Page 10 of Score to Settle
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replies.
For a moment it seems like Jake might say more, but then the scowl is back and he’s scooping up his bag. “We should get back,” he says.
“You want breakfast first?” I ask.
The first hint of a smile twitches on his lips. “You brought food?”
I take the pack from him and unclip the top, pulling out the two wrapped sandwiches I made with Mama last night.
“You didn’t? Looks like you’ll be going hungry then.” I smirk and take a bite.
He huffs, swiping the second sandwich from my hands. “Thanks.”
Jake takes a big bite, his jaw working, before he swallows and looks at me, a glint in his eye I don’t like the look of. “Not bad, sweetheart.”
“Wow, a compliment from the great Jake Sullivan. I’m truly honored.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to add sandwich-making to my résumé under special skills.”
He barks a laugh, more surprise than humor, the sound echoing across the canyon. “You do that. Right under pain in the ass.” The way he grumbles the reply leaves me in no doubt he means it. For a man who wants to prove he’s a decent guy at heart, he’s not exactly trying hard to convince me. No doubt he thinks I’m the type to fall for his good looks and write a drooling, fluffy feature on how great he is.
Think again, Jake Sullivan!
“Funny, I was going to say the same about you,” I say, matching his tone. I take another bite of my sandwich, savoring the crisp lettuce and salty bacon, stopping myself saying anything more.
Buck looks up at me, his brown eyes wide and pleading. I sigh and give him the last bite before tucking the wrapper away.
After we’ve eaten, we set off down the trail, walking in frosty silence again. By the time we’re back at the ranch, the sun has inched over the horizon, and despite it being November, I can feel the hint of warmth on my skin. I need a shower and my hair straightener. The air here is seriously bad for my kinks. And then I need coffee and to pin Jake down to answer a few questions. So far all I have to send to Tim next week is cheap perfume, toddler tantrums, and pages of me ranting about what kind of person Jake really is…
It’s late afternoon by the time I find Jake in the kitchen. He’s showered and he’s wearing jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off some impressive arm muscles. I catch him giving my simple white tee and stone-washed jeans an appraising glance before he eyes the laptop tucked under my arm and makes a face.
I reply with a bright smile, pushing aside any hope of asking him some background questions and choosing a different tack. “I thought we could look at your schedule over the coming weeks. I’ll need to book flights and hotels for your away games and it would be good to find some times for us to hang out that isn’t just me trailing behind you.”
Jake replies with his usual scowl but drops onto the bench at the table, staring at the back door like he’s willing someone to charge through it and rescue him. I sit opposite and open my laptop to the Denver Stormhawks schedule. “So there are games every week on Thursdays and Sundays between now and the start of January, when it becomes about the finals and then the Super Bowl. Starting on Thursday with the Thanksgiving game against LA?—”
“Playoffs,” Jake cuts in.
I frown, pushing my hair behind my ears. “Sorry?”
Another eyeroll. “They’re not called finals, they’re called playoffs. At the end of the season, the division winners from each conference—the AFC and NFC—make the playoffs, along with three wild-card teams from each conference. Please tell me you know the NFL is split into two conferences: the American Football Conference and the National Football Conference? That each has sixteen teams, divided into four divisions—North, South, East, and West. The Denver Stormhawks are in the AFC West, along with Chase’s team—the Kansas City Trailblazers—plus the Las Vegas Desertraptors and the LA Wildhorns. Each season, teams play games within their division as well as against teams in other divisions from their conference.
“When the playoffs start, it’s elimination games. Division winners and wild-card teams face off, and the last two teams standing meet in the Super Bowl. That’s the biggest game of the year. For the Stormhawks to make the playoffs for the first time in four years, we need to win the AFC West. But you already know all that, right?”
“Right.” I nod, hoping my cheeks aren’t burning as I pull my laptop closer and duck my head, typing a string of nonsense just to look busy. “Playoffs. That’s what I meant.”
He frowns and moves to the side so he can see my face. “You do know about the NFL, don’t you?”
I laugh and give an outraged, “Yes.”
“Good. Because a sports journalist who didn’t know anything about the game writing a profile on a tight end would be pretty stupid.”
Fuuuuuck!I grit my teeth and cringe inwardly at how accurate Jake’s comment is. What was it Mia said about tight end positions? They’re a do-it-all player, whatever that means.
“Don’t worry. I know the game.”I force a light laugh before steering the conversation back to our plans. “So on Thursday we travel to Los Angeles for the Thanksgiving game against the LA Wildhorns,” I say.
He nods. “We stay over and we’ll fly back on Friday. And before that, I’ll be at practice at Stormhawks Park, our training facility, or at the stadium with the team most days. We usually get a rest day after games, but that’s it.”
We go back and forth on the schedule and I make notes on what flights and hotels I need for the two away games the Stormhawks are playing during our five weeks together.
I make him give me his number so we can arrange places to meet after practice. And even though it’s kind of dumb and I hate myself for it, there’s still a tiny part of me that can’t believe I’ve got Jake Sullivan’s digits in my phone. I can imagine Mia’s squeal of delight when I call her later.
