Page 28 of Their Greatest Strength

I’ll be keeping that one to myself when she gets here tonight.

“Thanks, buddy,” I say, giving him a smack on the back.

He slips his sneakers on and steps onto the porch, throwing me one last look. “Enjoy your plans tonight. Don’t stay up too late. Gotta be at the stadium early.”

“Game day. Yeah, I’ll make sure I’m tucked in early, Dad.”

“Good. We need to keep the momentum up. The last two wins have taken some of the pressure off, and I’m enjoying it. Coach didn’t chew my ear off last week, so I made it home before midnight.”

Two back-to-back wins isn’t usually much to celebrate. However, with any team as . . . weak as ours, we take what we can get and use it to grow the confidence of the newer players. The last time we were close to clinching a third win in a row, Jax threw a party at his place that grew wild enough to summon the cops. We were up into the early morning getting reamed out by Coach and lost our next game.

I’m going to take a shot in the dark and assume that’s why he hasn’t decided to do it again.

“I’ll do my best, QB. You know I’ve got you,” I remind him.

He tips his chin and knocks his knuckles on the doorframe. “Yeah, I know it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

With a backward wave, he cuts across my grass to where the flashy McLaren sits on the driveway like a trophy on the wrong shelf. The guy chooses to live in a shack in the mountains but drives a luxury sports car, whereas I’m the opposite.

He unlocks it and goes to open the driver’s door when he pauses. I hover in the entry and try to make out the figure strolling up past my driveway.

Jaxon doesn’t hide his staring, and once I see the flash of chestnut hair beneath a deep purple beanie, I lurch forward a step.

“Get in your car, Jaxon!” I holler.

His smirk is positively wicked when he looks at me while popping open his door. “See you tomorrow, Bateman!”

Blakely heads up my sidewalk at a slow pace with her head cocked, watching him leave. Only when he’s out of the driveway and speeding down the street does she look in my direction.

“A friend of yours?” she asks.

I’m too busy staring at her to reply.

I’ve never been one to wear beanies, but one look at her in one and you can consider me a big fan. Somehow, it fits her perfectly and highlights the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

In a pair of jeans and a thin coat bulging at the pockets from where she has her hands tucked away, she lingers at the bottom of the porch steps.

“A friend and a teammate. That was Jaxon Hayes, the Pythons’ quarterback,” I explain.

Only a slight glimmer of recognition sparks in her eyes. “Right. The name sounds familiar.”

“You’ll need football lessons if you agree to be my wife,” I tease, testing her reaction.

I need to know how hard it’s going to be to convince her, after all.

She swallows and leans past my bicep to see into the house. “Are you going to ask me to come in, or are we having this conversation on your front porch?”

“Shit, right. Come in. I promise I’m not usually a bad host.”

I move out of the way, and she passes me with a whole lot of confidence. While she slips out of her shoes, I close the door.

“Do you remember the way to the living room?”

She blinks up at me, unimpressed with the question. “No. I wasn’t exactly memorizing the layout of your house when I was here last.”

“Feel free to do that this time. You know, for when you move in.”

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