benched. Until further notice.”
He put up a hand in case I was stupid enough to speak up, which I wasn’t, then turned away. Before he left he smirked and said, “See you at dinner.”
When he was gone, I stood in my towel so hot and angry at myself, at Wyatt, at the world that I thought of sitting in a tub of ice before going back out. It took me a minute to meet Wyatt’s eyes. He was staring at me.
“I’m sorry.” He moved to the door after a few beats of my ungracious silence.
“Look, I appreciate that you didn’t call me out, let Coach know it was all my idea, that you’d questioned me in the huddle and I insisted it was the call.
I should have told Coach myself, but he wasn’t in a listening mood.
But I will let him know. I promise you won’t be benched for long. ”
I still kept clammed up, kept my fists at my side though I wanted to punch him out.
“So why didn’t you say anything?” he prompted, getting brave.
“Like you said, Coach wasn’t in a listening mood.”
“That’s not the reason and you know it.”
“Because I don’t call people out. That what you want to hear?
But mostly I figured the team would be fucked if you were benched.
Me? You all have been getting along without my ass fine, so benching me is no big deal.
” I paused and noticed for the first time Wyatt lost the arrogant patina and looked human, not so cool and in charge of the universe.
“I think that’s what the coach thought too. ”
Wyatt snorted. Then he leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. Not a friendly stance, more a protective one, as if he felt vulnerable.
“Looks like I owe you. Big time. This is not something I’m going to forget anytime soon. Ever.”
“You don’t owe me. You’ve been solid since I got here. Gave me the benefit of the doubt.”
“What do we tell the press?” he asked, back to his king-of-the-world self, presuming the press would want to know everything because it was him. The thing was, it was true. The press followed him like puppies after a mailman carrying raw steak.
“We tell them Coach wanted to refine some points on the new play and congratulate us on our execution and touchdown.”
He laughed. “I like it. The beauty is, Coach will never contradict it. I’ll be the one to handle the questions. You stay quiet. Easy job for you since it’s your specialty.”
I nodded. No way in hell I’d be making any comments to the press. I looked around. “Is there a shower in here somewhere?”
“Yeah, back there.” Wyatt pointed and laughed. “Making yourself scarce? I don’t blame you. But then there’s always dinner to look forward to.” He laughed as he walked out into the lion’s den of media.
In the moment of crisis, I’d forgotten about the dinner—and Coach’s sadistic reminder.
Goddamn Cat. What had she gotten me into?
Knowing full well it was unfair, I found it surprisingly easy to lay full blame on Cat for the upcoming dinner, which promised to be the most uncomfortable meal of my life. It was never going to be a fun night out, but now? It would be pure hell.
I was not good at pretense, not good at polite chitchat, especially not with strangers. Who all knew each other. They’d either treat me like a special pet and fawn all over me or, the more likely scenario given Coach’s mood, talk around me as if I didn’t exist.
Heading for the shower, I swore to myself it would be a good long one and I’d make Cat wait until the very last second. She’d said to be ready by six. I’d see her at 6:05.
One more asshole move to help her get past her stupid infatuation.
Who was going to help me get past mine?
Although I wasn’t the last one out of the locker room, it was close.
The postgame press conference was over and Coach was gone.
I’d heard that some of the press were calling for me to take the podium.
Coach’s response was to ignore them. Fine by me.
I stepped out of the locker room into the tunnel.
There were still a few people milling around, and none of them looked like press.
Zooming in on Cat, I headed in her direction.
She didn’t make a move. Wearing an expression of semidistress, she was sin in a suit.
It was tailored to her curves and the penned-up look only emphasized her sensuality.
Her hair was up. The formal do didn’t make her look less tempting, exposing the long delicious column of her neck. My cock sat up and took notice.
F—cking fantabulous. The scowl on my face hadn’t been purposeful, but it worked as I approached her. Her demeanor changed from worried to flip in an instant.
