Page 29 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Boise Meets Girl

Back at her house, Linnie had swapped her winter boots for fuzzy socks and curled into the corner of the couch with a mug of tea. Sadie, Cleo (back from Arizona), and Jade were all in various levels of lounge clothes and talking over each other like always.

“ I swear Arizona has this weird vibe like everything ’ s fake nice,” Cleo said, swiping through pics of palm trees. “ I don ’ t know if I ’ m into it.”

Jade grinned. “ I ’ m glad you ’ re back. Linnie needs her full hype squad right now anyway.”

“ Especially since she ’ s officially the queen of Snowy Football

Romance,” Sadie teased. “ I saw that photo of you two in Great Falls. You looked like a romcom poster.”

Linnie blushed. “ We were cold! And tired. And okay, maybe a little cute.”

“ Okay?!” Jade tossed a pillow at her. “ Girl, I haven ’ t seen Blaine smile like ever.”

Linnie tucked her knees into her chest. “ It ’ s just… easy with him. Even when everything ’ s crazy. Like when we were driving home today, it didn ’ t feel like the trip was over. It felt like… it ’ s all just starting.”

Cleo raised her glass of sparkling water. “ To new beginnings, boys who drive safe, and pizza nights.”

“ Cheers,” they all echoed, clinking mismatched mugs and glasses.

By the time midnight hit, Blaine had fallen asleep on his gaming chair, headset crooked on his head.

Linnie was curled up in bed, texting him a sleepy goodnight message and smiling at her lock screen—still set to that bundled-up photo from Great Falls.

And in the quiet spaces between games and gossip, they both felt the same thing :

Something real.

Something worth holding onto.

The city below them glowed soft and golden, sun dipping behind the edge of the mountains like it was being pulled down by a string.

The Rims stretched wide behind them, jagged and quiet and still as they leaned against the tailgate of Blaine ’ s truck—only this time, Linnie had driven it.

She held up the keys with a grin. “ I still can ’ t believe you actually let me drive it. ”

Blaine looked at her like she was the only star in the sky. “ You ’ re the only person I would let drive it.”

The old Silverado rumbled just behind them, parked neatly against the edge. The windows were cracked, and from the speakers, a familiar song floated through the air— “ Replay” by Zendaya. The beat was soft but steady, echoing out over the ridge like a heartbeat.

Linnie turned toward the sound, eyes wide with surprise. “ Wait… you added this to your playlist?”

Blaine shrugged, that half-smile playing on his lips. “ It made me think of you. Kind of stuck in my head ever since you danced to it in the mirror that morning. Remember? You were brushing your teeth, still half-asleep, doing those shoulder moves like you were in a music video.”

She laughed, cheeks pink. “ That was not a performance. That was survival.”

“ Still,” he said, gently taking her hand. “ It ’ s been on replay ever since.”

The air up here always smelled like pine and sage, warm rocks and possibility. But tonight, it smelled like something more. Like something new.

Linnie leaned into him, shoulder pressing against his chest.

“ You ’ re really excited, huh?”

Blaine nodded, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “ Yeah. Not just about football. About this. Us.”

They stood there, song still playing, watching the sun drop fully behind the mountains, the city lights flickering like stars being born below.

And when the chorus hit again— “ Wanna put this song on replay…” —Blaine leaned down and kissed her slow, like time didn ’ t matter, like maybe this moment could loop forever.

Blaine smiled, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer.

“ Boise, baby. Playoffs. I ’ ve never done anything like this.

High school was a bust. This—this is something.”

“ I ’ m proud of you,” she whispered, turning to look up at him.

His eyes shimmered with that boyish charm, but something deeper too. He reached for her hand and played with her fingers. “ I don ’ t think I ’ d be holding it together if it wasn ’ t for you.”

Linnie squeezed his hand. “ You ’ d still be you. I ’ m just lucky I get to be around for it.”

He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, slow and sweet.

She nudged him playfully. “ So, Friday night. Right after you get off work?”

“ Yeah. Wes said we ’ ll probably wrap around six. I ’ ll shower, pack, and we ’ ll hit the road in your Equinox.”

“ I already filled the tank,” she said with a wink.

“ You ’ re an angel.”

They watched the sky go from pink to lavender, the stars slowly popping into view. The wind tugged gently at Linnie ’ s hair, and she pulled a blanket from the cab to throw over their laps as they sat on the edge of the bed, legs dangling.

“ I ’ m glad we got this night,” Blaine said after a pause. “ Before everything gets wild.”

“ Me too.”

