Page 35 of A Slice of Love

Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t living off cheap noodles or anything and Thea and I always had everything we needed, but we didn’t do family vacations. Our Christmas presents weren’t lavish. I didn’t get a brand-new car for my birthday.

I worked for everything I had, especially football, because contrary to popular belief, the game didn’t come naturally to me. In fact, when I first started playing, I hated it. I didn’t like tackling—my small build wasn’t built for the impact. I didn’t like running—my asthma made it difficult. And I really hated all the sweating—nobody likes taking that many showers a day.

No matter how much I hated it, I had to play. My mother used to send us to every free camp she could sign us up for over the summers. She couldn’t afford to lose the hours at the shop keeping us entertained at home.

It wasn’t until the third summer of camp that I truly found my niche in the game.

It took three summers and two different coaches, but I finally found one who let me try out for quarterback. Even though I sucked at tackling, hated running, and didn’t want to sweat…I could throw a ball like no other.

But just because I can throw, that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work on all those other parts.

I had to bulk up and keep up with my weightlifting routine without gaining too much mass. Running became something I did daily so I could make my lungs stronger. And the sweating…yeah, I still fucking hate that part.

All the hard work I put into improving myself and my game paid off big with a full-ride football scholarship. I brought in hundreds of fans and dozens of football scouts, benefitting not just me but the whole team.

I put in the blood, the tears, and I sure as shit put in the sweat.

I’m good at the game, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard at excelling.

I just wish these jackasses would see that.

The front door is pulled open and Julian waltzes in.

My breath quickens, because I know Frankie will be right behind him.

She steps into the light pouring inside, and it’s as if the rays are illuminating her like a halo. Her head is thrown back in laughter at something Julian’s said, and I miss seeing her smile like that.

I miss making her smile like that.

I lean around the booth, letting my eyes trail down her body.

Her red hair is wavier than it was the other day, and it reminds me of the old Frankie for a moment. She’s wearing a shirt that reminds of something a pirate would wear, the sleeves big and flowy. It’s hanging off her shoulders, and one of those lacy bra things that are all the rage peeks out from underneath.

My favorite part, though, are the high-waisted Daisy Dukes she’s sporting, making her short legs look miles long…and her ass perfect.

She’s stunning, and I’m kicking myself for missing her these last four years.

If I’d had my way, Frankie and I would have spent every free moment we had in college together. That was my plan. Once we got away from all the hoopla of small-town gossip, I wanted to officially make her mine.

I never got my chance.

The guys notice I’m distracted and move their gazes her way.

I’m instantly annoyed by the hunger I see in them.

“Damn.” Drake whistles lowly. “Who’s that fox?”

“That, my friends, is Frankie Callahan,” Wilson tells everyone. “I ran into her last week at the Grab ’N’ Grocery. She got real fuckable over the years.”

I can practically hear him salivating, and I barely hold back my urge to punch him right in his face.

Drake pipes up next. “You ain’t kidding. I’d bend her over in a heartbeat.”

My blood boils, and I’m about two seconds from jumping across the table and choking the crap out of each of them when Frankie turns my way, the corners of her lips tilting up ever so slightly when she sees me.

My world tilts.

It’s subtle, but I feel the shift.

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