Page 12 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

I bury my face in my palms to hide the fact I’mactuallysmiling. Delaney may be a pain in the ass, but I love her.

Colt

Ilovetrainingcamp.Not just the sights and sounds, and even some of the smells, but the whole vibe. The entire season is in front of us, and the sky’s the limit. Everyone is pumped. Sure, coach is about to kick our asses, but when it’s for a shot at something as epic as the Super Bowl, well, you don’t see a lot of guys complaining.

“What up, man?” Dante, our star receiver, slaps me on the back as he passes on the way to his locker.

“Hey, ready for another six to eight months of Arnicare and ice baths?” Few positions get as beat up as receivers do throughout the season, and Arnicare and ice baths are staples for a swift recovery after a brutal game.

“You’re the ol’ man.” He gives me a once over and shakes his head.

“You’re not young either.”

“Speaking of.” He leans toward me and lowers his voice so some of the others trickling into the locker room can’t hear him. “This is our year, man, but eight months is a lotta wear and tear. We’re gonna need some of these young guys to step up and help us get to the finish.”

I know what he’s saying. Eight months is a long time to stay healthy and to make it that long we may need the younger guys to give us a break here and there, so we last for all eight. A few years ago, I’d have gotten pissed at the suggestion that I might need more breaks, but for the good of the team, I have to think about the whole season and listen to my body if it needs a rest.

“I hear you. We’ll get the rookies ready.” I give Dante a fist bump.

Working with the new guys is critical to get them up to speed, and that’s normally a role I welcome. Yesterday morning I was ready for that. Today, not so much. All because of some prim and proper brunette I’m trying to impress. Something about that woman got under my skin, and the truly fucked up thing is I want to find out what.

Best I can figure, I had such a strong reaction to her because she had one to me. It was clear as day I overwhelmed her, and while that’s not exactly rare, to do it in a woman so unmistakably indifferent to my career and my celebrity is virtually unheard of.

I don’t meet many people who aren’t dazzled by the fact that I’m a pro athlete, but Sam didn’t mention my job once, except to question how it makes me qualified to be a coach or a commentator. She didn’t ask anything about the team, gush over our Super Bowl chances. Hell, she didn’t even ask what position I play. Does that mean she was affected by Colt the man, not Colt the player?

Until now, there’s only been one woman in my life to see the man first and the player second, and I was too young and immature to realize how important that is. I fucked it up, and while it worked out for the best in the end, I now realize how rare a thing it is to be seen for me. It’s not something to take lightly.

So, I’m going to do what my head is screaming at me to avoid. I’m going to hear Samantha out. I’m going to listen to what she wants me to do, and I’m going to seriously consider it. Right after practice.

“Even the kid breathing down your neck? You’re gonna help him?” Dante tries to bait me by bringing up the tight end we drafted, but it won’t work since I’m not the glory hound he is.

“Teaching him what I know means defenses will be hard-pressed to cover us both.”

“It also threatens to cut into your receptions. Don’t you want the record for most catches by a tight end?”

“I already have that record.” I jerk my head toward the marquee on the far wall where dozens of team records are displayed. My name is right there if he wants confirmation.

“You have that record for the Stallions, not across the NFL.”

“I’d take a second ring over a league record.” I go back to putting my toiletries in my locker. Shampoo, deodorant, foot powder, even a toothbrush, and toothpaste, because mouth guards are the opposite of breath mints, and I tend to believe reporters view you a little more favorably if you don’t knock them over with your breath.

When I’m done, I sit on the bench and take everything in. The energy, the sight of pristine helmets lined up along the wall, even the scent of freshly washed towels with an undertone of cedar from the lockers. It makes me feel like coming home after an extended trip. It won’t always smell like this. Sweaty bodies and damp gear will be added to the mix, but I’ve never complained about that because it’s a symbol of how hard we’re willing to work. How badly we want to win.

I exhale, a big goofy grin on my face when our quarterback Shane finally makes his appearance.

“You told him?” Shane accuses Dante.

“Told me what?” I frown at the same time Dante says, “Hell, I did?”

“What’s the smile for, then?” Shane crosses his arms.

“For being back in the locker room. What else would it be for?” I stand up and cross my arms to mirror him, assuming there’s some sort of inside joke I’m not in on.

I’m not expecting it when Shane thrusts a fuzzy picture in my face.

“For real?” I raise my eyebrows in awe.

Shane’s a bit goofy, so when it comes to anything other than football it’s hard to tell when he’s being serious. But the love struck smile on his face tells me this is not one of his jokes. “Elliot’s pregnant?”

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