Page 56 of Scored

After disconnecting the call, I turned off the lights in my office and walked toward the living room. Fin was stretched out on the sofa, his tablet lying face down on his chest. His air pods were in his ears, yet by the evenness of his breathing and the way his right arm was flung over his eyes, I believed he was sound asleep.

Today was his first practice in ten days, not to mention the strengthening exercises with the trainers. I understood how tired he could be.

Gently, I lifted the tablet and hit the power button.

“Hey, you,” I whispered as I brought my lips to his.

The next thing I knew, Fin had me pinned to his chest with his right arm. My giggles filled the air.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he said before kissing my forehead and loosening his grip.

I pushed up to see his face. “You were just resting your eyes?”

He nodded. “My eyes were tired. Not me.”

“Let’s go to bed.” I stood and reached for his right hand. “Come on. You worked hard at practice today.”

Fin stood and stretched before taking my hand. We walked toward the bedroom. “It’s the Bills’ defense. I’ve played them before and years ago it was different, more traditional. Now, they have a new defensive coordinator. He’s changed things up. It reminds me of Atlanta’s defense—more aggressive and attacking. I wasn’t seeing the similarities at first, but now I am.”

“You played for Atlanta for four years.” I stepped into the closet and began to disrobe. “Does that give you insight?”

Fin was standing at the vanity brushing his teeth. “I think it might. It isn’t exactly like Atlanta’s, kind of a hybrid. I’ll talk to Pratt tomorrow morning before practice.”

Wearing my panties and one of Fin’s Coopers t-shirts, one that hung to my thighs, I went into the bathroom. “Let me help you with the sling to get your shirt off.”

“Is that a proposition?”

Grinning, I took in his handsome face with the stubbly beard growth on his chiseled jaw, his high cheekbones, and his messy hair. “That depends on you.”

He shook his head. “My answer is always yes.”

“You’re not too tired? I mean you were napping.”

His sexy grin quirked. “Power nap. I can keep going all night.”

CHAPTER 23

Fin

It was Saturday afternoon—game day in Crystal Light. The Buffalo Bills vs the Lexington Coopers and the first scheduled game of the divisional championship round. With my left shoulder and torso wrapped, beneath my pads and uniform, I looked like a mummy. I didn’t care as long as I was listed as active.

Last Thursday, I spoke to Coach Pratt about the Bills’ defense, telling him the similarities I saw from my experience with the Falcons. He had the same lightbulb moment. In seconds we were discussing strategies and plays.

Over the last six days, we’d studied every aspect of the Buffalo Bills. We knew every strength and every weakness. The Coopers were as ready as we could be to take on our opponent.

I wouldn’t see my parents until after the game. Nevertheless, I knew they were high above in the Hubbard family suite. As AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blared from the sound system and lightning zig-zagged in the fog-filled tunnel, the team ran behind Coach Tilson and onto the field.

The booming voice of the Big Hurt, the Coopers’ hometown announcer, reverberated through the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, your Lex-ing-ton Coopers.”

The crowd above was in a frenzy. The Coopers amber filled the stands from the first row to the very top. From the field, it appeared as if we were surrounded by an amber bowl. The retractable roof was closed, giving us a comfortable and dry playing field. Outside it was a balmy forty-eight degrees. Just like in Green Bay, the winter weather didn’t keep our fans from showing up.

According to Vee, they turned out en masse for the Coopers’ pregame celebration last night. Vee came home glowing with success. Earlier today, I saw her picture on the team’s website as she proposed a toast to all the season ticket holders in attendance. There were also pictures of her in her coat, scarf, and gloves mingling with the fans outside.

If I didn’t love her for her, I would love her for her dedication to the team and fans. According to a few sports sites, Maeve Hubbard was stealing the hearts of football fans everywhere.

I caught a quick glimpse of the woman who stole my heart years ago, standing on the sideline in her cowboy boots, flowy long amber skirt, and a black scooped-neck blouse covered by a blue jean jacket. Her brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. And even though I haven’t been able to kiss her since yesterday—damn hotel togetherness the night before a game—with only seeing her from afar, I can hear the soft noises she makes and taste her lips.

A giant American flag was unraveled on the field, held tightly in place by war veterans, the oldest being a World War II pilot, who recently turned 101. While he was pushed onto the field in a wheelchair, he was still holding the fabric. The cameraman zeroed in on him; the gentleman’s face showed on the jumbotron. He had tears in his eyes.