Page 15 of Tumbling the Cornerback

Yeah, I knew it wasn’t going to be a date but couldn’t blame me for trying, right?

Me: Like wine?

Lucas: *laughing emoji *You’re adorable. Seven pm. Any earlier and you’ll have to wait outside.

I shoved my phone into my pocket as Yowie and Anders tumbled into the kitchen, shoving at each other good-naturedly. “Football terminology only,” Anders insisted.

“You can’t play Scrabble with just football words,” Yowie protested. “Coop, tell him.”

“Hey, it’s his house, his rules.” I shrugged, saluting Anders with my beer. “Worried you don’t know enough big word, Yowie?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, reaching out to pinch my arm. We devolved into a juvenile slap fight that spilled out into Anders’ back yard. The other guys trailed after us. An hour or so later, when we ended up with a small fire in the metal contraption Anders was so proud of and the tussling died down to shit-talking and rambling, I got my phone out again.

Me: Seven is great.

Lucas’s reply was damn near instant, making my stomach flutter at the possibility he’d been waiting to hear back from me. Because apparently, I was still sixteen inside and wanted to squeal at the sight of my crush’s name.

Lucas: Awesome! Can’t wait.

I glanced up to see Anders watching me with an intent, curious stare. “What?”

“Wondering who you’re talking to. Can’t be your sister—no one looks like that when they talk to their sister.”

“Ooooooh,” Yowie teased. “You got yourself a fella? What’s his name? When can we meet him? you know the team has to approve.”

“Since when?” I laughed. “No way in hell am I letting y’all around anyone I’m dating. And I’m not dating anyone, for the record. It’s a... a PR thing.”

Rye sat forward, dropping his feet from where they’d been resting on the cooler. “A PR thing? There’s nothing on the schedule for the rest of the month.”

“It’s his new spokesmodel gig,” Jensen, one of the newer players and a second stringer, announced a little sloppily, waving his beer in my direction. “Gonna go do a photo shoot for the queer kids thing, Coop?” He shimmied his shoulders and made a purse-lipped face.

“Cut it out,” I snapped. “It’s not like that. Yeah, it’s for Queering Sports. Lucas Ortiz is helping organize some long-term fundraiser thing, and since I got pulled into the whole media thing about last weekend, Cait suggested I help out.”

“Cait did, huh?” Yowie murmured, raising a brow. “And you’re not fussing?”

“Why should I? We’re in pre-season right now. I’ve got time between practices and shit.” Another shrug. “Besides, Queering Sports is an awesome group, and they need more support.”

“No denying that,” Rye agreed. “Just kind of surprised you’re okay with adding PR stuff to your plate. You know as well as any of us do—it’s not exactly light work during pre-season.”

He wasn’t wrong, but still I persisted. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not running the thing, just showing up for some photo ops or something from the sound of it.” Though it really sounded like more, if our brief lunch meeting was anything to go by. Still... “And if Cait’s cool with it, then it won’t be that heavy. She knows our schedules and understands the higher-ups will lose their shit if we get overbooked and it interferes with training.”

Rye didn’t appear convinced, but he tipped his chin in acknowledgement and sat back. “Just be careful.”

Returning his nod, I leaned back myself. “I’ll be fine.”

CHAPTER 5

LUCAS

In the hour between my sister and nephew leaving and Coop arriving, I did a last minute "Flight of the Bumblebee" tidy-up (entirely unnecessary but kept me from fidgeting), arranged, then rearranged the throw pillows on the sofa four times, changed my shirt from a snarky pop culture reference tee to a button-up then back again, brushed my teeth, tried to watch TV... Generally lowkey panicked until the buzzer chimed, letting me know someone needed to be let in downstairs.

I fumbled with the access code and, a moment later, received a text informing me Your Guest Is On the Way! Thanks For Living At Bluebonnet Tower!

Cooper was here. At my apartment. Alone. And even though I knew it was for this project, I couldn't stop the rush of excitement spinning through my core and spreading through my extremities. "Just because the project is huge and it's a major step," I muttered, rubbing my damp palms on my jeans. "Get it together, Lucas."

Then he knocked, and all my cool, such as it was, flew out the window.

He's a player. Just like Jimmy. And you know how that went.

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