Page 4 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

The Captain and the Wide Receiver

They told me to “ ease back in.” Said I didn ’ t need to show up until next week.

I came anyway. No way I ’ m letting some backup think he ’ s stealing my spot.

I ’ m halfway through throwing drills when I hear music echoing from the studio—bass pounding, sharp counts, sneakers squeaking on hardwood. The Bombshells. Of course.

New season. New captain.

My water bottle ’ s half-empty, sweat clinging to my jaw, when I catch a blur of motion through the glass wall. They ’ re dancing full- out. But one of them—she moves different. She dances like the music lives in her bones. Controlled, sharp, graceful. Fire and finesse.

Then it hits me.

The coach ’ s daughter. Jade ’ s little sister. The girl who used to hide behind the bleachers with her headphones on, back when she wasn ’ t even on the team. She was quiet then. Young. Now she ’ s center stage—Captain Bombshell.

I watch a beat too long before snapping back to my workout. I ’ m not here for distractions. I ’ m not some rookie hypnotized by pretty dancers. Still... she moves like she already knows the playbook.

Later That Day – Team Meetin g

Coach calls us in after practice. Half the guys are bruised, the other half still hungover from draft week. “ Meet-and-greet with the Bombshells tomorrow,” Coach mutters. “ New leadership. Keep it clean. Keep it professional.”

Cue the groans.

Everyone knows half the team treats the Bombshells like a dating app with pom-poms. Not me. I ’ ve seen what happens when the lines blur—drama, distractions, and destroyed seasons. No thanks. As the guys shuffle out, I sit on the bench, rolling out my shoulder.

Karter one of the Defense Coaches walks by, grinning like a man with secrets—which, to be fair, he is.

“ You sticking around for the meet-up tomorrow?” he asks.

“ Yeah. Curious who the new captain is.” He smirks.

“ You ’ ll like her. She doesn ’ t take crap.

Even told off JJ.” I raise an eyebrow. “ Seriously?” “ Dead serious. You ’ ll see.

” I don ’ t know what he means exactly, but I ’ m already curious.

Not because she ’ s captain. Not because she ’ s stunning—though, yeah, that too.

But me? I ’ m not sure what happens the first time we talk.

Fire on the Field

I stared at that line—No fraternizing with cheerleaders or dancers —like it was a warning label on something I suddenly wanted more than anything.

I should ’ ve looked away. Should ’ ve been celebrating—made the team, dream ’ s alive, Chase, Logan, and I together again. But I couldn ’ t stop watching her.

The girl from check-in. The one who stole my breath before I even knew her name. She was still center stage, giving notes, moving like the captain she is. Then she laughed—real, unfiltered. The kind of laugh that makes your chest warm.

I was toast.

Logan elbowed me. “ Yo, Earth to B. You good?”

“ Yeah, just… taking it all in.”

He smirked. “ Taking her in, you mean. ”

Chase chuckled. “ Rule eighteen, man.”

I sighed. “ Doesn ’ t mean I can ’ t look.”

Noah jogged over. “ We hitting the diner? My stomach ’ s eating

itself.”

We laughed and walked off, but I couldn ’ t help glancing back.

She was still out there, laughing, hugging her coach—Coach Summer, probably.

Then she looked my way. Just for a second.

Might ’ ve been a coincidence. Might ’ ve been someone behind me.

But I swear—we locked eyes. And my whole body tensed like I ’ d just caught a game-winning

Hail Mary.

Linnie

The tryouts were background noise. My focus was on the music, the choreography, and my team ’ s energy—which was.

.. not great. Mom kept stopping practice, reshuffling girls, tweaking counts.

We were halfway through halftime when I felt it.

That prickle on the back of your neck when you know someone ’ s watching you.

I looked up. The team was grouped by the far end zone.

No one was close. But that pull, that heat—I knew someone had their eyes on me.

I ’ m used to pressure. I ’ ve danced since I was two.

Always the flyer in cheer. Always expected to shine.

That all changed when I got dropped in cheerleading from a stunt in high school.

Fractured my back. Left school. Got homeschooled.

I liked the freedom—but I missed the chaos.

Practice ended with a kick line. Once we got mom ’ s approval, we headed over to meet the guys.

I wasn ’ t thrilled about it. I swore off boys.

I was here to prove something to myself.

That I didn ’ t need anyone to complete me.

That I could stand tall—alone. Mom did the intros, talked about appearances, our shared season, and all the rules.

Including the one about no relationships. Standard.

After the meeting, we packed up. Jade and mom were already on me about the team not being sharp enough.

Sadie and Cleo walked with me to our cars.

The guys were still scrimmaging, like they hadn ’ t just gone through five hours of practice.

I was thinking about food, chugging water, when it hit me—I really didn ’ t know anything about football.

I mean, I loved the energy, the lights, the crowd.

But the game itself? Clueless. I made a mental note to do some research.

Just in case. At home, I crashed face-down before my UberEats even arrived.

The Next Morning – Car Wash Fundraiser

I woke up to sun—and a forecast promising snow tomorrow.

Gotta love Montana. Curled my hair, did my makeup, threw on my favorite white shorts and cheetah bikini top, and headed out.

Our first shift had four dancers and eleven football players.

The guys washed the cars. We worked the crowd.

I made a “ FREE CAR WASH” sign in bubble letters. Jade made a “ BULLETS CAR WASH” one.

We danced at the corner, blasted music, and pulled in a line of cars in no time.

We laughed so hard we didn ’ t notice hours passing.

When our shift ended, we joined the guys to talk.

I learned more about football in ten minutes than I had during my thirty-minute Google search.

Then I got a text from JJ. “ I see you ’ ve resorted to showing off your body for money.

You ’ re trash. I ’ m so glad I dumped you. ”

My heart sank.

I left before the tears could form. I got home and went for a run.

Tried to clear my head. Tried to remind myself that he doesn ’ t define me.

I turned the corner—and there he was. Running.

With another girl. He planned it. I know he did.

Kelly singing Never Again in my ears. I sprinted home.

Dozer and Ember were in the backyard. Their joy grounded me.

Jade brought dinner and we talked about tomorrow ’ s game. “ Three thousand people,” Karter said. “ You ready?” “ Nervous,” I admitted. “ But yeah. I ’ m excited.” That night, I showered, stretched, and set everything out for game day.

One last check of my phone before bed. Friend request: Blaine Austin. The name sounded familiar. I clicked his profile—football photos. Then it hit me. Number 15. Tryouts.

He didn ’ t stand out then.

Not like now.

Maybe I ’ ll keep an eye on him tomorrow.

Just to see what happens