Page 29 of Gossip Game

“If I’m cranky, it’s because this dickhead is badmouthing my QB for no good reason.” Brody chucked a pretzel at the flat screen.

Devlin signaled to the bartender. “Change the channel to the Food Network before Kincaid causes everyone in the place to lose their appetite.”

“You got it, boss.” The bartender hunted for the remote. Not fast enough for the occupants of the bar to miss Bucky Kincaid’s cockamamie theories, however.

“Of course, everyone in the world knows what is throwing Noah Dudson off his game.” Kincaid smirked for the camera. “The guy can’t perform—” Kincaid faked a cough “—without his woman cheering him on.”

“Oh no, he didn’t,” Brody growled.

The bartender pointed the remote at the television.

“Don’t,” Noah snapped. He wanted to hear what the twit said before he had to read about it every time he picked up his phone.

“Ignore him, Hudson,” Devlin said. “The guy is just tossing out click-bait.”

Noah held up his hand. As much as he’d love to, no way was he ignoring this. Devlin sighed wearily as he shook his head.

Kincaid babbled on. “Which begs the question, where in the world is Princess Charlotte? I mean, she paid twenty-five thousand bucks to possess the Blaze quarterback. Every piece of him.” The idiot winked at the screen. “Some would argue she overpaid.” Kincaid raised his hand. “Of course, she probably has shoes that cost more than that. Either way, if these two really are an item, shouldn’t she be in the stadium watching him play? Or has she given up on him just like I’ve been telling her brother’s team they ought to do?”

“Is this guy for real?” Brody croaked out.

“Know what I think?” Kincaid asked his toady sidekick. “I think the guy is just as big of a dud off the field, if you know what I mean.”

Laughter echoed throughout Kincaid’s set. Devlin snatched up the remote and changed the channel to the weather.

“Mother of God. How does that pompous shit get away with saying those things on television?” Brody demanded.

“It’s a replay of his podcast,” the bartender explained. “They give him a little more leeway there. The more outrageous he is, the more people tune in.”

Brody stabbed at his phone screen. “I don’t care. Slander is slander. Lucky for you, Huddy, my sister is a brilliant attorney. And married to the team’s owner. She’ll take your case pro-bono.”

“I’m not suing the guy.” Noah yanked the tight end’s phone out of his hands and hit end call. “It would give Kincaid a bigger platform for his ego.”

“Hudson’s right. The weasel doesn’t need a bigger megaphone.” Devlin shot a look at Brody, gesturing to the tight end’s phone in Noah’s hand. “And you need to tighten your grip. No wonder that DB was able to wrench the ball away from you so easily.”

Brody sputtered a protest that didn’t register with Noah. He was too angry to think. His phone was already blowing up with calls from his agent. No doubt the guy wanted to get into a pissing match with Kincaid, too. Ignoring his phone, he tossed back what remained of his beer and stood. “I’m out of here.”

Devlin stood, too, blocking the way. “Hudson, this loss is not on you, no matter what that loudmouth says. You executed the game plan exactly the way it was designed. You’re not going to win every game. Put it out of your head and move on to this week’s opponent.”

It was ironic how much the former quarterback sounded like Noah’s dad. He’d heard that same speech a million times before. The words were practical and true. Except they never quite wiped all the sting out of a loss.

“Yeah, Huddy,” Brody added. “You have the support of everyone in our locker room. We win as a team. We lose as a team. You’re too skilled of an athlete to be distracted by off-the-field chatter. Or a woman, no matter how hot she is.” The tight end winked.

Devlin rolled his eyes. “Guess you aren’t as skilled, then, because I remember you being very distracted by Shay.”

“Hey! That’s not how it was at all,” Brody argued.

Noah left them to their good-natured bickering and headed for the exit. The thing was, Charlotte had become a major distraction. He resented how much headspace she took up. She was on his mind day and night.

Especially at night.

It was no surprise that he wanted her in his bed. A man would have to be dead not to. It was the idea of how much he wanted out of bed that was messing with his psyche.

The only time he could tune her out was when he was on the field. He’d spent years cultivating the skill of shutting off the extraneous noise when it mattered. Bucky Kincaid and his crowd of critics weren’t even a whisper when the football was in Noah’s hands.

Brody was right, though. Noah wasn’t the problem. Still, he didn’t want to throw shade at his receivers. They all caught his passes perfectly in practice. It was when the stands were full that they got the dropsies. He needed to work harder to make sure they got better at their craft.

Noah parked his truck in the garage of the modest townhouse he owned near the Blaze training facility and glanced down at his phone. It had been buzzing non-stop throughout the drive. He relaxed when a photo of his Meemaw popped up on the screen. He didn’t dare ignore her.

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