Page 1 of Playing for Love

Gabe

“Imiss you, babe.”

“Enough to get yourself transferred to Atlanta, Mr. Football Star?”

Familiar words, but with more snap than sass. Letting them roll over me, I closed my eyes, expecting the same kind of gut-punched feeling I got when she moved last year, forcing us into a long-distance relationship. Looking around my too-large bedroom, after a beat, with only a knot of tension and mild annoyance settled inside me, I responded.

“Not now.” My next thought was not ever, because Atlanta’s team and management sucked, but I didn’t share that with her. I wanted to share some teasing and laughs with her, the way we always had.

Denise’s impatient sigh signaled the likelihood of that being zero to none.

“Gabe, you can’t put it off forever. You got your damn Super Bowl championship.” She paused. I, for once, kept my mouth shut, waiting her out. Maybe some of my old roommate Hunter Quintanna, a man of few words, was rubbing off on me. Lifting off the bed, I paced around the room in my boxers. It was getting late, the sun shining low on the horizon, and I was starving.

“In the meantime, I have a favor to ask.” Her voice had returned to the pleasant tease I’d come to know and love, and I imagined her favor involving sex toys.

“My best friend from college, Mia Lane, you remember her, right?”

I held in a sigh. “Babe, every girlfriend is your best friend. No, I’m not sure I do remember her, but if she needs tickets—”

“No.” She laughed, that laugh that had me interested from the first time we met, full of passionate promise, teasing yet edgy.

“Not everyone is interested in watching you play football, you know.”

“So you remind me.” It was true. My family liked that she kept me humble, or at least my brothers and dad did. My mother and sisters, not so much. They thought she ought to adore me, kinda like they did. I was spoiled. I needed Denise and her reality-check sass—along with her sensual torture.

“Mia is the one who was dating Paul, but she got a job in Boston and broke up with him to move there. I asked her to keep an eye on you for me. Be nice to her and show her around, introduce her to some nice guys—preferably not from the team.”

“Hey, what do you have against my teammates?” I ignored the part about her friend being my watchdog. Denise had always been jealous of the female attention I got. We’d had more makeup sex for perceived slights than any other kind of sex the past two years, since I became a legitimate NFL quarterback—or, in her words, Mr. Football Star.

“Your teammates are probably all too into football like you are,” she said. No punches pulled there.

“Unfair, Denise. You were the one who left town.”

“I have a life and career too, you know.” Her voice hardened, no fun left in it.

We were racing toward a familiar argument like a wide-out heading for the end zone, only the end result would be nothing like a score. I refocused the conversation. Walking toward my bathroom, I was ready to end the call and jump into the shower.

“So what do you want me to do with her—your friend?”

“You forgot her name already, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She laughed. I was notoriously bad with names. Always had been, long before football, so I couldn’t attribute it to any hits to my head. Denise had tried to train me to remember names, said it was important, especially since I’d be meeting a lot of people in my position. She was right. We’d had mixed success.

“It doesn’t count. I haven’t met her.”

“Yes, you have. But that’s a whole other matter.”

I took a deep breath and held my tongue for the second time in this conversation. That took some doing and I was damn proud of myself. If Hunter were here, he’d be proud of me too. I think I missed him as a roommate almost as much as Denise. But not quite.

“Take her out—not on dates. Don’t let anyone think you’re dating.” She paused, then said, “On second thought, maybe it would work out if the media thought you were dating. It might cut down on random women throwing themselves at you if they were reminded you were still taken. Heaven knows I had a hard time keeping them off you while I was there. What do you think?”

“I think you’re overthinking it. I’ll take her on some nondates and introduce her to some non-football guys. Anything else?”

“Perfect. You’re a doll. Love you. I have to go now—”

“Wait, what was her name?”