After more congratulatory slaps on my back, we head to lunch, and then will eventually make our way outside. Today’s our slow day, or recovery day as I like to call it. We’re going to walk through our plays after Peyton tells us we all suck, and then we’ll hit a little bit. I could forgo the hitting part of practice. It’s literally my least favorite thing in the world, which means I need to get faster at beating the defense down the field.
We all know the minute Kelsey is at the practice field. One of the guys whistles while another one mutters under his breath that he wished he could be her tour guide for the day. I almost hand over the reigns until I see her. She looks nervous, timid, and I think to myself it’s probably a good thing she ended up with me because I’m as harmless as they come. Not that any of my teammates would do anything stupid, but sometimes their filter lacks when there’s a lady around.
Coach calls an end to practice and yells for me to come see him. I take off my helmet and run to him, much like I did in high school or college. The entire moment feels like I’m trying to impress the cute girl on the sideline. Hell, maybe I am.
“Coach,” I say as I approach.
“Myles found out that Kelsey is new in town. She’s only been here a couple of months, moved from New York City.”
“Well at least we know she’s not a Jets or Giants fan.” I laugh. Coach doesn’t. Tough crowd.
“Anyway, answer her questions. Show her around the facility. Give her whatever she asks for.”
“Anything?”
Coach rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re representing the Pioneers. Make her fall in love with the sport. Hell, offer her tickets to the next game. She can sit in the booth, or we can give her a field pass. Just sell yourself and the sport.”
“I can do that.” I make my way toward the sideline where Myles stands with Kelsey. In two seconds flat, I smile like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. She’s gorgeous and far too pretty to hang out with the likes of me.
Myles nods toward me and says, “Kelsey, this is Alex Moore. He’s our center.”
This poor woman looks utterly confused. I don’t give her time to think about whether she wants to shake my hand or not and reach for hers. It’s tiny, dainty. I’m a giant compared to her. I could easily fit two of her onto my chest and probably leave room for another half person. She’s the perfect little spoon.
I turn on the charm, or what I have left after Maggie took most of it, and say, “Hello, Ms. Sloane. I’m Alex and I’m going to give you the ins and outs of football. But first, I need to shower. Myles will keep you company and bring you to the locker room in thirty minutes.” I have no idea why I repeat my name, but I have and it’s out there. Before I leave her, I wink. The reaction I have confuses me. I’m not a flirt and have never been accused of being smooth, but apparently when you win a contest you didn’t enter to show a beautiful woman around and tell her about your job, all the charm comes through.
Thirty minutes later, and after the guys gave me shit about the pixie waiting for me, I step out into the hallway to find Myles and Kelsey chatting it up. There isn’t a doubt in my mind they’ll be best friends by the end of the day. Myles is easy to get along with.
“All right, I’ll leave you in the hands of Alex. It was nice meeting you, Kelsey. Email me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Myles.”
Her voice is like a sweet song I could listen to on repeat, and I find myself with an unfamiliar feeling I can’t explain. Nerves? Butterflies?
“Thank you for doing this,” she says, looking directly into my eyes. I tower over her and have to bend down or step back to really see her. Through all my dating years, I’ve dated blondes and brunettes, but Kelsey, with her jet-black hair resting just below her shoulders in soft waves, has my full attention. I’ve never seen someone with deep, rich, brown eyes, but she has them and they gleam.
This isn’t going to be a chore after all, but a blessing that I get to spend the rest of my afternoon with her.
“I’ll be honest. We drew papers from a box, and I got the one that said winner.”
She laughs and the cute squeak she makes goes right through every part of my body. “Lucky you.”
“Definitely, lucky me.”
The tour of the facility lasts an hour. She takes copious notes, asking me questions along the way. When we get out to the field, I detail everything. What the lines mean, the hash marks, etcetera, and then I get into the nuts and bolts of how the game’s played. From the coin toss, to kick off. What happens at halftime, and then the end of the game, and how we have press conferences. I tell her about injuries, and how every day, something hurts, and we usually ignore it unless it could lead to something serious.
“And what do you do?”
“I’m the center.” I take her out to the center of the field and have the equipment man bring out the dummies. “This is where I stand. My job is to hike the ball to Noah and then block the two guards—one on my right and the other on my left—from getting to him. He needs time to hand the ball off or throw it.”
“Do you ever fail?”
“Of course, I do. I’m human. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“And what happens if Noah gets tackled?”
“The quarterback gets sacked,” I tell her. “It’s still a tackle, because the defense tackled him to the ground, but it’s called a sack.”
“Oh, wow. This is confusing.”
“I’m sure it is. Might I suggest you come to a game? I can set you up with someone who can explain the game to you as it happens.”
Kelsey nods. “Yes, that might be a good idea. When do you play?”
I can’t help the laugh that builds. “Mostly on Sundays. But sometimes we play on Mondays or Thursdays, and in January we might play on Saturdays.”
“Why the switch in January?”
“Because college football is over in January and there’s broadcast space to fill.”
“Oh.”
This poor woman looks thoroughly confused, and I feel sorry for her. “I don’t want to be presumptuous here, but would you like to have dinner tonight? If you have a partner, bring them along. I feel like I can describe football and our plays better if we’re sitting down, but I need to eat.” I pat my thick belly. I’m not fat, but I’m not skinny either. But I like food and need to eat.
“That would be lovely.”
“Great, I know a great little diner, not far from here. You can follow me.”
“Actually, I don’t have a car. I’ll call for a cab.”
“Or you can ride with me, if you’d like, and then I'll bring you home?”
Kelsey thinks about it for a moment, and then nods.
Outside, in the parking lot, Kelsey walks next to me. When we reach my truck, I help hoist her into it. For the first time since I had it tricked out, I hate and love it for the same reason. I hate that I had to touch her when she barely knows me but love that I had to touch her because I like the way she feels in my hands. Rushing around to the driver’s side, I hop in and bring the souped-up engine to life. The roar is deafening at first and then calms down once in gear.
“This is a big truck.”