Page 21 of Score to Settle
HARPER:There’s no way I’m going in that freezing lake!
JAKE:Does a sauna sound better?
HARPER:It does, but I’m a professional and I’m here to do a job, not hang out in saunas with you.
JAKE:A professional pain in my ass. Bring your swimsuit!
Stormhawks Park is a brand-new, state-of-the-art training facility a few miles south of the stadium. It has everything we need to be in peak condition, including three full-sized football fields and a huge weights room packed with free weights, cables, and machines. There’s also a cafeteria that serves healthy meals customized for each player’s nutritional needs. Funny though, I actually prefer practice at the stadium sometimes. There’s a buzz that comes from staring at the 70,000 empty seats I know will be packed come game day.
But this place gives us everything we need to train hard and be game ready, and the creature comforts don’t hurt either. Itmakes the long hours and physical toll worthwhile knowing we have a space like this to come back to. Especially now with a pool and sauna in the basement and Harper stepping toward me in a little red two-piece.
Damn!She looks good. Her body is all woman—toned, but with curves too. My eyes drag instantly to her pert breasts, barely contained inside the tiny triangles of red fabric. I realize I’m staring and drop my eyes, only for them to snag on the string tied in bows either side of the tiny red bottoms.
“Eyes up, Sullivan,” Harper says and my gaze shoots to her face.
“Can’t blame a man for looking when you’re wearing something like that.”
She rolls her eyes before turning to survey the empty pool. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be here? What if people find out?”
I fix her with a sly grin. “Not much of a rule-breaker are you, Cassidy?”
“No! And I don’t intend to start now, so if?—”
I chuckle and hold my hands up in defeat. “I’m joking. It’s fine to be here. It’s just luck there aren’t twenty of my teammates in here too.”
That’s not entirely true. I made sure to wait an hour after practice so any players using the pool, sauna, or ice baths would be long gone before bringing Harper down here. My teammates still don’t know about theSports Magazineprofile feature and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
It might not be breaking any rules bringing Harper to the pool, but I’m still not sure if it’s a good idea. Every conversation we have ends in sharp words or an argument, but she had my back yesterday when I was about to post a stupid rant on my socials. Even if she did do it in the most annoying way possible and confiscate my phone in the process. I’m still not happy she’s here, still pissed about her comment to Mia on the phone. Butthe fake story about me yesterday was a reminder of how much I’ve got to lose and how easily I could lose it. Which means I need to find a way to change Harper’s opinion of me. Not exactly easy, considering our rocky start. But I figure it wouldn’t kill me to be a bit more accommodating.
Harper steps to the edge of the pool and without a second of hesitation, she executes a perfect dive, disappearing beneath the surface with barely a splash before appearing a few feet away and cutting through the water effortlessly.
“You coming in?” she calls, and I grin before cannonballing into the pool, causing a burst of laughter from Harper. “Real smooth, Jake,” she taunts before throwing herself into her lengths.
For the next thirty minutes we swim in silence and I lose myself replaying the day. I didn’t expect it to go as well as it did, and I have to begrudgingly admit that’s down to Harper. Starting with being hauled into Coach Allen’s office this morning. Thanks to Harper being with me and talking to Coach, he believed me when I said there was no truth to the story from the bar that now has over five million views and counting.
The message from Coach was clear though—true or not, Stormhawks management doesn’t want any more bad press about me. I need to keep a low profile for the rest of the season. Fine by me. All I want is to get my team to the playoffs and make sure my contract is renewed, something that feels a lot more possible after how I trained today.
It was one of those sessions where the instinctual rhythm of the game felt like it lived in my bones. Effortlessly weaving between my teammates, like the turf was super-charged beneath my cleats. For the entire three hours of practice, I was acutely aware of Harper sitting in the indoor viewing platform. After every move I found myself turning to check if she was there watching.
By the end of the swim, we’re both breathless as we hit the sauna. It’s a fight not to stare at the water droplets glistening on Harper’s chest, rising and falling as she catches her breath. I close my eyes and rest my head against the warm wood. Only when the heat has wrapped itself around my muscles from the inside out do I open my eyes again and find Harper staring at me.
“My eyes are up here, Cassidy,” I say, my voice husky from the yelling during practice.
I know it’s hot in the wood cabin and sweat is covering our skin, but the way her cheeks redden is kind of cute.
“What did you think of your first practice?” I ask.
She hesitates, shifting on the bench so she’s leaning against the wall opposite, long legs stretching toward me. “It was impressive.”
I quirk an eyebrow. Something has been nagging at me since my first sit-down with Harper on Saturday. In the last three days, any time talk turns to football, she starts to fidget like she is now. Her answers to questions about the game are always vague. It’s almost like she doesn’t know the first thing about football. Then I remember what she said about her writing at college and how she faked confidence until it came.
She wouldn’t…
Nah!
I almost laugh off my suspicions. Harper works forSports Magazine. No way has she been faking knowledge of the NFL for the whole time she’s worked there. That would be next-level crazy. Still, no harm in testing the theory…
“Hey, by the way, Dylan interrupted you in the truck on Saturday. You were going to tell us if you think a team should punt if they’re in the fourth down.”
