Prologue
GAGE
Igrinned as the miniature Gage Ledger on my gaming system ran into the end zone.
“Fuck yeah!” I shouted, throwing my hands into the air like a ref calling a touchdown.
“Calm down, slugger. That only puts you six points ahead,” a dry female voice said into my ear.
I chuckled as I sat down and adjusted my headset. “First of all, nerd, slugger is baseball. And second, don’t be bitter because I drafted Gage before you could get your grubby little hands on him.”
AllAboutTheStats gasped overdramatically. “Luck of the coin toss, geek. If this were real life, Gage would definitely have signed with me.”
I held back a belly laugh at her statement. She had no idea she was playing a football video game with the real Gage Ledger, starting running back for the New York Nighthawks. However, even if I could tell her my real identity, I was having too much fun being just another gamer with this chick.
My boss, Lennox Madison, had decided that he wanted to create a new multiplayer football game. One that incorporated requests his team had been gathering from all the fan sites and social media sites for other popular NFL games.
AllAboutTheStats was one of the gamers who’d been offered a chance to beta the game before Lennox’s designers made the final changes.
Everyone on my team had been given a copy of the game as well because it helped to have feedback from actual players.
But we had to agree not to reveal our real identities.
“You just might be right, stats chick,” I teased.
After playing head-to-head with her in Beaumont Football—named after our head coach, who was a legend in the sport—for the past several weeks, I’d come to crave our time together.
She was a complete nerd, which I respected since underneath the big, tough football player, I was one too.
She was sharp as hell and really talented.
One of the major changes Lennox’s team made was allowing the gamers to play offense or defense.
I knew football as well as I knew myself, but to be fair, my instincts tended to lean toward offense—hazard of the job.
AllAboutTheStats had given me a run for my money…
if we’d been betting any…when playing defense.
Which was why, until a few minutes ago, we’d been tied.
“You know, SpreadOffense…”
She trailed off, but since we were both gearing up for the next play, I figured she’d just lost track of what she was saying.
Then she shocked the shit out of me when she quipped, “You might want to rethink your gaming handle.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s just that people might not take you too seriously.”
“What’s wrong with SpreadOffense?” I asked curiously. It had been my own little inside joke since I was a running back.
“It sounds kind of dirty.” Her voice was low and sultry. It always sounded that way, so it was to my utter disbelief that my body sat up and took notice. What the fuck?
I hadn’t met a woman in a very long time who had sparked enough interest in me to even ask them out for coffee. But after hearing this chick I’d never met say the word “dirty” in that sexy voice, all of a sudden, I was hard.
I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
“Sorry, was that inappropriate?” she blurted after the silence had turned awkward.
I tried again to reply, but this time, laughter erupted from my chest. This girl…she was fucking adorable, and a part of me wanted to ask if we could meet. But Lennox would probably bench me for the season if I broke the rules he’d laid down for testing out the game.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I lied when I finally caught my breath.
“But…you didn’t do that on purpose?”
“No,” I muttered, another small chuckle slipping out.
“But you’re a guy—I mean—you are a guy, right? Not some girl with a really masculine voice and the mouth of a trucker?”
I almost fell over laughing again, and when I heard her giggle across the line, I went rock hard, making my amusement fade.
“Most definitely a guy, nerd,” I responded as flippantly as possible.
Then I bit back a very filthy comment that popped into my head.
I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I also didn’t want her to pick up on my level of interest. Not when this relationship would never go beyond a virtual friendship.
“I guess my mind just wasn’t in the gutter the day I picked my handle.
” I grinned. “That sounded dirtier than I meant it.”
“Hmm,” she said.
I smirked and changed the subject. “Ready for me to keep kicking your ass?”
“You won’t get anywhere near my ass, geek.”
I had no idea what she looked like, but something told me that was a real fucking shame.
“Did you see the new update?” I asked, smiling as I picked up my controller and began to sift through my draft options.
“Yes! OMG. I’m so excited to be able to customize my coaches. And switch between coaching positions during the draft!”
