Page 12 of The Game Plan

Sutton was genuinely shocked by how hot the kiss with Reese was. And she couldn't even blame her lack of boyfriends since she and her ex broke up nine months ago.

The kiss with him was something she had never experienced before.

“I promise you it wasn’t disappointing,” Sutton said. She grinned. “It was pretty spectacular.”

“You lied?” Carrie pouted. “So rude.”

“Oh, relax.” Sutton rolled her eyes. “I didn’t lie. It was fine.”

“Spectacular is way better than fine, Sutton.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sutton replied, looking back down at Carrie's phone.

She looked at them in the background and tried her best not to smile, but she couldn't help it.

“Sutton,” Carrie asked, giving her a peculiar look, “do you like Reese?”

Sutton sputtered and shook her head. “Of course not. Like I said, I don’t?—”

“Date football players,” Carrie interjected. “You said that already.”

Carrie swiped her phone from the desk, tapping it against her hand as she made her way toward the door. “What if he asks you out?”

“Carrie, he won’t ask me out, I promise.”

“But how do you know?”

Sutton sighed and crossed her arms. “Because he already told me he wasn’t interested in anything right now because of football. The Kings have the championship game against the Fortune on Sunday, and if they make it, the big game in three weeks. He is in the middle of something huge and doesn’t want to jeopardize that. And I wouldn’t want him to, either.”

Sadness flooded Carrie’s brown eyes, and Sutton sighed. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Maybe if they win, he’ll ask me out. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“You’re so patient,” Carrie said, a fire chasing away the sadness. “If I had a spectacular kiss with someone, I’d be chasing him down the sidelines, hoping for another chance. That’s a soulmate, no doubt about it.”

Sutton rolled her eyes and shooed her assistant out.

With a last look at her, Carrie left the office, closing the door behind her.

Sutton sighed and turned her attention back to her work on her desk, trying her best not to think about Reese anymore.

Reese walkedinto his agent’s office with a soft knock, the agent in question waving at him to come in, even though he was on the phone.

“Yes, thank you,” Tito said, “I’ll let him know.”

He hung up and beamed at Reese.

“Reese Vaughn,” he said. He came around the desk and shook his hand, and Reese watched as he walked back to his desk, motioning for him to sit.

Tito Juarez was the youngest agent Reese had worked with, but he was also a bulldog when it came to negotiations. He usually got what he wanted, or as close as humanly possible to the end goal.

He was smart and driven to succeed. Reese liked that best about him. Well, that and his style.

Tito was always dressed in a neatly pressed suit and button-down shirt, the suit accented by his two favorite diamond chains that matched his diamond grill.

“How is my favorite football player today?” Tito asked, shuffling some papers around on his desk.

“I’m doing good,” Reese replied, occupying the chair across from him. “I was curious about what you wanted to talk to me about. Your secretary didn’t say.”

“Well,” Tito said, clasping his hands together on the desk in front of him, “did you see the photo on Instagram you were tagged in recently?”