Page 51 of False Start
Within a few strides he’s standing in front of me, two dimples on each side of his full lips. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Check the sports channel.”
“Just tell me.”
“And ruin the surprise?” He leans his head back and laughs.
I inch to the side and take off running as soon as I clear him. Down the hall I go with a massive football player running after me. I skid on the floor in front of my bedroom door but manage to turn it just in time to get inside the room. Bryant and I make it around my bed and to my nightstand where my phone is located.
“What are you doing you big ass ogre?” I ask.
“Giving you a hard time.”
“Does Zina know?”
“Nope. It’s why I’m giving you a head’s up.”
I wrench my phone from his big, meaty paws and dive onto the bed. He dives after me and tickles me until I hand the phone over. “Enough. Okay! Just tell me already.”
“He’s trading to the Voodoo. Announcement will come next week. He’s laying low at my place with his son until the press release.”
“Why was this deal such a secret? Nobody has even predicted a trade for Ben.”
“Personal issues. Ben needed to be back home in New Orleans.”
“I’ll come by and check on him soon,” I say.
“Thank you. I know he’d really appreciate it.”
“You’re lying on top of me, and I can’t breathe. Can you get off me?”
“You always know just what to say to make a guy feel special,” he jokes, and then he scoots to the side but doesn’t stop peering down at me. “Hey, Coach?”
“Yeah, QB?”
“Please don’t give up on us yet. It’s not even half-time.”
“Are you calling an audible?”
“I’m saying false start, baby. We’ve been backed up five yards, but we’re still halfway down the field. It’s only second down, and we have plenty of time to move the ball.” Then he leans down and briefly kisses my lips. “I’m going to let you find rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
I walk him to the door and lock up before he’ll leave my front porch. As I’m nestling into my pillow, my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Bryant: Sweet dreams.
Zhanna: Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.
— 18 —
Then
I’M A SOUTHERN GIRL through and through, so when Bryant is drafted to the Los Angeles Spartans as the number one pick, we celebrate the fact that we’re not going somewhere cold. But when we land in the City of Angels, it doesn’t take long before I feel completely out of place.
“Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” the realtor says to me like I’m five, and then she flirts with my husband. “I heard you were tall.”
I glare at her dumb ass. “Six feet isshortin the league.” Read: Football players are tall, you dumb bitch. I mean if you’re going to flirt with another woman’s husband in front of her, then be smart about it.
Bryant squeezes my hand and tries not to laugh. “What do you think of the house, baby?”
I haven’t had time to look at the stupid mansion this heifer dragged us to, because I’ve been too busy keeping a close eye on her before she drags Bryant into a closet and assaults him. “I’ve seen better.”