He looked at her again, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “ You know… I always imagined the playoffs would be about football. But right now? I think I ’ m more excited to be driving to Boise with you.”

Linnie leaned in, lips brushing his, soft and full of promise. “ We ’ re kind of unstoppable, huh?”

Blaine grinned. “ Bulletproof, baby.”

They stayed there until the wind got too cold, the stars bright enough to make wishes on.

And when Linnie slid into the driver ’ s seat and Blaine climbed in beside her, he looked at her like she was the whole damn sunset wrapped in one girl.

He ’ d never been more ready—for love, for playoffs, for whatever came next.

Linnie was in full prep mode by 4 p.m.—a girl on a mission.

She ’ d hit the grocery store hard: trail mix, gummy bears, Slim Jims, kettle chips, protein bars, energy drinks, bottled water, iced coffee, gum in every flavor, and even Blaine ’ s favorite candy Twix.

Two blankets, an emergency hoodie, a small cooler packed with sandwiches and fruit, extra phone cords, portable chargers, a backup pair of sunglasses, and an entire playlist labeled

"Bulletproof Boise Bound" —she was ready.

Well, almost.

Blaine called right as she was loading everything into the back of her freshly tuned-up Equinox.

“ Hey, babe—I ’ m still at Wes ’ s. Running behind. Could you pack up my gear? Leave my truck. I ’ ll meet you at your place and we ’ ll hit the road around 8.”

She didn ’ t even hesitate. “ Got it. Just hurry, I ’ m going to need co- pilot energy soon.”

By the time Blaine finally arrived—sweaty from work, limping slightly from the week ’ s final practice—she had everything packed, including his cleats, helmet, and a change of clothes he almost forgot. They pulled out of Billings just before 8, with

Linnie behind the wheel, her playlist humming low.

The highway was dark. Her headlights were barely brighter than a candle.

The roads stretched on forever, long and lonely.

By the time they rolled into Bozeman around 10:45 p.m., Blaine had passed out cold, jaw slack, hat tipped over his eyes.

He was completely wiped out. She didn ’ t wake him.

Just hit a drive-thru, ate quietly, filled the tank, and got back on the road.

Somewhere after midnight, she missed the exit. GPS re-routed her through Yellowstone.

Yellowstone.

At two in the morning.

She was white-knuckling the wheel, the glow of elk eyes bouncing back at her from the shoulder. Her music was off. The only thing keeping her awake was adrenaline and caffeine. She whispered to herself, “ You ’ re fine. This is fine. You are not going to get eaten by a bear.”

By the time they reached Idaho Falls around 4:30 a.m., she was trembling with exhaustion.

Blaine was still out, mouth slightly open, hoodie pulled over his face.

Linnie didn ’ t wake him. She pulled into a quiet truck stop, left the engine on, tucked blankets around both of them, and finally let herself crash in the drivers seat.

She woke up at 8 a.m. stiff and dry-eyed. She stretched, refilled the gas, and kept going. It wasn ’ t until 9:30 that Blaine stirred in the seat next to her. Groggy, blinking, confused.

“ Wait… Where are we?”

She yawned, offered him a soft smile, eyes tired but kind. “ About to pull into Chick-fil-A. You slept through the mountains, the pitch-black forest, and three near-deer collisions.”

He sat up, rubbed his eyes. “ You drove the whole way? Linnie— why didn ’ t you wake me?”

She parked, unbuckled, and shrugged like it was no big deal. “ You needed rest. We ’ re almost there.”

He stared at her as she dug into the bag of food. She was still smiling. Still her. How had he gotten this lucky?

“ You ’ re incredible,” he whispered .

She just passed him a hash brown and a straw. “ Eat. You ’ ve got a game to win.”

They pulled into the Boise field at 12:40 p.m.—just enough time for Blaine to grab his gear and sprint inside.

Linnie pulled into the lot like a seasoned football girlfriend, finding her girls already there—Jade, Sadie, Cleo—dressed in Bombshell burgundy and gold with matching jackets and team-colored bows.

They hugged tightly, Linnie ’ s exhaustion melting away at the sight of her friends.

Blaine looked out from the locker room tunnel, sweaty, breath catching. She looked stunning. Big brown curls, cheeks rosy from the chill, pom poms in hand and a spark in her eye just for him.

Kickoff came fast. Music pulsed through the stadium—old-school tracks and hard-hitting football remixes.

The Bullet fans showed up strong. Third quarter changed everything.

Chase went down hard—clutching his leg—and the energy dipped.

Blaine fought like hell, but the backup QB Bruce couldn ’ t find rhythm.

They lost. Just like that. All that work.

All that hope .

Gone.