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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JAKE

After the handcuffing episode, I have no business being distracted, but my attention is shot to hell.

Coach obviously agrees, singling me out for extra shuttle runs, ladder drills, and tire flips. Even the guys wince as they watch me suffer. And yet, my eyes keep wandering to the windows of the corporate offices.

How is Amelia’s interview going? What department will she end up in? There’s no reason Jessica isn’t hiring Amelia after hearing she was the woman who’d come to my rescue. Not that I was lying when I told Amelia she’d be impressive no matter what. I have no doubt she’ll do whatever’s necessary to do well in whatever position she gets. This gig happens to be perfect. It sorts out her cash worries until the end of the season and keeps her close enough for Jessica to keep an eye on. Plus, any job in football beats working at an inn and dishwashing duty—though I might be biased.

Now that that’s all squared away and sorted, and I mentally file her away to Exile Island. Yet, less than thirty minutes later, as I’m taking a water break, who do I see? Amelia walking down the stands with Sara, pausing a few levels above me.

I follow her legs up to the hem of the skirt that clings in all the right places. Her hair is up in some sexy do that begs for a little ruffling. She cleans up nicely, very nicely. It’s a stark contrast to her chaotic post-plane ride and dog-pee disaster. Memories of her soft skin in my grip last night flood back. Amelia and I won’t bump into each other after this. The Titans organization is a labyrinth, and chances are she’ll end up in some admin role and fade into the corporate abyss.

My mind wanders to that photo with her and that scrawny Brit. He’s more her type. Though that idiot clearly didn’t appreciate her, because there’s no way he would let her go otherwise.

Suddenly, a smack between my shoulder blades sends me staggering into reality. “Yo!”

I catch my balance and whip around to Milo’s grinning mug. “What the fuck?”

Ignoring my irritation, his eyes flicker from me up to where Amelia is chatting with Sara and back again. “Nice ass, new girl?” And now I want to punch him.

“Watch it,” I snap, my voice cold and firm right as Connor and Logan jog up.

The guys look taken aback, and I don’t blame them—normally I don’t let female drama rile me up, nor am I sharp with my teammates off the field.

“She’s my sister’s friend. And a new employee.”

“You got her the job?”

“I made an intro,” I say, hoping to shut down the interrogation. “That’s it.” Favor returned. Good karma restored. My work is done. Now back to business—as in football and scratching my head over Nurture NYC.

Connor whistles. “You asked Jessica for a favor? You ready to surrender your first born or something?”

Hunter snickers, chiming in, “What are you, her fairy godfather?”

Thankfully, the whistle blows, signaling that we’re up. Coach calls out the next play he wants to see. I’m here, I’m focused, totally laser sharp. The snap. Ball in the air. My hands fly up. Yes. Yes. Almost got it. Argh. Fuck.