Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Tate
“What the fuck was that all about?” Sean says when I return to the table. I don’t bother sitting down again because I’m done with eating. My gut is too riled up and I’m angry that I let that woman—Chloe fucking Smith—get to me.
“She set up a studio interview with me at NESH. Saturday. Mandatory, according to Coach.”
Sean shrugs. “No big deal. What’s the scowl for? You’ve done a million interviews by now.” He’s right and I don’t even know what to say to him, how to explain that I feel like she’s out to get me, to somehow expose me, except I haven’t done anything worthy of being exposed.
“I’m not worried. I’m fucking annoyed.” I look around to see Hunter and Gabe heading our way as we make for the exit.
None of us will be getting any playing time this week, so our practice will be light, more like a tutorial for some of the rookies and walk-ons, many of whom will no longer be on the team in three weeks.
Hunter says, “What’s up with that reporter chick?”
“I don’t know. She’s crazy.” I swipe my hand through my hair. “Let’s get out of here.” What I really mean is that I don’t want to talk about it.
We walk through the exit into the tunnel to the stadium and Gabe says. “You ever notice how many hot babes they have in sports broadcasting these days?” He’s talking to no one in particular, but Sean picks up on it, of course.
“Every last one of them is hot, but I’d really love to hook up with Chloe Smith.”
“No hooking up with sports reporters,” I say, sounding like a schoolmaster or someone’s matron aunt.
They all laugh at me. “Don’t worry,” Hunter says. “She’s not interested in Sean. She has her eye on you, Fontanna.” Even Sean nods in agreement.
“Too bad for her,” I say. No sense in disagreeing with them since it’s as plain as day, except I know her interest isn’t in hooking up.
We reach the field and join our respective units.
I’m with the linebackers and I join them, quickly getting my head into football.
It’s easy because I love it. The game makes all the bullshit worthwhile.
Later that afternoon, practice starts to break up and I head for the sidelines for a drink, taking my helmet off because we’re finally done for the day.
My back is happy not to do one more search and destroy drill, let alone a run and rush drill.
I can’t afford to look like an old lady out here.
Working hard at practice is important to Coach and therefore important to contract negotiations.
Hunter and Gabe join me at the Gatorade bucket and we all drink, sweat pouring from our faces.
The water boys and girls come over and I let them squirt water at me, ducking to let the stream hit my head instead of my mouth.
Sean Patrick trots off the field, helmet in hand, and even he looks drenched and dirty.
He grunts and takes the bottle of water from one of the girls with a friendly smile.
An innocent smile for him. The girl darts off anyway.
Shaking my head I slap him on the back. “Even the water girl knows your reputation.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Fontanna. You’re no better.”
Gabe laughs and I don’t bother arguing because they’re right. Lately I’ve had nothing but a string of single dates. Not the same as one-night stands, but it feels close enough when I can’t remember the women’s names a week later, when it’s on to the next one.
“The difference between me and you is that I’m trying to find someone. You’re happy to never repeat a night with the same girl. I want to find someone special enough to spend more time with.”
“It’s tough. Especially when you’re looking for it,” Hunter says. I’m about to agree when Cat, Hunter’s new bride and the team’s PR assistant director comes over. She’s wearing a blissful smile and a ladylike sundress, looking like life really is a bowl of cherries.
“Hi guys. Practice over or are you going back out there for more punishment?”
“Not tonight,” Hunter says, attempting to take her in a hug. But she squirms away, laughing.
“No touching until you’ve showered, honey. You’re not that irresistible.” She looks around at us watching the exchange and I know I look amused and maybe wistful. Because I am.
“You all suddenly got quiet—don’t let me interrupt. What’s so tough when you’re looking for it?” Damn.
“You caught that, did you?” Hunter says. “We were just talking about women and Tate’s love life.”
“Or lack thereof,” Sean puts in.
“It’s true,” I say. “Can’t seem to find someone I click with. Haven’t had a second date in months.”
“Since you dated my fiancée,” Gabe says, his devilish grin belying his very real territorial jealousy.
“You’re the one who fixed me up with Mia—”
“Let’s not argue about that debacle again,” Cat says. “Clearly Gabe is a total fail at matchmaking.”
We all laugh at this and I don’t pretend to myself that I’m not envious of Gabe, but it’s because of what he’s found with Mia, not of Mia herself.
