Page 135 of Red Zone
“Great win tonight, Jaxon,” I say over the noise. “What do you credit for the team’s energy coming out so strong?”
He flashes that practiced, easy smile. “We’ve been preparing for this moment since summer camp. Everyone bought in. Everyone did their job. And now we’re one step closer to where we want to be.”
“Thanks,” I say with a small nod.
Beck is next, sweaty and grinning ear to ear, tossing his gloves to a kid in the front row.
“You played lights out tonight,” I tell him as he stops in front of me.
“Eh,” he says with a wink. “What can I say? Some of us were born for the playoffs.”
I roll my eyes but jot his quote down anyway before waving him on.
And then, of course, the last one to come off the field is Carter.
Helmet under his arm, hair damp with sweat, black eye paint smeared. He jogs toward me with that lopsided grin already tugging at his mouth.
“Harding,” he greets, voice low and warm, stopping just a little too close.
I adjust my mic, forcing my expression into something resembling neutral. “Hayes. Impressive game.”
“You noticed,” he says, his smirk deepening.
I clear my throat. “What was the key for you tonight? You seemed locked in from the very first drive.”
He leans in slightly, eyes glittering under the lights. “Just had a little extra motivation.”
I lift a brow, keeping my professional tone. “Care to elaborate on what that motivation was?”
Carter’s gaze holds mine, playful but steady. “Let’s just say there was someone on the sidelines tonight that I didn’t want to disappoint.”
My cheeks heat instantly, but I don’t drop my professional façade.
“Thanks for your time, Hayes,” I say coolly, lowering the mic and scribbling down his quote as he jogs past.
But the smile tugging at his lips as he glances back at me tells he knows exactly what he just did.
36
CARTER
The holidays are weird for me.
Always have been.
Driving through campus tonight, it feels like the whole world is strung up in lights—every tree trunk wrapped in little white bulbs, wreaths on every dorm door, carols playing through speakers by the quad.
And I like it.
I really do.
There’s something about it that makes me feel…I don’t know. Softer. Like the air is easier to breathe when it smells faintly like pine and sugar cookies.
I’ve got a soft spot for the Grinch too. Don’t ask me why. Probably something about a guy who thinks he doesn’t belong but still can’t help giving a damn anyway.
And yeah, I watch the Holiday Baking Championship. Every year. Even when the guys give me shit for knowing the difference between Italian and Swiss meringue.
It’s my guilty pleasure, all right?
