Page 21 of Quarterback Sneak

The mind might be willing but her flesh, especially her thighs, screamed in protest.

Fifty steps to go, each one a mountain to her tired legs, an epic struggle of mind against body. She’d had little sleep the night before and the exhaustion, coupled with the morning run sucked at her energy.

Another glance at Sam and her jaw dropped. He took the steps two at a time, each play of his thigh muscles exposed by his navy shorts bunching and retracting. She bit her lip and tried to match his stride, determined to keep up with him even if it killed her.

The last step nearly proved her downfall and it required every bit of self-control she possessed not to collapse onto the cement.

“That was fun. Much more adventurous than the elevator.”

“A. Blast.” Ivy managed to get out of tense jaw. The difference between their fitness levels sparked a touch of irritation within her, stinging her pride. “It’s so not fair. I’m certain my face is as red as a pomegranate and you’re barely winded.”

“I run stadium sprints on a daily basis and I have to say, you gave me a run for my money.”

“You took the stairs two at a time.” Ivy led the way up a small ramp to another flight of stairs and removed her hat.

He leaned in to kiss her. “So did you.”

“The last few.” She sidestepped to avoid the contact and raised her water bottle, unsure why she placed distance between them.

“I’m a professional athlete, it’s what I do. You are a chef, a talent way above my skillset.”

Ivy nodded, placated somewhat by his reminder. No matter what life threw at her, her confidence in her cooking had never wavered. One day she hoped to have the same connection with Sam. He’d proven himself a kind and sensitive man, but the doubts continued to plague her. Her fault, not his.

She rounded the ramp to the upper level and stepped onto a flooded brick walkway. Her shoes slid on something slick beneath the water and her feet flew out from under her. Cold water saturated her left side and she braced herself for the pain of the fall.

A powerful hand gripped her upper arm and wrenched her upright at the last instant.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Yes. What the hell happened?” Ivy’s drenched hair flopped into her face, the weight smothering her nose and mouth. She pulled the strands back and looked down at her front where filthy rivulets soaked half of her white jogging top. The material clung to her breasts, her nipple perfectly outlined by the cotton. Mortified, she snapped her head up and crossed her arms.

“It looks like a pipe broke.” Sam pointed to the construction crew gathered around the source of the flooding before he removed his hoodie.

She accepted the garment and slipped her arms in the sleeves. Cold water cascaded down her back, dripping into her underwear. Dirty, grimy water. Could things get any worse?

Two camera crews from competing news stations were set up on the other side of the street. Ivy’s stomach dropped.

Apparently, they could.

“Hey, it’s Knute.”

One of the construction workers pointed in their direction. The camera operators and reporters from both crews all looked to where the construction worker indicated. Surprise lit the face of the short, smartly dressed female reporter Ivy recognized from Channel 8 News.

Cassandra Smith rushed across the cobbled street. Not to be outdone, the equally smart dressed male reporter made to do the same.

Ivy turned to Sam and caught her reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. Her face showed bright red under a layer of dirt and her hair that had half-fallen out of her ponytail, curtesy of the spider, lay plastered against her neck.

Her first run-in with the press and she was a hot mess. She wanted to melt into the earth.

Sam turned his back to her, the bulk of his body blocking the oncoming reporters from her view. “Ivy, you should go. I’ll call you later, I promise.”

The construction worker who spied Sam slipped between them before she could protest. The man’s bulk pushed Ivy back while the rest of the people converged on Sam in their excitement. Shouts for his attention rang out in rapid-fire succession, each fan wanting to talk to their hero, to ask the questions utmost in their minds.

The chaos surrounding him was intimidating. Even with all the hoopla, she still wanted him in her life. Part of her was grateful to be forgotten but it insulted her pride to be dismissed so easily. Regardless of her feelings, a barrier stood between her and Sam, one greater than the people blocking him from view. They had a lot in common but were equally as different.

Had she made a mistake by agreeing to date him?

Chapter Nine

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