Page 2 of Fumbled Beginning

Our team was young, and we were eager to prove ourselves with our new starting quarterback. But desire didn’t always result in a win. We were walking into the playoffs next week as the number two seed. San Diego was favored to win. Getting invited to the dance was just a start; these rookies would have to learn that lesson the hard way.

Rhett downed a shot of tequila and slammed the glass on the wood table. “Anyone else want to set Coach’s car on fire for putting us through hell this week. It felt like he was analyzing our every move on the field and acted like we didn’t have a chance to win the playoffs.”

He wasn’t lying. Every missed block, every dropped pass, every mistake was being picked apart and called out.

Mitch Morris, a starting defensive lineman, plucked a beer off the tray. “Stop being a pussy, Rhett.”

“Did you not see me puking my brains out in the locker room on Wednesday?” Rhett whined.

“Maybe next year you might want to tell Mommy not to send you home with so many Christmas cookies.” Morris smirked. “You’re not getting any younger, so your metabolism can’t handle all that junk.”

We all laughed at the same time Rhett threw up his middle finger. He was always sneaking shit into the locker room that our team’s dieticians would have a coronary over.

“You’re all just jealous because you can’t eat real food and still look like this.” The goofball lifted his shirt up, giving us a full view of his abs.

My eyes darted to the TVs over the bar to check the scores of the two NBA games being played. I shook my head and lifted my beer to my lips when I spotted Rylee Cross, my ex-teammate and best friend’s sister, occupying one of the stools.

Her black dress was so tight it caused the slit on the side to ride up her thigh. I would know that body anywhere, seeing all the attention I’d paid it over the years. The woman haunted or owned every one of my damn dreams, depending on how you looked at it.

Running a hand across my newly trimmed beard, I debated what to do. I could practically hear her brother’s voice in my ear, warning me to stay away from her. But she was right in my line of sight, looking tempting in ways that made me want to forget about every single rule and boundary I set for myself when it came to her.

Mav and I had been friends for years, which was why I’d pushed my attraction to his sister to the back of my mind. There was no way in hell he’d approve. Not that anything would come of it anyway. It was a complication I didn’t want or need.

Watching her from afar felt wrong, so I tore my eyes away and focused on a group of women sitting at a table nearby. I’d been so distracted and caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t spotted the guy dressed in a pair of khakis and a bright pink polo that looked like he just came from the country club after playing eighteen holes. My eyes squinted and then bounced between them. The douche was smiling. Rylee was not. She looked furious.

In an instant, I moved in that direction, keeping my eyes on her and the golfer the entire time. I shoved past a few people because I was a large guy, and it wasn’t easy to maneuver through a crowded bar without bumping into a shoulder or two.

When I got close enough, I could hear her chewing him out while he stared at her chest.

“You catfished me.” She raised her voice to the asshole who was still staring at her tits. Heaven help him if he didn’t remove his eyes in the next second.

“Does that mean you’re not DTF?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, down to fuck. My face might not be what you wanted, but my dick sure will be once you feel the size of it.” His chuckle was rough, and my blood pressure skyrocketed.

“Hey.” I slid up against her back, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay over here?”

Her head whipped to the side, and those big, brown eyes widened in surprise. I was close enough that her light floral perfume inched up my nose, making my head buzz with awareness. I gave myself a second to allow my eyes to roam over her face and make sure she was okay.

The preppy-dressed guy with slicked-back hair glanced up at me. “Yeah, man, we’re good.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Tiger Woods.”

He puffed his chest out like he was ready to take me on. “This is a private matter.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you there, pal.” I crossed my arms over my chest, making my biceps bulge against the fabric of my shirt. I had inches, pounds, and muscle on the man, so the guy had to be smart enough to know that a fight would end badly for him.

“I’m not sure how this is any of your business.” A bead of sweat started to edge its way down his temple. “This is between me and my date.”

I moved to stand in front of Rylee. The dude looked at her over my shoulder, and after the shitty day I had, my patience was already wearing thin. I widened my legs, doing my best to block her from his view. I was going to handle this, and it would be his choice if it were the hard or easy way.

“Your date is over,” I clipped.

“Is it now?” Rylee twisted in her seat and leaned her arm along the bar top; her tone was heavy with sarcasm. She didn’t seem too thrilled with me inserting myself into her business.

I was overstepping and out of line, but it was my duty as her brother’s best friend to look out for her.

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