Page 111 of Not Just a Trick Play

Did she want the inn that much? Her interest in it always seemed lukewarm, at best. But when I offered her a way to stay in New York, an apartment. An investment. Myself. She turned it all down.

There’s movement next to me, followed by the unmistakable clink of crystal on marble. A familiar vintage Patek Philippe edges into view.

Bossman.

Noah slides onto the empty stool to my left. All that business savvy and he doesn’t understand to leave a guy alone when he’s wallowing.

“Still kicking yourself about losing the game?” he asks.

I grunt.

“Don’t know what you have to be upset about. I’m the one who bet Zach I’d wear a Sabretooth shirt if you lost.”

I stare blindly ahead. “There are worse things than losing.”

“Are there?” Fingertips piano on a glass. “This is about Amelia.”

Amelia. Yep. Her. Turns out while I was busy doodling our names in a heart, she was planning her great escape. I know I cannonballed into this relationship. But I thought we’d landed on the same page. What a fucking mindfuck.

I shrug.

“I hear her tours aren’t doing so well.” He swirls his glass. The ice clinks.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised he knows all about it. Everyone else in the world does.

“Yep.” I finally turn his way, but keep my expression neutral.

“We can always rehire her, you know? Doesn’t have to be with the Titans. Especially since I’m thinking of unloading you guys, cut my losses. An added bonus: I’ll be rid of my star running back turned Mr. Grumpy Ass.”

He flashes me a sharky grin. “But don’t worry. There’s plenty of other work at Winters Inc. Maybe Amelia will be more into hockey.”

Fuck neutral. I glare.

Noah leisurely sips from his glass, sets it down with a quiet click. “They’re a sharper group than you jackasses, that’s for sure. Not one of them has gotten themselves handcuffed to a bedpost. Yet.”

And then he adds, “I know this because your friend, Stella, made another appearance. Attempted to break into the goalie’s hotel room. Instead of agreeing to get himself shackled, he did the smarter thing and called the cops on her.”

Bloodthirsty relish colors his tone. “She did us a favor, actually. We’re definitely getting her for revenge porn, but catching her in the act of breaking and entering just makes our case stronger. Trust me, we won’t be hearing from her again.”

“Probably should have done that.”

I just grunt and swivel back to the bar. Talking is overrated.

But being handcuffed by Stella’s what led me to Amelia. Or Amelia to me. I remember her face the first time she saw me. Her initial look of terror that blossomed into bravery (or foolhardiness) when she climbed on top of me to free me. It’s like she imprinted on me.

And then fate helped us along when I ran into her at my mom’s. Seeing my family fall for her. Teaching her about football. Constantly trying to figure out what would get her riled up, or what would make her smile.

The candy. So much candy. All about sweets. Drunkenly dancing at Halloween. The kiss under the mistletoe. The evenings in, camped out in front of the TV watchingSurvivor. I’m not an idiot. I knew she wasn’t that into it, but it was nice. Not having to go out. Just her and me in our little bubble, perfectly content.

In the stillness of those moments, the effortless connection between us made it seem like we’d stumbled across something truly one-of-a-kind.

And the sex? Earth-shattering.

Everything before her? A warm up.

I wanted to know her inside out, memorize each word and action and moan and sigh, as if I’d discovered my favorite subject and could spend forever studying it. Being with Amelia was like nailing the perfect play every time, and I was on a winning streak I never wished would end.

But beyond the physical, it is the intangible moments that stick—laughing until we couldn’t breathe, watching her dreams take shape, and help to make them come to life.

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