Page 18 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“I was listening,” he insists softly, his gaze so intense I feel it in my chest.

I’m completely off-balance under his stare, and it must show because he sits up straight and speaks to me without exaggerating the southern drawl I know he uses to disarm me.

“I can model this after other awareness campaigns and do some speaking events where I talk about how important education is to me, or I can take it further by establishing resources for education and career planning, sorta like take your kid to work day so students get to see real life examples of careers they might want to look at. And there will be a special focus on athletes, reminding them that even if they make it to a professional level an education will help ensure they can plan for life after sports. Depending on which direction I go I could spend as little as five hours a month to fifteen or twenty,” he recites the options back to me perfectly.

I’m speechless, until he leans forward and whispers, “Close your mouth, Samantha,” with a satisfied smirk.

“If you understand the options so well, why are you stalling with dinner?” I sputter.

“I’m not stalling. I honestly don’t know what to do.” He rests his forearms on the table and continues. “I know which would be most effective, but that probably also comes with more fundraising and a bigger time commitment from me. I’m not opposed to that, but I don’t have a handle yet on how much time the team needs from me. I need to see how quickly everyone picks up the playbook, figure out which guys need mentoring and how much time some of the other veterans have to help out.” His brow furrows a bit before he continues, “I don’t want to make promises about what I can balance before knowing what needs to be balanced.”

When Colt said he needed to understand what type of commitment building a charity would require, I thought that was an excuse meant to lower my expectations. A convenient way to back out if this was more work than he wanted to take on. I had no idea all the moving pieces he’d have to shuffle to add this project to his plate. Now that I understand, I feel guilty for assuming the worst.

“I’m sorry.” I feel my cheeks grow warm. “I shouldn’t have assumed this would be an easy decision.”

“It’s possible I’m making it more difficult than it needs to be. But I’ve made promises I didn’t keep before, and I don’t plan to make the same mistake again.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to elaborate, but that feels too personal. Besides, anyone who can admit they learned from their mistake, whatever that mistake may be, has my respect.

Colt signals for our check, and as we make our way out of the restaurant, I’m struck by the fact that this fun-loving playboy just might be a better person than I gave him credit for. And if his insides are in fact as attractive as his outside, I have a feeling my life is about to get much more complicated.

Colt

Well,thatdidn’tgoas planned.

I intended to sit politely while Samantha gave me her pitch, pretend to mull it over, and regretfully decline to do anything more than lend my name and my wallet to the cause since Shane’s impending fatherhood will force me to assume a bigger role on the team. But she lit up so beautifully when she was talking about her ideas, I couldn’t bring myself to say no and risk not seeing her again.

Not yet anyway.

At first, I didn’t understand this pull I felt toward her, but after tonight it makes a little more sense. Samantha has to be the least adventurous person I’ve ever met, a trait I usually find unattractive, yet underneath that poised outer shell there’s a ton of passion.

I see it clearly when she talks about her work, or food, though there are hints of it when I turn on the charm. Those hints seem to manifest in the most adorable blush, or a slight fidget in her seat, which tells me that she isn’t used to feeling passion for a person. I find that fascinating.

I also get a kick out of how she’s completely oblivious to my celebrity, as evidenced by the fact she actually thought I’d be denied entry to the steakhouse because of my clothes. I had to try real hard not to laugh at the panicked look on her face when she realized where we were going and how casual my outfit was, but the fact that she doesn’t think I deserve special treatment was probably the highlight of my evening.

It means that whatever her opinion of me is, it’s based on who I am as a person, not a ballplayer.

I never thought I’d crave that kind of reaction from someone, especially a woman I’d like to sleep with, but I kind of miss the authenticity of relationships I had before becoming famous. I'd like to get that back. With Samantha, if I can coax her out of her shell, I hope to find it.

***

I’m coming across the middle when I see Dante crumple from the corner of my eye. He’s supposed to be running up the sideline for a deep ball, leaving me as the second pass option if he doesn’t break coverage, but he barely makes it ten yards before dropping to the turf and reaching for his thigh.

Shit.

When your hand goes to your leg that fast it’s no mere stumble, and for a guy as tough as Dante, the fact that he hasn’t even tried to stand up speaks volumes.

The trainers are on him almost instantly, and while I’m tempted to get close and see what the issue is, I’d only be in the way. Instead, I congregate with Shane and some of the other receivers to see if anyone had eyes on Dante when he went down, and knew what might’ve caused it.

“He just dropped, man.” Shane paces back and forth. “One minute he was breaking for the end zone and the next he’s on the ground.”

“Any contact?” I ask, knowing that can be the difference between a mild and serious injury.

“No. I don’t think so.” Shane looks downfield toward the trainers who are huddled around Dante.

“Let’s take that as a good sign.” I slap him on the shoulder.

A few minutes later, Dante hobbles off the field, his arm slung around the shoulders of the two trainers next to him. He’s using them for support, but he isn’t hopping on one leg, so whatever happened, it’s not keeping him from putting any weight on his leg.

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