Page 30 of Bluffed By the Offense

Me: That’s not chemistry. Trust me. She fell. I caught her. It’s a long story. You guys need to move on. Cass and I are, that’s for sure.

Chapter 7

Marcus

There’s nothing I love more than watching

an unstoppable force meet an immovable object …

~ Emily Henry

Kate calls me first thing in the morning. The guys already got into our text thread and razzed me about the photos of Cass and me at the Fork and Fiddle. I should have known better than to take a blind date to a hot spot in Waterford. This town is small enough that Thunder players are either ignored because people have grown used to us, or, as happened last night, we become a spectacle.

“Hey, Marcus!” Kate’s voice is bright and focused, despite the early hour.

“Good morning, Kate. A man can’t even down his first protein drink before he has to face PR?” I joke.

“In my business, timing is everything. Drink your shake while we talk.”

“What’s up?” I ask the question even though I’m pretty sure I know what she’s calling about.

“I saw your date.”

“Not exactly a date,” I correct her.

It’s futile trying to convince anyone. I experienced that with the guys—and they know me better than anyone. But Kate should know Cass and I weren’t on a date—even though we sort of were.

“Oh? So, what would put you and Cass Carter out at the Fork and Fiddle looking freshly showered and dressed up, sitting alone at a table for two? And what led to you catching her when she almost fell?”

“That’s a story.” I blow out a breath, spanning my forehead with my hand and pressing a finger and thumb to rub my temples.

I fill Kate in on the way Declan and Winona set me and Cass up. I share the whole night from my perspective—how irritated Cass was, how she kept checking the clock, how she called me bossy. Kate has the nerve to laugh at that one. Then I tell her how we were arguing over who would pay the bill.

“I’ve never met a woman who didn’t assume I was paying, let alone someone who would fight me on it.” I shake my head. “She’s so stubborn.”

Kate laughs again. “If we weren’t progressing this narrative, and she weren’t helping your image come up from the grave, I would spin this so hard.”

“What do you mean, helping my image?”

“The public loves the idea of you two dating. They’re going nuts over the photos of you two at the table. There are even a few viral close-ups of your legs—just your legs under the table brushing hers.”

People are so weird.

“Sitting at that table was like trying to fit into toddler clothing. I had to stretch out. I was getting a cramp.”

She laughs again.

“Glad to be your source of morning entertainment.”

“Trust me, you’re making me work for my paycheck, QB.” I can practically see her smile through the phone.

Kate deals with real messes. Players get into fights, face serious allegations, or the media has a heyday tearing someone apart. She deals with all that. I’m sure my little situation is a reprieve for her.

“Anyway,” she says. “The videos of Cass falling backward and the way you swooped in to save her are catching like a wildfire. She lands, looking up into your eyes. The way you look down at her? It’s gold. And the public loves it. I couldn’t have timed this better. Right after the stranger sessions? The pump was primed. Now the world is convinced the two of you are the next hot “it” couple like TayTay and Kelce.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“That’s a great thing!” She’s ecstatic. “My work has been done. The public has long forgotten that you didn’t shake hands at the playoffs. They’re far more enamored with the way you caught your falling girlfriend when she lost her balance at dinner—a romantic dinner where your legs were touching under the table.”