Page 66 of False Start

“Stop trying to flirt with me, Texas.” I bristled, protecting myself more than Trent.

“I’m not flirting with you, Kitten.” He grinned, leaning across the seat to swipe a granola bar from the gas station snack haul. Close enough to smell the musk of his cologne and feel his body heat. “You’ve worked hard. I know I’m not your first choice, but I’d hate for you to miss out on something that deserves to be celebrated. Let me celebrate with you.”

I rolled my eyes, huffing out a muted laugh. “Oh, I get it. You just want an excuse to party.”

A flicker of sadness stole over his face before he cleared it away with a wink. “You got me. How about it?”

I pursed my lips, pushing aside what I should say: Of course I don’t want you there. Of course I don’t want to go. And thought about what I actually wanted.

“You’re paying for dinner, right?”

“Sure thing.” He grinned. “We’ll go somewhere fancy.”

“You’ll probably be sick of me by then.”

“At least we’re good at sitting in silence together. I can’t do that with everyone, you know.”

My imagination failed me when I thought about being friendly with Trent anywhere else besides the rally. “Is that a fact?”

“You and Frankie.”

“Not even Derek?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Someday, probably.”

“What about your teammates?”

I’d barely asked about his job. Hell, I hadn’t even really considered it a job. He hadn’t “worked” since I met him. Other than his insistence that he was the best wide receiver in the country, I didn’t even ask questions about his day-to-day. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was like on the field, with his team.

“Absolutely not. I’m a source of non-stop chatter.”

“That sounds right.” I sipped my soda and then wedged the half-empty bottle between me and the seat. “What’s it like? Playing for the NFL?”

My curiosity prickled, and the wall between us broke down just a little. I waited for his answer.

“Like any other job, probably.”

“I doubt that.”

“Alright, maybe not like yours. I’m not saving lives or anything.”

I laughed. “I’m not saving lives.”

Trent’s lips tilted up, his green eyes sliding away from the road and onto me. “It’s fine. I’ve never had a normal job, so I’m not really sure how it compares. But I imagine a lot of things are the same: I have a boss, evaluations, more work than hours in the day.”

“You don’t seem like you have much work.”

“It’s my vacation, to make up for the fact I work on Christmas.”

“Working on Christmas sucks.”

I’d worked the past four Christmas days so my coworkers with kids and families and celebrations could enjoy the day. Of course, I wasn’t getting paid millions of dollars for it. But, for the time being, I let that complaint go.

“So you’ve really never had a normal job?” I asked.

Trent shook his head. “I shoveled driveways as a kid for cash. Once I hit college, I had enough in scholarships to get by. Then, I got drafted.”

“So, no desk job for you?”

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