“You look as happy as Coach. In fact, you could be twins. Considering you won the game, I’m going to guess the issue is more personal.” She took my arm without invitation and we went toward the exit to the parking lot.
“Thank you so much, Cat. Yes, it was a great game.”
She laughed and everything about her softened into the true Cat, the one who didn’t try so hard, the innocent who cared too much.
“You’re right. Congratulations on the touchdown. That was the best play of the game. What a catch—and the run after—”
“Okay.” I put a hand up to stop her. I hadn’t meant to have her gush over me. Or had I? I was supposed to work on keeping her at arm’s distance or further, to make her hate me.
“You’ll need to tell me what happened with Coach. I know it’s something so don’t even try to lie.”
We got to her car and though I reflexively wanted to open her door for her, I didn’t. I wanted to offer to drive, but I didn’t. We had a business relationship and she was perfectly competent, so I wasn’t exactly being an asshole. I’d need to try harder.
Without responding, I got in the passenger side of her Mustang.
It was almost dark out, making the interior of the car even more intimate than it was before.
Now I was cocooned with Cat. What the hell should I tell her?
Figuring there was no downside to telling her the truth because she knew her father and because she wasn’t about to spill it to the press, I told her everything.
I trusted Cat. In my telling, I emphasized the point about her Mr. Perfect Wyatt letting me take the fall.
“I hate it, but you were right. The team can do without you for a game better than it could do without Wyatt.” She started the car and maneuvered it to the designated exit, the one for VIPs where there was no line of cars, no traffic, taking us onto a service road in East Boston.
Her comment rankled. She had been my unmitigated champion up until now and I’d expected outrage on my behalf from her.
“You don’t care that it’s unfair?” I said. Stupidly.
She smiled. “It would be if Coach actually benched you, but I’m fairly certain that won’t happen.”
“You are not—”
“Don’t worry. I have ways of influencing Dad with enough subtlety that he’ll think it was his own idea. Besides, he’s a practical and sensible man at heart.”
“That where you get it?”
“Me? You’re all wrong. I’m a complete romantic at heart.”
I snorted. I’d seen her gloss over a lot of shit to reach practical sensible conclusions and courses of action. All of them concerning me. Like glossing over the phone sex and continuing to work with me as if nothing ever happened. Not something a complete romantic at heart would do.
“More like a romantic streak at best,” I said mostly to rankle her. It was dangerous to give in to banter with her, but I rationalized that staying clammed up hadn’t worked. Maybe if I made enough asshole comments I’d manage to truly offend her.
Probably not. She was the master at glossing over in favor of the practical to get results. She refused to be offended on principle.
“What are you trying to do?” I asked.
Taking her eyes from the road for a second, she gave me a startled look. Bingo. I loved that look, loved disconcerting her. Would love to disconcert her right out of her panties—
“Get us to dinner,” she said, missing only a beat.
“With me. What are you trying to do with me?”
Heaving a sigh as if I were a brick-headed boy, she said, “You know I’m trying to redeem your reputation, to—”
“Yeah, I get it. To make me whole. But why, Cat? Why are you doing it? What’s in it for you?”
“It’s my—”
“And don’t say it’s your job because I know your job is supposed to be social media and press releases. You asked to be my handler, didn’t you?” From the look on her face, I knew I’d guessed right. I smiled to myself, thanking the gods for her complete lack of poker-face skill.
“I like a challenge,” she said, finally succeeding at a neutral expression when I least wanted to see it, when I most wanted to read her mind. I knew there was more to it. I was also coming to the conclusion that it was about more than infatuation, or that addictive chemistry between us.
I’d insulted her enough to shake her from anything as shallow as that. Now she clammed up and it didn’t take long for her to get us to Grill 23 in Boston’s Back Bay. It was snootier than I’d hoped. We pulled up for valet parking and the staring and pointing began.
When the ma?tre d’ showed us to a table on the main floor, I was surprised. It was a bold move even if the idea was to get us noticed. We were close to the windows and, with so many eyes flashing in our direction, I felt like an animal in a zoo.