Page 97 of Bluffed By the Offense

“Tauch?” I ask.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ve got my broom and dustpan handy. But I have to get to work now.”

“I’ll call Cass.”

“Thanks, Delaney.”

“No problem.”

I lean back on the block wall of the hallway outside the locker room and pull up Cass’s contact. A few guys exit, nodding at me when they see me on a call.

The phone rings. Cass answers.

“Marcus?”

“Hey, Cass. How are you?”

“How am I?”

“Yeah. How are you?”

Is it weird that I really want to know?

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Well, I’m calling to check if you got a call from Good Day Nashville.”

“I did. No big deal. Just another day in the life, getting calls from morning shows to ask if I can come down to be a guest.”

I chuckle.

“So, I usually ride the team bus down,” I tell her. “But I have to leave tomorrow so I can be there for Wednesday morning. Then I’m staying on for the game Thursday. How are you getting down there?”

“Are you offering me a ride, Cold Turkey?”

“Rules, Carter. You can call me Marcus, or occasionally, Delaney.”

“Cold. Turkey,” she says again, emphasizing each word.

I’d tell her the story. It’s really not that big of a deal. It’s going to be anticlimactic when I finally do. But I like taunting her. Why? I don’t know. But I do. So I’m drawing the secret out as long as possible.

“I was sort of offering you a ride,” I say. “If you need one. Or want one.”

Why do I feel like I’m asking a woman on a date? And not any woman. A woman who matters enough to make me nervous. This is just Cass, my stubborn, feisty fake girlfriend.

“I’ll ride with you if you tell me the story behind that nickname,” she says, that familiar note of taunting in her voice.

“Is this bribery?” I ask.

“It’s blackmail.” She laughs.

“Do you need a ride?”

“That depends. Winona’s coming with me. Channel Seven got us tickets to Thursday’s game.”

“Winona can come with us.”

Am I that desperate to have Cass ride with me?