Page 1 of Stalked By the Recruiter

PROLOGUE

ANDRES MONTOYA

“Twenty max.One minute more, and I swear to god, Andres, I’m heading to my car. I don’t care if you're mid-sentence. We clear?” Red Bridges, the assistant coach to the U of D’s football team, sternly pointed at me, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Who the hell did this fucker think he was?

“Crystal.” I shook my head.

We walked into the locker room and straight to Red’s office, where I sat straight glaring at the space. Space I had willingly given up. Ryan Goodwin, the head coach, had changed offices, and Bridges had the one I used to call mine. I glanced around feeling a little uncomfortable.

“We could have gone to coffee,” I muttered, but Bridges didn’t give a shit.

“That would have only given you five minutes to talk considering it takes fifteen to get there and find parking,” he clarified, and I sighed. “Here.” He stood and grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge off to the side, handing me one before he popped his own open and settled into his chair. “Better?”

“Why are you so snippy? I don’t remember you being this cranky,” I noted.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, obviously avoiding any kind of small talk. I stared at him for a moment, and my lips twitched before I looked toward the ceiling.

“Jesus Christ, not you, too! What the hell is in the water here?” I groaned.

“Montoya, the clock is?—"

“At first, I thought it was a young guys' game, you know,” I started to say. “Montgomery. Green. Hell, even Castro with my sister.” I grimaced. “Then Goodwin, and now you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, and my stomach lurched. I didn’t work for the school anymore, but I was loyal to the school where I’d become who I was. It sure as fuck didn’t need any more scandals.

“You’re in love,” I pointed out. “Who is it? Please don’t tell me it’s another cheerleader like Goodwin.”

“Montoya,” Red warned.

“I’m just saying, the school can only hide away so many scandals.” I held my arms up in innocence.

“For a guy working for a pro team, you’re here a fucking lot,” Bridges gritted through his teeth. “Now, I’m not going to ask again. What can I do for you?”

“Is it a cheerleader?” I leaned in closer. “Or maybe one of the trainers?”

“No,” he clipped. “You don’t know her.”

“Please tell me she’s legal.” I groaned.

“Jesus, what the hell is your problem, Andres?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you! And no, she’s not a student. She’s my age. Jesus.”

“Well, I bet the Dean will love that.” I laughed.

“Now that we’re done gossiping, maybe we can save the hair braiding for next time, and you tell me what the hell you want,” Red demanded. “I have shit to do, and the clock is ticking.”

“I like your linebacker. My team is looking for someone?—"

“No.” He shook his head. “You cannot talk to Dominguez.”

“Well, I mean I could talk to him but?—"

“Dominguez is pre-med, Montoya,” Bridges shared. As if I didn’t already know that. The kid actually had ambitions beyond going pro, and fuck me, it was screwing up my recruitment plans.

“I know. It’s why I would like for our team to talk to him.”

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