Page 6 of Gossip Game

He sucked in a deep breath. “Got it. Your little stunt back there was so we’d somehow be even.”

She all but stomped her foot. “You could at least be a little more grateful.”

He swallowed the growl threatening to escape his chest. Christ, his mom would be so ashamed of him right now. He was being a total dick. Charlotte and her ilk played by different rules than everyone else. Sure, Noah was a starting quarterback on one of the premier football teams in the US. He didn’t earn the money of a superstar—yet. Even when he did, though, he still wouldn’t be in Charlotte Davis’ league.

Tonight wasn’t her fault. She’d obviously believed she was helping by interjecting herself into the auction. Least said, soonest mended, his Meemaw always says. The smart thing to do would be to put them both out of their misery by offering up a gracious thank you and moving on.

He was about to do that when he spied the light of a cellphone camera pointed in their direction. A few more Looky Lous were clustered behind the man, several of them fumbling with their own phones.

Noah quickly unlocked the door to his truck. “Get in.”

“Wow, you really know how to woo a girl.” She crossed her arms and cocked her hip defiantly.

This damn woman…

He jerked his chin past her shoulder. She glared at him before turning and spotting the amateur paparazzi. With a softly uttered curse, she hurried into the Bronco and crawled across to the passenger side. Noah climbed in beside her, shoved the key in the ignition, letting the engine roar before peeling out of the parking lot.

Luke Combs was on the radio, appropriately singing about a fast car as Noah sped down the school’s long driveway. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he didn’t see anyone behind him. Charlotte turned toward the back window to look for herself.

“It’s getting more and more difficult to have a private life,” she murmured.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Charlotte groaned, slumping down in her seat. “Bucky Kincaid appears to have made it his life’s mission to troll you. And it feels much more vindictive than with other athletes he calls out. I can’t help but think it’s because of me.”

Her tone was contrite, as if—wonder upon wonders—she did feel a minuscule amount of guilt.

“And everything that went down that night,” she finished.

Noah stopped at an intersection, sighing as he leaned his head back against the headrest. That was his theory, too. The douchebag sports talk host didn’t appreciate being rebuffed by Charlotte. More likely, Kincaid didn’t like being tossed over for the nobody second-string quarterback Noah was back then.

Even though Kincaid wasn’t a loud voice in sports media at the time, the undrafted former college star managed to worm his way into locker rooms, pestering players for the inside scoop that would help him elevate his status. He’d spent the three seasons since positioning himself as wunderkind podcaster and fan-favorite talking-head on “Football Sunday,” the pregame show most of America watched every week. The gig gave him a bigger platform to carry out a grudge.

One that appeared to be entirely focused on tearing Noah down.

THREE

Three years earlier…

It was a typical fall evening in London, chilly with a hint of moisture in the air. The Blaze were in town for a game against the Milwaukee Growlers. The overseas contests were more like a mini-vacation mid-season, with the days leading up to the game a bit more relaxed than other weeks. Mainly because the players and their families were all staying in the same hotel. One evening, Noah had joined several of the single guys for a fierce game of darts in a pub next to the team hotel.

As Noah made his way back from the men’s room, he encountered a couple in the dark hallway. The guy had his back to him while he herded the woman against the wall. The hairs on the back of Noah’s neck stood up as he drew closer.

“You know you want to,” he heard the guy say.

The woman with him didn’t sound like she wanted to at all. In fact, it looked like she might be struggling. Noah was debating how he should intercede when she jerked away from the man and launched herself into Noah’s arms.

“Babe,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “There you are. I hate it when you leave me alone at the bar.”

Noah couldn’t help but inhale her wildflower scent when she buried her face against his neck.

“Please play along,” she whispered. Her breathy request brought goosebumps to his skin. She spoke with an accent that sounded distinctly American. And familiar. But it was difficult to place her while they were in the dark shadows.

After a very brief hesitation—he was a red-blooded male, after all—he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. Her soft huff of relief brushed his ear when she relaxed against him.

She was tall. Rarely did a woman’s body line up perfectly with his. Noah decided he liked it. He liked it a lot.

“I got you,” he murmured.

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