Page 22 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

The little girl beamed. “I try. I’m a lot faster than most of them.” Her smile fell. “But Mama says I have to stop playing when they stop doing flag football.”

Lucia tried to hide her frown. “Why’s that?”

The little girl shrugged, placing her small hands onto the vee of her football pads. The motion was adorable, and Lucia wanted to hug her. “She keeps telling Daddy that she doesn’t want me playing with the boys because I’ll get hurt. Daddy thinks I’d be a good wide receiver, though.”

“I bet you will be.” Lucia’s eyes found Colton, who was letting another little boy wrestle him to the ground. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sadie.”

“Okay, Sadie. You see that big, stinky boy over there?” Lucia pointed at Colton, who was standing back up. When Sadie nodded, she continued, “You go tackle him, and tell your Mama you took out an NFL quarterback.”

Sadie took off. Colton’s eyes widened as she approached at full speed, slamming into him. He made eye contact with Lucia as he went down, and she bent over with laughter at his expression. She knew it was to show the little girl she was just as strong as the boys, but that made her smile wider.

He was a big softie. He never should have invited her to watch, because she wasn’t going to let him live it down. All his douchebaggery had been a front. Or maybe he’d saved it just for her.

He raised his hands in faux frustration. “Ref, come on! I saw you tell her to do that, I didn’t even have the ball.”

She jogged over to them as best she could in her heels, already yelling, “Play on!”

Their fourth regular season game coincided with the start of Lucia’s favorite month: October. The air was crisp, the sweaters and sweatshirts were out—even if Charleston didn’t always provide the coolest of weather—and the football was getting good.

Lucia felt oddly excited to stand in the end zone for Colton. The Vipers never had a tradition like this one, and even if they had, who knows if Max would’ve wanted her on the field. Excitement swirled in her chest.

Colton led the team out onto the field, and the screams of the crowd were deafening. Lucia shared a smile with one of the wives who stood beside her as they covered their ears. Blade, the Sabertooths’ mascot, jumped up and down on the field, engaging the crowd in a Sabers roar as partnered players ran over to their spouses and significant others.

Colton approached Lucia, taking his helmet off as he jogged over. The crowd was so loud that she didn’t hear the words he whispered to her. He set the helmet down at her feet and gently placed his hands on either side of her face. His forehead met hers.

“Next time, you should wear my jersey. Like them.” He inclined his head toward the women beside her, but she couldn’t move her head to look, so focused on him. Before that evening on the third floor, she’d thought his eyes were brown, but up close, she’d learned they were lighter. And was that a hint of green? She hadn’t noticed that in the darkness of the meal room.

“You forget that I’m working. I can’t very well sit in the analyst box in your jersey.”

Colton grumbled. The crowd was still cheering around them, but Lucia saw the other players start to head back toward the field.

“Are you going to kiss me? Or keep staring aggressively into my eyes?”

He sighed. “Dammit, Moretti. I was trying to bring some semblance of romance to our first kiss.” His eyes fell to her mouth. Then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers firmly.

It was a little more than a peck, and he was gone in an instant, but she was light-headed. Just the crowd, and the lights, and the cameras, she assured herself. She’d felt this rush before when thousands of eyes had rested upon her and Max during his proposal, except that had felt disingenuous, like Max had been doing it for the attention. This felt right somehow, and she didn’t know what to think about that new, excited fluttering in her chest.

It was just the attention making her feel that way. It wasn’t the kiss, and it definitely wasn’t the look in his eyes before he’d kissed her. Or that decidedly arrogant smirk she thought she’d hated until recently.

She followed the rest of the partners back through the tunnel, then found her way to her box. For the first time, the rest of the analysts acknowledged her, some of them smiling, others waving. During the first half, they listened to her both times she spoke up. They even let her proof the numbers during halftime before one of the interns ran the data to the coaches and broadcasters.

She was thankful to finally get the respect she knew she deserved, but hated that it was only because of who they believed she was dating. It was infuriating, especially when she knew she probably worked as hard as, if not harder than, all the men in that room with her. She stewed during halftime but forgot all about it in the third quarter.

Colton was taking sack after sack. His o-line was completely disrupted, giving him no time to find a receiver. Even when he handed the ball off to his running backs, they were getting stuffed at the line.

She could see how tense he was getting, could see the frustration in each of his throws. She didn’t know when she’d keyed into his movements so distinctly, but it was as obvious to her as the sun rising over the horizon on a clear day. He was pissed, and it was affecting his motion. He looked like he had during preseason.

The fourth quarter wasn’t better. Colton threw a pick, took two more sacks, and ended the game with far less yardage than their past three games. The team was deflated, and Colton was there at the center of it, yelling at the sky as fans filed out of the stadium dejectedly. The energy in the box was just as dim, and she excused herself.

Only as she walked toward the press conference room did she see the texts from Max.

Max

This little game of yours is getting pathetic, Lucia. Stop messing around.

This is ridiculous. If that kiss was for my benefit, you’re acting like a child.

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