She’s everything I’m looking for, except not quite.
Doesn’t have that explosive spark I need.
An inappropriate image of Chloe pops to mind before I dismiss it with a derisive admonishment.
Note to self—don’t waste a thought on the likes of Chloe Smith who, even if she were not a reporter, would most definitely not be my type.
She’s too wild and bold and if she weren’t a reporter, she’d be something else totally unconventional—maybe a circus performer or something and then I make the mistake of picturing her—
“On the other hand,” Cat says, poking a finger into my chest to get my attention. “I am the best at matchmaking. Used to do it all the time in college and I have a fabulous record of success.”
“Is that right? What’s your winning percentage?”
“It doesn’t exactly work like that—”
“Of course not,” Hunter says, laughing. “How does it work?” He’s teasing her but I can tell she’s serious and I’m betting on her in any conflict between the two of them.
Hunter is notoriously pussy-whipped, though no one would dream of saying this to his face because he’s also notoriously tough and would think nothing of whipping each and every one of our asses.
I’d be the only one in this group who’d have a shot at putting up a fight, but it would be touch and go.
He comes from a far tougher place than I do. It’s what drives him.
Me? I have the guilt demon driving me, on top of my sheer love of the game.
Gabe? He’s all about being in love with the game.
I don’t even know how Mia puts up with him, but she does.
As for Sean Patrick, he’s still young and excited and has something to prove for reasons I don’t know about.
Maybe he doesn’t either. But the important thing is that he’s highly motivated. We all are.
Cat eyes him and when Gabe and Sean stop snickering, she says very reasonably, “Almost every one of my customers was extremely satisfied. Eventually.”
“To this day? Did they all get married and live happily ever after?” I’m joking, but I’m curious too because she seems to be truly proud of herself.
“Not exactly. Too soon to tell for most of them, but one of the couples got married and another couple is living together.”
“What about the couple that wasn’t satisfied?” Gabe says, teasing.
“Truthfully, I don’t know what happened there because neither of them is talking to me.” She laughs. “But seriously, I think I didn’t know them well enough to do a good job and I’ve learned a lot from the experience.”
She turns to me with a speculative look. “So, Tate, you’re looking for someone special?”
Raising my hands, I say, “Yes, but I can handle the job—”
“Let me help you. I bet I can find someone for you. Let me play matchmaker.”
“No way in hell,” I say automatically. My upbringing is too conventional, too vanilla to consider this seriously. Saying no to anything unusual is my kneejerk reaction. Though, in truth, I’m trying to work on resolving that, to expand my horizons.
“Why not?” Hunter says. “I’ll put money on my wife.”
“Hell, I’ll pay money just to see it happen,” Gabe laughs. “I want to be there for the fix-up.”
Sean perks up. “I’ll take that bet, Hunter. A hundred bucks says she fixes him up and it doesn’t work, ’cause I don’t think he’s ready to settle down. He’s too good a wingman for that.”
“You’re on,” Hunter says.
“Guys, you’re forgetting something,” I say. “I haven’t agreed to this matchmaking scheme.”
Cat turns her eyes on me then and the others all look at me expectantly.
“I promise it’ll be painless, Tate. What do you really have to lose?” She pauses and they’re all waiting, but she’s right. I haven’t been making any progress the conventional way. Besides, matchmaking is a lot like a blind date setup, isn’t it? And that’s not so crazy, really.
“Okay. I’ll agree to one blind date. We’ll see how you do with that.”
She gives me a big smile and the others high five each other.
“You won’t regret it. I’m excited about the challenge.” She has a scary gleam in her eye. “I’ll be in touch with the details. I’ll arrange a dinner party.”
“Sounds good,” I say. It is good. I need this.
A decent woman—who’s also gorgeous and smart whether I deserve it or not—to take my mind off a certain girl reporter.
I’m not looking for love and roses at this stage, but I’m no player with women and I’m not interested in being a monk either.
Someday I’ll be looking for serious, but not now.
First things first. I need to seal the deal on my new contract.
Then it’s the promised land, the security I crave because I can’t escape my Midwestern upbringing, the conventional need of a regular guy to have a regular life.
It’s who I am underneath the football player, before I was ever a pro in the NFL.
Someday I’ll go looking for a woman who, like me, will appreciate a regular life, to share mine with me. But that’s not until football is over.