Page 6 of Fumble

“Am I ever going to live down the first twenty-four hours of this job?” Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze—a strength I admire. I don’t know many women who would want to make eye contact after this morning’s episode.

“I’m just messing with you. Look, why don’t we start over?” I hold out my hand, but the moment her delicate fingers slip into my palm, I regret it. This simple connection has my pulse racing. I repeat the same sentence over and over in my mind—she’s Coach’s daughter, and she’s half my age.

“I’d like that. Hi, I’m Faith Fairchild, and I’ll be your personal assistant this summer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” A sultry smile spreads across her lips, reaching her eyes.

“Hunter Vaughn. Looking forward to working with you. First order of business, lots of coffee today. This interviewer is a snore. It’s going to be a long day.”

“I can do that.” She pulls a notebook and pen from her purse. “How do you take your coffee, boss?”

“Black, no sugar.”

“What else do I need to know about NFL legend, Hunter Vaughn?” We chat back and forth about what she should expect in different situations—radio interviews, television, game- day appearances. She studiously scribbles down every little detail, intent on making a good impression the second time around. As I explain how much this accolade will mean to me, she slips the head of her pen between her lips, distracting me mid-sentence.

Fuck, she’s hot.

She’s Coach’s daughter, and she’s half my age.

I’ve gained a reputation throughout my career as a bad boy—a player—but even for me, there’s a line I won’t cross to get laid. I haven’t fucked a twenty-one-year-old in at least a decade. There’s a younger woman, and then there’s too close to jailbait for my liking. I don’t sleep with staff—that’s just good business. But number one on my list is never sleeping with a teammate’s sister or mother. I made that mistake in college and got a broken jaw from the team captain. When it comes to Dennis Fairchild’s daughter, the rule applies ten times over.

When I arrived at Stanford, I thought I was a god. High school had given me a false sense of myself. I was the best player that team had seen in thirty years. The girls worshiped me, and the guys wanted to be me. I was invincible. My reputation preceded me, and my college teammates were well versed on my stats when we started training together. I was a one-man team. Realizing I was in amongst a full roster of high school gods was a rude awakening. Angry and frustrated, Dennis helped me channel my destructive energy into the game. He unlocked my potential and taught me to play as part of a team, rather than a one-man wrecking ball.

By the time we arrive at the television studio, Faith has pages and pages of notes. I didn’t think there was that much information to be written about me—period. The rest of the crew is waiting for us inside. Malcolm makes a beeline for Faith, his usual disgruntled expression more prominent than ever. I pull him aside before he opens his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say.

“Faith, why don’t you find out what the others want and go grab some coffee and bagels? You got the company credit card in the welcome pack, right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m on it.” I can’t help watching as she makes her way over to introduce herself to everyone. She has an air of confidence that betrays the nervous girl I met last night. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I turn my attention to Malcolm.

“Don’t chew her out. She forgot to set her alarm to Eastern.”

“You hate tardiness. Jesus! Did you fuck her last night? Or is that what took you so long to get here? Goddammit, Vaughn.”

“Seriously? Glad you have such a low opinion of me. No, I didn’t fuck her. She’s Coach’s daughter. She’s nervous enough, and I don’t think you’ll help matters if you go over there all guns blazing. I spoke with her in the car. She knows what to expect.”

“Fine, but if this happens again…”

“It won’t.”

I know Malcolm just wants everything to go off without a hitch. The Hall of Fame is a big deal, but his assumptions about Faith and me really annoyed me. He’s been my manager for fifteen years, and he knows me better than that. And for some reason, I’m taking offense on behalf of Faith. Does he think she looks like the type of woman to drop her panties after a few hours?

Fortunately, my phone rings, and I avoid saying something I’ll regret later. With a sharp nod, I disappear out into the lobby, shouting at the unlucky bastard on the other end of the line. Taking out my frustration on entirely the wrong person isn’t usually my ‘MO,’ but today I made the exception. I’ll kick myself later, but what I’m feeling right now is foreign to me.

Once the call ends, I take some time to pace in the New York version of silence—a constant flow of strangers scurrying by on their way to work. Anonymity is something I gave up a long time ago, but in this moment, I’m just another ant in the crowd—faceless and uninteresting. It’s great.

Faith appears with a tray of coffees and bags of bagels, handing me a cup. I grab the door to help her, and I’m floored by the glowing smile that greets me along with the scent of her perfume as she brushes past. “Fuck.” The door slams shut as I curse my traitorous body for reacting to her this way. I make a quick call to my friend, Cooper. He’s always been my voice of reason even though he can’t manage his own life nearly as well! Cooper is concerned.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“She’s Coach’s daughter.”

“Did you sleep with Coach’s girl? Tell me you didn’t.”

“Of course, I didn’t.”

“But you want to. I can hear it in your voice.”

“She’s really fucking hot and sort of quirky. Not my type at all, but try telling that to my dick.”

“Stay away from her, Vaughn.”

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