Page 17 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

The hair on the back of Lucia’s neck rose, and she remembered Colton’s warning from a week earlier. Despite finally pulling her car door open, throwing herself inside, and locking the doors, the panic didn’t subside. It took her a couple of minutes, but she finally realized why.

Her car wouldn’t start. She was alone—she hoped—in the Sabers’ parking garage, and her car wouldn’t start. She weighed her options, wondering if it would be better for her to sleep in her car for the night than to call a rideshare. Just as she’d decided that was her best option, a knock on her window startled her. She let out a shriek, jumping out of her seat before searching for her pepper spray.

“Moretti, open the damn door.”

Lucia breathed a sigh of relief, thankful it was only Colton. She cracked the door a little.

“Yes?”

“Get out.”

She stuck her chin out defiantly. “Stop. Telling. Me. What. To. Do.” Just for good measure, she added, “Asshole.”

“What did I tell you about staying here so late? Why don’t you listen to anything?” He looked like he was ready to throw her over his shoulder and walk over to the car she’d been too scared to even notice. She really hadn’t done a good job of casing her surroundings.

“There’s only so much work I can do from my house without my equipment.”

“Get out.”

“Can’t you just give me a jump?”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t respond. She opened the door and folded herself out of the car slowly, deliberately making him wait. If he was going to boss her around, she would do everything in her power to make it harder for him.

She followed behind him, astounded when he opened the passenger-side door of his Ferrari.

“Why the hell do you care anyway?”

“I’d rather my personal sports analyst not get murdered during the season.” His jaw was clenched. He seemed oddly stressed.

“Wow, you’re so kind. I’ll be sure to only dangle myself in front of the Charleston murderers once the season is over.”

He apparently didn’t find that funny, his face stoic as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Guide me to your house.” He nodded toward his phone, which was held up by a magnet connected to the air vents.

She picked it up, pointing it at him so he could enter his password.

“It’s one-one-zero-seven.”

Lucia nearly dropped the phone. Max hadn’t ever given her his password. She was so shocked that she just listened to him, typing in the password and then her address before placing the phone back.

They sat in tense silence until Lucia couldn’t take it anymore. “How much did you see?”

“Of you jumping into your car like you were being chased by a man wielding a chainsaw? Pretty much all of it. I had just gotten into my car when you came out of the elevator.”

She closed her eyes, dreading her next words. “Well, thank you. I’m not gonna apologize, because I didn’t do anything wrong. But thank you for saving me from sleeping in my car.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even nod, just flicked on his blinker as he turned onto a residential street.

Just when she thought they would stay silent for the rest of the ride, he said, “I worry about my little sister every day. I don’t know if she’d ever tell me if something happened, or if, god fucking forbid, something has already happened, but I worry about her being outside at night every single day.”

Lucia tried not to melt at his confession. Once again, he’d surprised her. She twirled her ring around her middle finger, not sure how to respond. She looked out at the beautiful mansions with manicured lawns, cursing herself for investing all of her money instead of spending it on the finer things in life. Like an NFL player’s old house.

A few minutes later, when they’d moved away from the player mansions, Colton pulled in front of her new house. She wondered for a moment what he thought of it, brushing some invisible dust off her skirt awkwardly. He stopped the car, got out, and walked over to her side.

Why was he being so…chivalrous? What happened to the annoying, hard-headed Colton she couldn’t stand?

She locked eyes with him as she stepped out of the car, nearly teetering on her heels as his eyes slid to the bottom of her skirt and then down her legs. He started to reach out like he was going to offer her his hand, but she was nearly standing already, and he seemed to think better of it, stuffing his hand into the pocket of those damn gray sweatpants she hated that she loved.

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