Page 7 of Change Your Play

Cleo brought the coffee to her lips and took a small sip, just like I wanted to take a sip from her. Pulling away from me, she gave a knowing look about our audience and then pointed towards a metaphorical clock hanging over us. “What about the apology?”

“Could I extend the apology to dinner?”

“Dinner?” she repeated, surprised.

“And we could extend it afterward.” I grinned. “A very…professional kind of apology.”

“Miles, do you want to take a seat?” Coach Lawson interjected. “What’re we doing here?”

Cleo shook her head. “Miles Locke isn’t on our list. He’s just here to drop off coffee.”

“I mean, lists can change,” I pointed out.

Daring to hope, the assistant coaches craned their necks, waiting for the tie-breaking vote. Surprise fluttered across Cleo’s face again. She thought I was leaving the coffee order and waiting for her outside? No way in hell.

Walking over to a chair, I sat, relaxed as could be, and gestured towards the seat next to me. “Ms. Bennight, you’re welcome to sit with me.”

It was like a switch flipped. The parting lips snapped shut and Cleo took a quick walk to the other side of the room, the side with a mountain of color-coordinated folders.

“I have my desk here, Mr. Locke. Did you fill out the preliminary forms in the lobby?”

“Uh…no.”

She brought over a ballpoint pen. “I suggest you write quickly.”

3

Cleo

Nice For My Vixen

Underneath the miles and miles of KYU scouting paperwork - there he was. Miles Locke. I tapped the side of my computer with my nails, browsing over the websites for different pictures of him. It wasn’t an obsession. The man justlookedgood. Who was I to deny checking out the sights while I was in Oklahoma?

“Cleo?”

I jolted up. The day had been long, and I finally had time to myself in my hotel room. Until I didn’t. The break lasted all of ten minutes. Lucky for me, the team captain for the Romans called for information on our schedule for the fall semester.

Who needs a break anyway?

The clock on my laptop ticked closer to ten, and I resisted sighing into the phone.

“Yeah, sorry—distracted,” I said.

“Okay.” Ryan cleared his throat. “And then I press the share button?”

It turned out being one of the interns for the PR department of Marrs meant helping the technophobic team captain with his calendar. Go figure. I didn’t realize anyone on Planet Earth was still stuck in the steam engine era until I had to explain what a flash drive was to him.

“Ryan, I can just do this.”

“I don’t want to put more work on you,” he reassured me.

But you’re putting more work on me right now.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook my head. We had an early breakfast meeting, and I didn’t have time for this.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it,” I told him. He tried to argue, but I wasn’t interested in arguing. “Ryan, there’s—uh—Coach Lawson needs something.”

“This late?”

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