Page 3 of Falling for the Quarterback
I meet his intense stare, follow his arm and hand to my window, and it finally hits me what he’s doing. His palm has writing on it. Scribble, really, from a black Sharpie.
You’re incredible. Promise to take my time. 945-555-1776
I leave the pistol in place and grab my phone instead. I click a picture, then drive away, flipping him off.
Chapter Two
JJ
Myheadisstillspinning after I leave the store. I grabbed some hooks to hang a few things for my mom, along with some glossy white paint to do touch-ups, and had the most surreal meet-cute. That sort of thing never happens to me, at least not organically. It’s always premeditated, so I end up not being able to trust the person.
I twist the bit of metal, putting some muscle behind it to get it to seat into the wall properly, and chuckle to myself picturing her feral expression when I put my hand on her window. The Sharpie was fresh enough that there’s a chance my number is still on her car window. I doubt she recognized me, if so, and she posts the number, then I’m definitely going to have to change it again. I swear, the fans pay to find out what my cell number is and end up giving it to a ton of people when they end up with the right digits. The calls are always relentless, non-stop harassment, so I change my number frequently and screen each caller I’m not familiar with.
“You should come over and pay me attention.” Fiona, my mom’s neighbor, winks as she says it. She’s lying next to the pool, book open and spread across her lap. She watches as I hang the plant, then move to screw in the next hook.
I offer her a smile in return, “Can’t. I’m working hard over here.”
“Mmhm,” She traces her stare from top to bottom, taking me in slowly. She’s making it more than clear she wants me naked anddoesn’t care she’s friends with my mother. If it were up to her, we’d be sans clothes while in the pool, right now, I’m sure.
I truly am flattered, and if I didn’t already have another woman on my mind, I might flirt a bit with Fi. I have a type, and hardware-store-chick, no, hardware-store-WOMAN, is exactly mine.
Older than me.
Knows what she wants.
Is up front, regardless of my star status.
Christ, she was sexy… and definitely not a chick, but allwoman.
“Oh, that looks great. Thanks, honey!” Mom smiles and takes a seat on the lounge next to Fiona. She hands her a drink with an umbrella in it, then relaxes back and sips from her glass.
“Hey, Mom, do you believe in fate?” I casually inquire as I step back to admire my handiwork and move to the next hook. I mean, I think I know her answer already since she reads fiction books like it’s her full-time job, but I still ask.
She raises an eyebrow as Fiona closes her book and sits up, intrigued. “Are we getting philosophical now? What’s on your mind?”
I lean against the deck, crossing my arms, appearing nonchalant as I continue, “I met this woman at the store today. She was...Different.Made me stop and think, you know?”
Mom listens intently, sipping her drink and nodding for me to go on.
“I can't seem to shake off our meeting, even if it was shorter than I’d have liked.”
“I think if it was meant to be, you’ll run into her again at some point. You know me and fairytales. Besides, you had your number scribbled across your palm, easy enough for me to read without my glasses, so no doubtshe didn’t miss it either.”
A chuckle escapes me at being called out. Rather than try to deny it, I nod and finish hanging the last hook. After, I join them by the pool on a lounge chair. The sun casts a warm glow over the backyard, creating a serene atmosphere. Fiona starts chatting about the upcoming neighborhood barbecue, but my mind keeps drifting back to the woman at the store.
Will she remember me? Does she even care? I shake my head, realizing how ridiculous I sound. It was a chance meeting, nothing more.
As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the backyard, I excuse myself from the gossiping women discussing the neighbor’s latest renovation disaster. I grab my phone, scrolling through my call log, and the thought crosses my mind of calling the big orange store and asking if I can have their security feed of myself. It’d have her in it, and it may be my link to figuring out who she is.
No, that’s crazy thinking. Right? Or, is it just a matter of my privacy and keeping my whereabouts to myself.
A beat later, I’m Googling the store number and asking to speak to the manager.
My cell rings as I’m climbing out of the pool. I grab it, hitting accept when my buddy and old college teammate’s name flashes across the screen. “What’s up, Owens?” I greet, toweling off my face and then move to my shoulders and finally my abs. It’s hot enoughoutside if I sit on the lounge chair for a few minutes, my legs will dry on their own.
“There’s a rumor going around you’re retiring.” He says as soon as I switch to speakerphone.
Leaning back on the lounger, I sigh and grab for my bottled water. “People like to talk,” I say as a noncommittal reply. Am I retiring? Who the hell knows. I haven’t made up my mind yet.
