Page 18 of Offsides Attraction

“Trying to. I’m stuck at what must be the longest stoplight on the planet.”

“If no one’s coming, run it.”

“Yeah, no,” Bash said as the light turned green. The last thing the team needed was for him to be pulled over by the CCPD. Harper would pen an opinion piece falsely blaming the Tetons for a crime spree. “What do you know about book clubs?”

“What kind? Women drinking wine, most of whom didn’t finish the book or the subscription sort?”

“Neither. Ones sponsored by bookstores.”

“Why?”

“There’s a bookstore in Cascade City that sponsors clubs and I’ve been to a few.”

“Really? Which ones?” Bash heard his dad’s surprise.

“I went to two for a kids’ group discussing book three in the Ricky Rivera series.”

“Did they like it enough to justify the runaway sales?”

“They loved it. In fact, they’re reading book four next. We need a book like that.” But with dragons.

“I’ll get right on that,” his dad mumbled. VV Pub wasn’t a hot publisher for middle-grade fiction. But we could be. “What else do they have?”

“Women’s fiction, romance, a police procedural where they compare notes as to what the detective should have done, and a new age, Buddhist-type group.”

“Interesting.”

“It is. They’re encouraging readers and building a sense of community. I think it might be an opportunity for us.”

“I’ll have marketing look into it. There’s too much information for one person to stay on top of.”

“Subtle, Dad.” Bash complained as the guilt pricked him.

“Caught that, huh?”

“Hard not to, but I have two more seasons on my contract.” He hoped the reminder would keep his dad from harping on Bash’s choosing to play football instead of joining the business full-time.

“What did you think of the books I sent you?”

“They didn’t hold my attention. I couldn’t get past 30 percent in either of them.”

John’s heavy sigh filled the car. “It’s not always about fun, Bash.” Bash worked hard, but when he had free time, he wanted to do something he enjoyed. Read something entertaining, travel, try new foods, be outside. While his dad was the opposite. He spent so much time playing and amusing himself that he could indulge in heavier tomes.

“I know, but if a book is good for me, I want it to be good, too. Approachable but not preachy.”

“Easier said than done, but you’ll know soon enough when you’re here in the hot seat sharing in the decisions and guessing what the readers will buy. And speaking of not fun, did you read the second quarter financials I sent and the revised forecast for the fall?”

“I looked at the forecast, but not the financials. Those are old news. I’m pulling into the driveway. Let me know what marketing says, okay?” Bash hung up before his dad could respond. He was five minutes from home, and he didn’t feel guilty about lying. If the conversation had continued, it would have disintegrated into disappointment, resentment, and guilt.

Bash slowed as he entered their neighborhood. An older couple walked a dog that looked older than them, and he raised his hand automatically when they waved. New Yorkers don’t wave. But in Cascade City, people waved at neighbors, and the kids left their toys out at night, knowing they’d be there in the morning. He liked this oddly charming city with its mix of big city amenities and businesses and small-town friendliness, caring, and size. It amazed him that no matter where he was, he could get to where he needed to be in under twenty minutes, no matter the time of day. Unless he was at the bookstore where he’d need to add five minutes because of that hellish stoplight.

Penny was also growing on him, a feeling that puzzled him. She barely tolerated him, but he was relaxed around her. Unless she was glaring at him, but even then, he felt calm. It baffled him. She baffled him, so it was a good thing he wouldn’t have much free time in his schedule. Between the Tetons and reading submissions for VV Pub, he didn’t have the energy to be baffled.

“Any idea why we’re both here?” Derrick Nickerson asked as they lounged against the wall across from Coach Mack’s office. Coach Shockley hadn’t mentioned the left tackle would be joining them.

“No clue.” Bash shrugged. Nickerson pulled out his phone and nudged him, showing him a blooper reel from last Sunday’s NFL games. Missed catches, tackles into thin air, and QBs dropped on their asses. The fans loved nothing better than to watch the pros botch it. People are twisted, he thought, rolling his shoulder slowly and carefully, just as the trainer had reminded him to.

“Did Bob do that cupping thing on you?” Nickerson asked.

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