I knew she would be ecstatic about the changes. When she found out she could see everyone’s draft picks, I could literally hear her jumping for joy over the line.
They’d made one more change before rolling out the update, and I turned down the volume on my headset before pointing it out.
“You might want to take a closer look at the player profiles, nerd.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she practically screamed. “They added their college stats! Holy cow! This is going to change everything! I can’t believe it!”
After a little more cheering, she suddenly gasped, “That was my suggestion!”
“Was it?” I asked innocently. The feedback from the betas was supposed to be anonymous, but since I didn’t know who she really was, I hadn’t felt any guilt at making sure her suggestion ended up before the right eyes.
It was a good call that would attract a lot of players who preferred a numbers-based strategy.
“I honestly wasn’t sure if my feedback was actually being considered. Dang, that is so cool.”
I grinned, her happiness filling me with warmth.
“Okay, geek, you are going down.”
“You wish, nerd,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
I’d been very careful not to take things in a sexual direction since our conversation about my gaming handle.
My girl—um, she—had become very important to me, and I didn’t want to risk our friendship.
Even when the beta shit was done, and we were technically allowed to know each other’s real identity, I doubted I’d go there with her.
She was too important, and I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.
“Earth to Gage.”
My head whipped up at the sound of a voice, and I found my friend and offensive coordinator, Cole O’Hara, standing in front of me.
I sat on a bench in front of my locker, still in nothing but a towel because I’d just come from the showers after a hard day during training camp.
Gia, one of the head designers for Beaumont Football, had sent me a text to let me know that access to the game had been officially closed since they’d finished the closed beta and were moving on to the final stages.
I’d known Gia for years, as a gamer and a friend because she was married to a college friend of mine. She’d worked on some very successful, prominent games, so when Lennox announced his new venture, I’d suggested he recruit her.
She was the only person who knew about my friendship with AllAboutTheStats, so when she messaged me about game access, she also asked if I wanted her to reach out to my gaming buddy and pass along my contact info.
My first instinct was to tell her hell yeah.
But then the doubts plaguing me for months took over, and I’d sat down, lost in thought.
I wasn’t delusional. I knew I was being a coward by avoiding meeting AllAboutTheStats.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d grown a vagina with the way I was acting.
“Something on your mind?” Cole asked.
When we were on the field, in practice, or at business-related team functions, he was Coach O’Hara. But outside the “office,” he was my friend, Cole. And I respected him too much to cross that line. We all did.
I shook my head. “Nothing important.” The words tasted bitter, but I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about my nerd.
“If you say so,” he replied with a dubious expression. When I didn’t engage, he sighed. “You did great today. Don’t let whatever is clouding your mind affect you on the field. I’m around if you need to talk about it.”
“Thanks.” I meant it genuinely. And maybe I’d take him up on it. Eventually.
“Yo, Brady!” Ames, one of our offensive linemen, called out to our second-string (the heir apparent to Prentice Wright, our legendary quarterback) quarterback as he walked into the room. “My wife called. She said Talia is in labor and to get your ass to the hospital.”
“Son of a bitch!” Brady shouted as he sprinted to the locker next to mine and yanked it open. He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys and ran for the door.
Cole stepped in front of him and grabbed his arm. “She’ll still be there after you change into something other than a towel, Brady,” he said, looking pointedly at the quarterback’s lack of attire.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, then spun around and dressed in record time before he was gone.
Ames laughed and shook his head. “At least he put on his shoes. When Dakota had Xavier, I showed up at the hospital in bare feet, all torn up from running across the gravel parking lot. And I still played in the game a couple of days later. But it hurt like a motherfucker.”
I winced, and he shrugged. “It’s what we do for the game and the women we love. You’ll understand someday.”
Prentice snorted from three lockers down and glanced at me with an amused expression. “Gage would have to be willing to be in a relationship first. Or at least interested in a date.”
Maybe I would if I wasn’t such a pussy.