Page 29 of Most Likely to Score
“Anything with you is fun.” Then his tone turns more serious, more earnest. “And listen, Jillian . . .”
“Yes?”
“I really appreciate you wanting to work with me on this. I’m a lucky bastard to have someone like you helping me.”
I wink. “Wait till you get my bill.”
He flinches as if surprised by this news. “Yeah? So it’s a lot?”
I can’t resist a little payback. “Oh, Ford didn’t tell you how much I cost?”
“No, he didn’t mention it.”
I purse my lips as if he’s going to be shocked at the number. “You want to know? You think you can handle it?”
Parking his hands on his hips, he says, “I think I can handle it.” But I detect a few nerves still under his bravado, and they amuse me to no end.
I draw a deep breath as if this will be tough for him to stomach. Then, I borrow a page from his playbook, lean in a little closer, and whisper, “It’s free.”
He’s silent at first, then a smirk spreads across his face, and he shakes his head, amused. He slow claps. “Well played, Jillian. Well played, indeed.”
I toss my hair over my shoulder. “Why don’t we get out of town for the day?”
“Let’s do it,” he says, and touches my shoulder. “But I did mean it. Thank you.”
I smile, a huge, genuine grin. “You’re welcome.”
As he shuts the door to his home and locks it, my phone beeps. “My father is calling,” I tell Jones, then say, “Hi, Dad,” into the phone.
“Hey, sweet pea.”
“What’s going on? I’m heading up your way right now,” I say as I walk down the steps.
“You are?”
“Yes, I have a photo shoot with one of the players in St. Helena later this afternoon, and then another one inthe morning in Yountville, so I’ll be staying in Wine Country.”
“And you aren’t going to come by and visit? I’m devastated.”
“I just saw you last week for lunch. Sheesh, you’re demanding.”
“Can I help it if I like seeing my little girl?”
“Dad,” I chide as I reach the town car. “I’m not your little girl.”
Jones smirks and grabs the handle, opening the back door.Thank you, I mouth.
“You are, sweet pea, and always will be,” my dad says, as I settle into the black leather seat. “And for that, I suppose I’ll forgive you for not seeing me today.”
Buckling my seat belt, I laugh. “I’ll come up next weekend again. And when the season starts soon, you’re coming to all the home games.”
“Damn straight I am. I’m a Renegades fan for life.”
“That’s the only kind of football fan to be,” I say, and Jones winks at me, giving a thumbs-up as he buckles into the seat next to mine. “So what are you up to today?”
“I taught class this morning, and now I’m waiting for a new desk to be delivered. Do I know how to party or what?”
“A new desk is clearly the definition of a fiesta,” I say as the driver pulls away from the curb.
