Page 34 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

I still haven’t quite come to terms with this need to see Sam, which isn’t just physical. I mean, the physical is a part of it, I’ve been dying to touch her since that first glimpse in her office, and for a guy used to jumping straight to sex the slow pace is somewhat agonizing.

She’s crazy intelligent, thoughtful, and like a kid in a candy store when it comes to eating, so just being with her at all, sex or no sex, is fast becoming my favorite way to spend my time off the field.

I kiss the breath out of her the moment I open the door, which sends her into this cute little daze where she has to lean against me to stay upright. Until she smells dinner.

“What is that smell?” She closes her eyes as she inhales.

“Enchiladas.” I link her fingers with mine and pull her into the kitchen. “They’re one of Dani’s specialties, you’ll love them.”

I deposit her at one of the barstools and grab some plates, dishing us each a steaming helping. Sam’s gray eyes grow wide as I set a plate in front of her, and she leans forward to take another whiff as I pour her a glass of wine.

“What is in these?” She marvels.

“Uh, some sort of shredded beef. Probably some spices. I’ve never really asked,” I admit, feeling sort of guilty that I don’t know much about what Dani prepares except that it’s damn good.

“Mmm.” Sam moans deeply as the first bite hits her lips, an expression of pure bliss washing over her face, which leaves me with a sudden urge to skip dinner altogether in favor of seeing whether she’ll moan like that for me. Instead, I take a deep breath and focus on my plate.

“These are better than anything I’ve ever had in a restaurant. I can’t believe you get to eat like this every day,” she sighs longingly.

“I can’t believe you get so turned on by food.” I hope my grin is more amused than lecherous, but that moan gave my body ideas I’m having trouble ignoring.

“Food was never an experience growing up.” She blushes, focusing intently on her plate to avoid my eyes.

“Well, food happens to be one of my favorite things, too, which means I’ve got lots of places to show you when the season’s over and I don’t have to pay as much attention to my diet.” I take my own bite, the explosion of spices and cheese reminding me why this dish is one of my favorites.

“This is an acceptable football meal?” She regards me curiously as she takes another bite, making me wonder if it’s the meal or the fact that I mentioned seeing her months in the future that piqued her curiosity. I decide to focus on the question she asked instead of the one she didn’t.

“I get one cheat meal every week. It keeps the cravings down so it’s easier to be good the rest of the time.” I take another bite, barely registering the taste since I’m so focused on her.

“Are your healthy meals this good?” She reaches for her wine.

“You had one last week, what did you think?”

She pauses a moment, chewing her lip as if she’s weighing her answer. “It was good, but this is better.” She decides.

“Cheat meals usually are,” I grin. She smiles shyly.

“So, um, how was the film?” She sips her wine.

“We aren’t supposed to talk about work,” I remind her with a wink.

“It’s not work for me though. And it’s a part of you that I don’t totally understand.” She twirls her fork on her plate, casting a sideways look with those wide gray eyes.

“What do you want to know?” As much as I don’t want to talk about work, I’m happy to tell her anything that would help her to know me better.

“Well,” she starts, “what is film?”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. I take for granted that most people just understand what I do, and her question is a reminder not only that there are people who don’t follow the game, but that she’s genuinely interested in learning more about me, even if that means learning about a game she doesn’t care about.

“Film is short for game film. We watch our games to see what mistakes we made so we can correct them, and we watch our opponent’s games to see what their weaknesses are so we can exploit them.”

“Okay.” She nods absently, “but why now? I mean, you haven’t played a game yet this year, so what do you watch?” A cute little furrow forms on her brow.

“True, but we have film from other seasons, and you can spot patterns in the way people play if you look at their career.”

“I don’t get it.” She shakes her head.

“Think of tells in a card game, you know cards?” She nods so I continue. “Okay, well, maybe on the line of scrimmage a guy puts his right hand down if he’s planning to break right, and his left hand down if he’s planning to break left. Knowing that will help you anticipate which direction the play is going to go.” Any competent player wouldn’t have such an easily identifiable tell, but it’s the simplest example I can think of.

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