Page 13 of The Hot Shot
“And the diamond?” I nod toward the stylized diamond at the bottom of California.
“Freshman year, Coach told me I was a diamond in the rough. And if I ever made it to the pros, he’d consider me polished.” His lips quirk. “Got that added the day after I was drafted.”
“You love your job.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a cheeky look.
“What goes through your mind just before a play?” I ask, snapping in rapid fire.
“You want me to walk you through it?” He seems more than willing to tell me, but also curious, as if he can’t figure out if I really want to know or am just humoring him.
“No. I want you to picture the process.”
Silently, Finn drops his head. His eyes close. And my breath catches. Because he is stunning.
Stretched out on the floor, his intensity should be diminished, but it isn’t. His body remains tight, his muscles almost quivering, as if ready to spring into action. But his expression is a different story. A look of peace falls over him, his lips soft, almost parting, the clean line of his jaw relaxed, and his brow smooth.
He is utterly at home within his skin, within his mind. It’s as if I’m witnessing a man at prayer. A true believer.
I feel transformed right along with him. Pure and revitalized instead of simply going through the motions. Again, that feeling ofknowinghits me. Only this time it isn’t terrifying, but a warm balm that makes me aware of my own skin, of each breath I draw in and let out.
I almost forget to take the shot. But when I do, I know it will be the cover. A covetous part of me resents that, as if this moment is private, something Finn Mannus has allowed only me to see.
But then I remember myself. It’s just a job. And the job is now officially done.
Three
Finn
“I’ll tell you one thing,” Jake says after taking a long pull on his beer. “Baby oil is great for my skin. I should have slathered myself in it long before today.”
I laugh. “I was going to mention the way your face now resembles a baby’s butt.”
“This face,” he says, “is going to get me laid after I finish my beer.”
I shake my head and relax into the booth. “Good thing you rubbed baby oil on it, then.”
Personally, I hate the lingering feeling of the damn oil. I’d just as soon forget the whole day. Even as I have the thought, I know it’s a lie. Once the photoshoot got going, when it had been just Chess and me, it had been... I don’t even know how to explain it. Different. Unexpected.
For a small while, I’d stopped thinking about my job, about the various aches and pains plaguing my body, about the press, the team’s record, winning, losing. I’d stopped thinking about anything, really. Somehow, Chess had done what I’ve only been able to accomplish on the field; she got me to focus solely on the moment.
Now it’s over. My time with the combative Ms. Chester Copper is done. I’m used to people drifting in and out of myworld. I meet new faces almost on a daily basis. I shouldn’t feel any sense of loss.
I do, though. But why?
I’d blame it on attraction, but I’m attracted to women on a daily basis, too. I’ve learned to let it go and get on with my life. Truth is, I’ve felt off and alone since the thing with Britt. Which is something I really don’t want to think about. Ever.
I’m frowning when the waitress sets a heaping platter of smoked oysters on the table. “Here you boys go.” She adds a basket of hush puppies and another basket of fried shrimp to the mix. “Can I get y’all anything else?”
Her smile is wide and accommodating. It pisses me off that I instantly wonder if she’s flirting, that I’ve trained myself to immediately second-guess everyone’s motives.
“We’re good,” I tell the woman.
Her smile fades a bit then comes back brighter. “Well, holler if you need me. For anything at all.”
Jake tucks into the food, as she walks away.
“Was she flirting?” I ask him, as soon as she’s out of hearing range.
