Page 24 of Ruff and Tumble

“Well, itisbullshit,” he said, repeating the word much more clearly this time. He also patted the seat until Hailey lowered herself into it. “No offense, but I never went in for any of that hocus-pocus nonsense. Get her a beer, would you, Sam? Get her two. She’s going to need them.”

“One is fine, thanks,” Hailey managed.

“I know, but they’ve got me on a strict watch. You can pretend it’s yours, and I’ll sip when no one is looking.” Cole’s dad thumped his chest. “The ol’ ticker isn’t what it used to be.”

Since everyone in the room also overheardthat, Hailey wasn’t surprised to find just one bottle placed in her hands.

“Keep it out of his reach,” Sam said with a wink. Like the rest of the family, she was built on generous lines, her eyes that same preternatural blue. “He’s a liar and a thief, but we love him anyway.”

Hailey’s chest felt tight as she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank. She wasn’t a huge fan of beer—and she definitely wasn’t used to drinking at ten o’clock in the morning—but it seemed rude to refuse when everyone was being so nice. Besides, she felt the need for liquid courage. Especially when she turned toward the older man to ask the question that was burning on her lips.

“What hocus-pocus are you talking about?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual voice.

“Eh?” Cole’s dad asked before reaching up and adjusting his hearing aid. Everyone in the room jumped as the feedback screeched through the air. “What’s that?”

“You said you don’t go in forthat hocus-pocus nonsense,” she repeated. “You don’t mean the Kickoff Cup Curse, do you?”

From the gasp her use of the phrase elicited, Hailey realized her error almost at once. This was a room full of die-hard Lumberjack fans—Cole Bennett’s family, in fact. She couldn’t have picked a worse audience to say the name of the curse out loud to. His mother made the motion of a cross over her chest. Gertie Wegmore muttered something under her breath. And Sam’s wife, a slight woman whose chunky hair was worn in spikes colored in Lumberjacks teal, actually covered her ears in an attempt to keep the words at bay.

“I’m so sorry,” Hailey said, flushing with mortification. Just once, it would have been nice to be the kind of person who could think before she spoke, who had at least alittlebit of a verbal filter in place. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“As long as you break the darn thing, you can say whatever you want.” Sam laughed and pulled her wife’s hands down. “Do you really think you can do it?”

All heads in the room—even those belonging to Sam’s two young children and Mia—turned her way. Hailey blinked, dazed by the intensity of all the attention. She might have remained that way for quite some time, but she was starting to realize what was going on.

A hell of a story, Cole had told Jasmine that first day.Real human interest.He’d also admitted that he had an ulterior motive in asking for Hailey’s help and that her six-and-oh winning streak was part of it. All that footage of her “winning” at puppy football, throwing her into the pit of his family without warning…

Why on earth hadn’t she realized it before? This wasn’t about Cole wanting to do good in the world. He was going to ride her coattails in hopes of breaking the curse. He was making her responsible for the outcome of the most anticipated sporting event of the year.

Of all the sensations she could have felt in this moment—anger at being manipulated, annoyance at not seeing it earlier, fear of what Jasmine would say if she found out—one in particular stood out: relief.

At least now I know what he wants with me. At least now I know what I’m doing here.

“Cole tells us that you haven’t lost a single game since you started playing puppy football,” his mom prompted, smiling kindly. “You must have extraordinary luck.”

“Extraordinary luck,” Hailey echoed, her mouth dry. “Yes. Yes, that’s it. I was born with it.”

She didn’t know what compelled her to say such a thing, unless it was the entire room of strangers staring at her with hopeful expectancy.Extraordinary luckwas the last way anyone would describe her entrance into the world. She’d been born the usual way, she presumed, but someone had dropped her off at a fire station when she’d been eight months old, leaving no trace of her birth or origins. From there, she’d lived in a succession of foster homes and group facilities. None of them had been terrible, and she hadn’t been abused in any way that could be quantified, but her early years had been marked by a kind of indifference that was difficult to overcome. The places she’d lived had been full to capacity and struggling to do their best, accomplishing what they could with what little resources they had.

She’d gotten by. She’d survived. But she hadn’t been loved.

There was nothing extraordinary or lucky about that.

“Thank goodness!” Cole’s mom rushed over and grabbed Hailey’s face between her hands. She squeezed until Hailey’s lips were forced into a pucker, at which point she planted a loud smack on them. “What a doll you are for helping out like this. Cole never says so, but it gets him down, always coming so close only to lose at the last minute. Anything you need from us—anything at all—and it’s yours for the asking. Isn’t that right, Julian?”

Cole’s mom kicked a leg sideways, hitting the recliner with a thud. In addition to being a tall woman, she was a strong one, and Cole’s father grunted as his footrest came crashing down.

“Well, of course she can have anything she wants,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But that doesn’t make your woo-woo magic any more real.”

The entire family seemed as though they’d like to protest this remark, but Cole’s father was blissfully inured to their scathing looks.

“Oh, look. They’re getting ready to flip the coin,” he said as he pulled his footrest back up. “It’s going to be heads. I always guess it right. Tell her, Paula.”

Cole’s mom threw up her hands, obviously giving up on the other conversation. “It’s true,” she said. “He has a gift.”

“What he has is a selective memory,” Regina said in a laughing undervoice. “He also thinks he invented DVDs and wine bottles with screw caps. Don’t listen to a word he says.”

The sudden image of Cole’s face on the oversized television screen drew Hailey’s attention. It was a familiar sight in so many ways. She’d been seeing it for years—that dimple and those cheekbones, the way he seemed to ooze confidence as he led his team out onto the field—but it had never felt quite like this before.