Page 17 of Second Down Fake

“All the best people. People with taste.”

“You didn’t even ask how long those spice drops have been in my car. I’m not sure you’re an arbiter of taste.”

“You haven’t even seen my snack stash. You can’t judge.”

“Fair. Next time, we’ll take your car and I’ll house your snacks while you drive me around,” I said with a grin.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, popping a red spice drop into her mouth. “At least I’ll offer you some halfway decent candy.”

We pulled up to the mostly empty park. In the distance, people walked and ran around the path circling the lake. From the car, the disc golf course looked empty, and I sighed in relief.

“Is this it?” Cassandra asked, returning the candy to my center console.

“It’s a pretty exclusive course. You’re lucky I got us a tee time.” I parked the car and pushed open the door.

Cassandra stretched her arms over her head as she stood up from the car. My eyes wandered down to her exposed stomach, trying to remember the words she’d used to describe herself that winter night five years ago.

Soft. Mushy. No, squishy. There hadn’t been anything squishy about Cassandra. Soft, definitely. Not squishy.

“So, is there a pro shop where I can rent out some discs?” she asked, dropping her arms and giving me an amused grin.

I popped the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag. “I have you covered.”

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I gestured for Cassandra to follow me to the first hole.

“How did you get into this sport, anyway? Is ‘sport’ the right word? This hobby?”

“I’d call it a sport. There’s walking.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Walking. Definitely a sport. So, how?”

“There aren’t many options for football players. My contract keeps me from playing anything with even the faint whiff of injury.”

“What was that I heard about a windsurfing accident two years ago?” she asked with a grin.

I raked a hand through my hair before setting down the bag. “Not my finest moment. I was still new and thought I could get away with the same things I did in college. And then I nearly blew a multimillion-dollar contract, so my agent and your sister bailed me out. I’m reformed.”

It’d been the first summer I spent in New Hampshire, training with Becca. I couldn’t risk staying in Norwalk. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and I didn’t need the head coach to find out I had violated my contract during the off season. Instead, I’d reached out to the same woman who trained me in college. And then, I got her hired onto the team.

“She’s good at that, bailing people out,” Cassandra said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Especially handsome, cocky quarterbacks.”

“So, you think I’m handsome?” I fought back a grin.

“And cocky.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

I gave Cassandra a brief rundown of the game. More of a hobby, really, but during football season, when my entire life was devoured by plays and press and games and the team, the disc golf course was my oasis. A place where I didn’t need to be competitive. I didn’t need to rely on anyone else. I could just play.

I opened my bag, ready to start playing.

“Did you buy out a disc store?” Cassandra asked, sinking down beside me to run her hand over the colorful discs.

“No. I just like to be prepared.”

“How many of these do you actually play with? Don’t you just need one?”

“Do you play golf with one club?” I sifted through the set and pulled out a bright green control driver, handing it to her. “These all have different purposes. What did you think was in the bag?”

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