Page 4 of The Run Option

I tilt my head to the side. “Are you jealous, Willow?”

Her eyes widen. “Absolutely not.” She starts to walk past me, heading toward her office. The documentary crew filming the team’s road to the playoffs is waiting to interview me, but I have time for this.

“Are you sure? You seem a little jealous.”

She huffs in exasperation. “I’mnotjealous. I just don’t want Bianca quitting when you break her heart.”

I frown. “I wasn’t flirting with her, but who says I’d break her heart?”

“Every girl you’ve ever dated, Casanova.”

Nicknames are usually a good sign in a relationship, but that one feels more like a thinly veiled insult.

“Maybe they brokemyheart,” I say.

She rolls her eyes again. “Go get ready for the game. I have work to do.”

“Is that why you don’t like me? Because I’ve been on a few dates?”

She stops walking and glares at me. “I have a whole host of reasons why I don’t like you, but yes, your disregard for women’s emotions is on the list.”

My eyebrows draw together. I’ve been known to date around, sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever truly hurt someone. At least not on purpose.

“Is that what you really think?”

Another intern–Cody, I think–walks over to us, a tablet in the crook of his arm.

Willow sighs. “I don’t have time for this. I need to prep for the game.”

I want to press her, but it’s clear now is not the time. Instead, I nod and turn away. She immediately starts talking to Cody as if my presence doesn’t matter to her at all. I wish it didn’t bother me so much. I’ve been trying to solve the mystery of her dislike for some time. Now the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place, and I don’t think I like the picture.

“We’ve got this game in the bag,” Calvin, one of the wide receivers on the team, says on my left as we stand on the sideline. There are two minutes left in the fourth quarter. Our defense is on the field, and if they can keep the Hounds from scoring, we win.

“If we can keep them out of the end zone for one more play,” I reply.

A flash of long dark hair draws my attention. Willow is nearby, her phone strapped to some kind of equipment that keeps it steady even as she walks. She must be capturing some highlights. I wonder if she got any of me when I threw a sixty-yard pass for a touchdown earlier.

Movement on the field jerks my attention back to our defensive line. Their quarterback launches the ball in a last-ditch effort to score. One of our cornerbacks, Jamal, intercepts it, then immediately drops to one knee, ending the play and securing our win.

“Yes!” I pump my fist. Calvin smacks my back and whoops.

Our undefeated streak remains. My face breaks out into a grin as I jog onto the field with my team. A reporter runs up to me, beginning the onslaught of interviews. The documentary crew trails behind me. It’s going to be a long night, but I don’t even care because this was a huge win.

“The Hounds are a great team,” I tell one reporter. “I’m proud of my team for finishing strong and securing the victory.”

After a whirlwind of on-field questions and celebratory cheers with my teammates, I’m guided to the press room for a more extensive interview. On my way through the tunnel I spot Willow, her back against the wall and phone positioned to film the team as we walk back in. I wink at her as I pass. She rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips. I know she’s happy about the win too. No matter how she feels about me, she loves the team. It’s one of my favorite things about her.

I wish I could quell her animosity toward me. I think if I did, we’d be good friends. Maybe even something more…But for now, I’ll settle for post-game smiles and quietthank-yousafter she finds her candy.

Chapter three

Willow Delmont

“Who’s there? I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it!” my grandmother yells as I enter through her front door.

I sigh. “It’s Willow, Granny!” I call out. “You can put away your shotgun.”

I set my purse on the oak table by the door. Coming into this house always feels like stepping into the past. It’s as if I’m a little girl again, sliding off my shoes by the door so I don’t get scolded. It became such a habit that, even now that I’m older, I not only take off my shoes at her home but at my own place too.

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