Page 71 of Delay of Game
“Fine. Good, even. We came together on the idea of doing the ropes course pretty fast and left the rookie with a decent sized bill. Food wasn’t bad either.”
I snagged on “the rookie.” “Wait, you what? Who?”
“Not important. He took a cheap tackle on me during pre-season and somehow still got on the team. I sure as hell wasn’t paying for dinner, so I set him up with the tab.”
I raked a hand over my face. “Seriously, Rob?”
“Seriously, Astrid.” His voice lightened into teasing. “He owed me. Still owes me, actually. But trust me, he got off easy. Noa and Diego wouldn’t let anyone order anything too outrageous.”
“What’s too outrageous for an NFL rookie?”
“Ten grand. I think the bill came in around five.”
My stomach tumbled at the amount. “That’s ten months of student loan payments.”
“He’s not a teacher. He’s on the roster. It’s a small fraction of what he would have owed me if he’d sent me to the injury report this season.”
“That’s awful.”
“He’s awful. Don’t feel sorry for him. You don’t even know him. Feel sorry for me.”
I laughed. “Poor Rob Grant, with his starting position in the NFL, a loving family, and a beautiful home. It’s a real struggle for you, isn’t it?”
“Not only did I have to sit next to the guy who tried to take my position, but I’m leading the defense in an art project before we go to the ropes course.”
“A art project? Doing what?”
“Making beer steins.”
I barked out a laugh. “Beer steins? Really?”
“I offered to brew beer, but special teams took that job first. Noa told the other captains about my pottery studio.”
“Traitor.”
“He is, isn’t he? Now these assholes are gonna know that I have a pottery studio.”
“Is that really so bad? Everyone on your team knowing a little more about you?”
“They know more than enough. Hell, every football fan knows more than enough.”
The wine loosened my inhibitions enough to consider asking the question, but I held it back. “You’ve been pretty tight-lipped in recent years. Maybe it’s time to let your teammates in.”
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening but I pressed on. “A little bit. Like, a stein-ful.”
He huffed on the other end of the line, and I half-expected him to say goodnight.
“How about a half a stein-ful?”
“I think that’s a start.” I smiled as he softly exhaled. The faint rustle of clothing transported me into the car next to him as he raked a hand down his face, head tilting with a faint smile. “Are you still driving?”
“I’m parked outside the house.”
“I should let you go then,” I said, not at all ready to hang up. Disappointed I hadn’t convinced him to come over.
“Mila’s already asleep. Mom, too, by the looks of it. There’s no reason to hurry inside. How was your day?”
I fought back a smile. “It was fine. I ate my whole lunch uninterrupted by kids, and Aunt Mercy remembered who I was when I stopped by.”
