Page 16 of The Play

Grant’s gaze trailed down his body.

Why had he cut off his practice jersey? Oh yeah, it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. His abs tightened almost instinctively as Grant stared at them.

“You look . . .uh . . .well-ventilated,” Grant said. And he was flushing red, not just because it was July in Charleston. Deacon was sure of it.

He’d been so positive in college that his crush was one-sided.

But Deacon knew enough now not to believe the flash of heat he felt was just him.

It was mutual, and they couldn’t do anything about it.

The Condors were going to be under a microscope this year—and probably for years to come. The NFL was tired of them making the whole league look bad. Tired of the bad publicity.

Grant couldn’t take a step out of line.

Even if he wanted to.

Even if Deacon wanted him to.

He’d just need to swallow it. Redirect all of this onto the field.

He could do that.

Right?

“You think Coach Kelley is gonna do right by us?” Deacon asked.

Grant shot him a look. Coach Kelley had been Deacon’s first choice, but Grant’s second.

Ironically, Grant’s one complaint about Coach Kelley was that he’d been too young.

“I do, actually,” Grant said. “You still standing by your first choice?”

“Absolutely,” Deacon said. He really liked Coach Kelley. He was young, sure, but he was hungry. Innovative. Willing to do what it took to not only win games but to rebuild the team.

He reminded Deacon of Asa Dawson, just fifteen years younger, and frankly after the way the Piranhas had turned their team culture around in only one season, that could only be a good comparison.

“I talked to Landry a bit yesterday, when he got in,” Grant said. “You were right there, too.”

Landry Banks had been at the top of the list of players Deacon had sent to Grant during the offseason. Players that the team could afford, who would make a real impact on the team now. Players, also, that Deacon knew would positively affect team culture.

“Of course I was,” Deacon said, grinning.

Probably more pleased than he should’ve been at Grant’s approval.

“You’re good at this,” Grant said.

“So are you, but then I think you’ve made that kind of a career hallmark—doing things nobody thinks you can do,” Deacon teased. Somehow they’d ended up closer together. Who’d moved? Had it been him? Had it been Grant? Or both of them?

Grant smiled, and it felt sweetly intimate. A smile meant just for Deacon. “I can’t say it was easy, but you made it easier.”

“It was honestly my pleasure,” Deacon said. Let me do more. Let me take you up on all those looks you keep trying to pretend you’re not giving me.

But that would be insanity. He knew it. And still he thought about it.

He didn’t say it, though.

“Well, go kick some ass, okay?” Grant said, and there was that smile again.

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