Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Anything?”
Coach rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re representing the Pioneers. Make her fall in love with the sport. Hell, offer her tickets to the next game. She can sit in the booth, or we can give her a field pass. Just sell yourself and the sport.”
“I can do that.” I make my way toward the sideline where Myles stands with Kelsey. In two seconds flat, I smile like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. She’s gorgeous and far too pretty to hang out with the likes of me.
Myles nods toward me and says, “Kelsey, this is Alex Moore. He’s our center.”
This poor woman looks utterly confused. I don’t give her time to think about whether she wants to shake my hand or not and reach for hers. It’s tiny, dainty. I’m a giant compared to her. I could easily fit two of her onto my chest and probably leave room for another half person. She’s the perfect little spoon.
I turn on the charm, or what I have left after Maggie took most of it, and say, “Hello, Ms. Sloane. I’m Alex and I’m going to give you the ins and outs of football. But first, I need to shower. Myles will keep you company and bring you to the locker room in thirty minutes.” I have no idea why I repeat my name, but I have and it’s out there. Before I leave her, I wink. The reaction I have confuses me. I’m not a flirt and have never been accused of being smooth, but apparently when you win a contest you didn’t enter to show a beautiful woman around and tell her about your job, all the charm comes through.
Thirty minutes later, and after the guys gave me shit about the pixie waiting for me, I step out into the hallway to find Myles and Kelsey chatting it up. There isn’t a doubt in my mind they’ll be best friends by the end of the day. Myles is easy to get along with.
“All right, I’ll leave you in the hands of Alex. It was nice meeting you, Kelsey. Email me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Myles.”
Her voice is like a sweet song I could listen to on repeat, and I find myself with an unfamiliar feeling I can’t explain. Nerves? Butterflies?
“Thank you for doing this,” she says, looking directly into my eyes. I tower over her and have to bend down or step back to really see her. Through all my dating years, I’ve dated blondes and brunettes, but Kelsey, with her jet-black hair resting just below her shoulders in soft waves, has my full attention. I’ve never seen someone with deep, rich, brown eyes, but she has them and they gleam.
This isn’t going to be a chore after all, but a blessing that I get to spend the rest of my afternoon with her.
“I’ll be honest. We drew papers from a box, and I got the one that said winner.”
She laughs and the cute squeak she makes goes right through every part of my body. “Lucky you.”
“Definitely, lucky me.”
The tour of the facility lasts an hour. She takes copious notes, asking me questions along the way. When we get out to the field, I detail everything. What the lines mean, the hash marks, etcetera, and then I get into the nuts and bolts of how the game’s played. From the coin toss, to kick off. What happens at halftime, and then the end of the game, and how we have press conferences. I tell her about injuries, and how every day, something hurts, and we usually ignore it unless it could lead to something serious.
“And what do you do?”
“I’m the center.” I take her out to the center of the field and have the equipment man bring out the dummies. “This is where I stand. My job is to hike the ball to Noah and then block the two guards—one on my right and the other on my left—from getting to him. He needs time to hand the ball off or throw it.”
“Do you ever fail?”
“Of course, I do. I’m human. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“And what happens if Noah gets tackled?”
“The quarterback gets sacked,” I tell her. “It’s still a tackle, because the defense tackled him to the ground, but it’s called a sack.”
“Oh, wow. This is confusing.”
“I’m sure it is. Might I suggest you come to a game? I can set you up with someone who can explain the game to you as it happens.”
Kelsey nods. “Yes, that might be a good idea. When do you play?”
I can’t help the laugh that builds. “Mostly on Sundays. But sometimes we play on Mondays or Thursdays, and in January we might play on Saturdays.”
“Why the switch in January?”
“Because college football is over in January and there’s broadcast space to fill.”