Page 52 of Catching Feels

“Professor Wiseman, NMC. Glasses. You take them off, I’m going to be lost.” I lift a chin to the man to his right and already know who he is. “CBS Sports, Tony ‘Touchdown’ Romeo. I got you. Next to you, SportsNet, Mike Maple, magic on the mic.”

They all laugh.

“One more, and we’ll save the rest for next time in here with you all. TBS Sports, Timmy O’Learly, the tallest man in the room, let’s start with you.”

“That was one hell of a hit last night; what held you back today?”

“Game’s always a little off when I’m too deep in …” I pause because I see Rome sit forward, and all I can think is “your sister.” Fuck! “Yeah, just like that, in my head. We’ll watch reels tonight, fix what we can, and be back tomorrow to win a third game.”

I nod to the professor.

“Practically mid-season, and they just started giving you and Bennett a break. Was there a reason for that?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “They probably didn’t wanna hear both Bennett and I complain about being on the bench.”

“Giddy up?” I nod to the Fox guy.

“You happy catching, or do you miss the field?”

“I’m just happy playing ball. They can put me wherever they want me.” I look at Rome. “You wanna take a few?”

11

O’Donnell’s

Jillian

“Was I right, or was I right?” Fawna calls over the crowd.

“You were right,” I call back.

“You doing okay? Need a break?” Abe asks.

“Harts don’t take breaks.” I smile as I hurry to the end of the bar where a group of guys are waiting.

“What can I get for you?”

“Your name, number, the promise that you’ll be the mother of my children?”

“Coming on a little strong, but I respect the game,” I joke. “You gotta respect the hustle, though. There’s a whole bar full, waiting for drinks to be served.”

“Five shots of whatever you and I’ll be drinking on your next night off.”

“Better get him a straw with whatever he orders,” comes from behind him, and I look up to see Hudson. “He’s gonna need it to drink out of when his jaw’s wired shut because he’s talking to a fine young lady like that.”

“You better have backup, man,” the hottie who just asked for my info and womb says as he turns around and is face to chest with my brother. The idiot stands on the rungs of a barstool to get eyeball-to-eyeball with him. “We cool?”

Hudson shakes his head. “Why did God make men your size with brains two sizes too small?”

“He’s a black belt,” one of his friends pipes in.

“Yeah, the bigger they are, the harder they fall,” another needles.

Hudson ignores them. “Can I bet a beer, barkeep?”

“We were here first,” the seriously cute, average size … idiot says as I pour Hudson a beer.

“Then order your drinks, little buddy.” Hudson smirks.

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