Page 20 of First Down Promise

My stomach bunches up as I glance toward the front door while Pete explains why buying this place in Florida is a good idea. I picture her walking in after a date with some guy’s arm around her shoulders, the asshole secretly anxious to meet Pete. It doesn’t stop there. What if he put her on the edge of this counter, stood between her legs, and kissed those glossy lips? Maybe he has to lean down…because he’s six-foot-five. Like me. But then, I picture myself tangling my fingers in her loose braid.

I shake my head and clear my throat. “Yeah. I mean, it’s cool, but it doesn’t feel like you. I could see you in a lake house on one of the Great Lakes, you know?”

Pete slumps a little but laughs under his breath, running his hand over the short curls on the top of his head. “That’s funny. Abby wants a lake house.” Did I subconsciously know she’d be into that? No, no way. She loves going to the beach, but she still misses her roots too. A chill runs through me; she could always move back to Wisconsin. In theory, she’s supposed to after the season.

“She has good taste,” I say. “But this?” I point to the screen. “Won’t age well. Get a fixer-upper instead with good bones, invest in renovations, and you’ll have a gem. You already have a modern house.”

Pete’s lips shift into a half-smile. “Hmm, you might be right. I’ll ask my realtor for some listings up north, but I know she’ll steer me back to the coast.”

“Because you’re working with a luxury real estate agent. They just want the commission. Why not use a realtor up there?” I ask. “Give them the business.”

“You can take the boy out of West Texas,” Pete jokes and closes the laptop. “But that’s a good point, man. There’s no need to worry about this right now. Trying to buy a place during the season is more stress than I need.”

“Yeah.” I glance at my smartwatch and tap my index finger on the counter. “I should go. We’re flying out tomorrow.”

An away game with no Abby in attendance, which is probably for the best after this evening. I have things to sort out and might need a therapist. And a bodyguard. If Pete knew I saw Abby as something more than the team’s little sister, he’d have my head regardless of how far back we go.

Pete raises his eyebrows. “Oh, shit, you’re right.” He walks me to the front door. “Night, man. Thanks for the real estate advice and bringing me back to earth,” he jokes.

I smile faintly because there’s no keeping him humble these days. “Anytime, man. See you tomorrow.”

Pete shuts the front door behind me. At my truck in the driveway, I grab the handle and pull myself into the cab, catching a glimpse of Abby’s pretty white SUV through the garage door’s windows as the moonlight highlights it. My truck is tall enough that I can see through the high windows, but I’ve never paid attention until now.

I shudder against the driver’s seat and press the button to start my truck. As the truck roars to life, I remember I told her I’d set her up, and I grind the back of my head into the headrest. Sighing, I tap through the truck’s touchscreen until I’m scrolling my contacts list. Who’s single? Who might actually listen to me? As I slide through my overly long contact list, I cringe when I notice some female names that I’d rather forget. Maybe I should put a Z in front of their names, so they’re buried at the bottom of the damn list. I rarely deleted my exes’ numbers from my phone in case they tried hitting me up later, but I wasn’t saving any of them for a rainy day. Lord knows it’s been weeks since I talked to a female who wasn’t Abby.

Landing on Rhett, my finger pauses. He sold me this truck, arranging with a dealer in Texas to have it brought over to Tennessee. He’s nice, extroverted, and likely in his mid-twenties. A safe choice.

It’s after eight, but I tap on his name anyway. Car salesmen are hustlers, after all, and if my request of him requires buying a car, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.

“Hey, Josh,” he answers after only a couple of rings.

“Hey, man.” I shift the truck into reverse. “I have an offer for you.”

Chapter Seven

Abby

I’m still not sure whether I want to thank Josh or strangle him for setting me up with someone, but apparently, I’m going through with it either way.

“Why are you dressed up?” Pete asks.

I glance up from my overstuffed clutch. “Oh, Josh set me up with a guy,” I reply, wrestling my car keys into the tiny bag.

Pete’s brows pinch together. “Josh? Why would he...? Who’s the guy?”

“The guy who sold him his truck, I guess. His name is Rhett,” I answer. “He’s a little older than me, but we’ve been texting all week. He’s really nice, and Josh said I’d like him.”

“Josh set you up?” Pete repeats, even slower this time.

My mouth pulls to one side. “Oh my God, is the CTE setting in?” I tease to mask my real feelings.

“Abby, come on. No, I just didn’t think you and Josh talked much. Let alone enough for him to set you up.”

I flush under my full-coverage foundation. It was our deal after Josh embarrassed me by looking at my phone, but he had a point. I’ve only cheered at a couple of games so far, and the head cheerleader has kept me in the back.

“Um, we kind of chatted about it last weekend,” I say, intentionally leaving the part about the damn app out. Pete would blow a fuse if he knew I tried that avenue first, but my gut told me it was a risk when I created my profile.

“So, do you know what this guy looks like?”