Page 6 of The Interception (Southern Sports Sweethearts #2)

Chapter Five

Layne

The last thing I expected yesterday was for Ender to show up on the front porch and ask me to be his partner.

Okay, maybe that’s not accurate. The last thing I expected was for him to repeatedly insult me then ask me to be his partner.

Who cares at this point? My best chance at winning is my brand-new partner, who happens to be on board with trying some new twists to common meals.

Given his propensity for making meals fit for tailgating and my heavy Italian influence, we might be able to wow the judges with things never before seen.

Andrew’s truck is as much a beast today as it was yesterday, but I’m getting the hang of it.

Ironically, Ender drives the exact same make and model, but in an ever-so-slightly different shade.

I’m not sure why that piques my interest, but it does.

Perhaps he and my brother have more things in common besides truck style and their pro athlete status.

If so, it might make working with him that much easier. I’m used to the cocky athlete persona.

I pull into the massive parking lot at the address he gave me.

Ender wanted to get started planning recipes last night, but I was too exhausted to think about food.

All I wanted was to crash and let my dreams take me to new culinary heights, namely to my own restaurant where I decide what goes and stuffy chefs can’t push me around and insult me.

I’ve been insulted a lot this week.

He told me he would be at practice, so I’m not surprised to see him and his team on the practice field across from the lot.

I’ve been around athletes all my life, so the idea of trudging across the open parking lot and taking up residence on the bleachers doesn’t bother me like it might some women.

Of course, I don’t know much about football players, but I figure the fandom is all the same.

I’ll pull up a chair and wait for Ender to finish, then head to the massive kitchen at the stadium to test some things.

I’m not sure how he convinced the owner to let him use the kitchen, but I’m not complaining. Having use of such a large space will allow us room for multiple things at once. Plus, who doesn’t love working in a state-of-the-art kitchen?

I’m so lost in my thoughts, planning out the final details of some ideas, that I don’t pay close enough attention when I step foot onto the field. One would think the sidelines might be safe enough for a woman in a dress and heels to walk down to the seating area, but one would be wrong.

Devastatingly wrong.

I’ve never been hit by a linebacker before, but the difference between that and getting hit by a freight train cannot be much different.

A blur of black and green fills my vision before someone yells, “Watch out!” This does me no good since I have no clue what I’m watching out for.

Truthfully, it wouldn’t have mattered much if I had watched, because that blur of black and green hits me so hard I see next Tuesday before a flurry of blurred color takes my vision.

I land hard on my back and blink several times as I wheeze, desperate for a full breath.

My lungs seem too angry to inhale fully, so I continue with small breaths while my vision clears.

My tote bag with a few supplies plops beside me, but I can’t be bothered to make sure nothing broke.

I’m staring up at the cloudless sky, wondering what happened to me when Ender’s face comes into view.

“Layne! Are you okay?” He presses his hand to my forehead, which is the most illogical thing to do after a woman is leveled. Even I know that, and I’m still not sure I can add two plus two properly.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” A man I don’t recognize joins Ender in staring down at me.

“It’s okay,” I say and offer a thumbs-up. Still, I can’t consider sitting up just yet. My stomach is working through its emotions, and I’m pretty sure any attempt at getting upright will end in something akin to the rotten pickle overdose of only a few days ago.

“We should probably let the team doctor check you out,” Ender says.

“No, no. I’m fine.” I wave him off and push into a seated position. The world tilts and I sway. “Nope. Not okay.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Ender winces and supports me with his arm behind my back.

“Ugh, we don’t have time for me to be out today. We have to start planning and testing for round one.”

“Come on, hotshot. Let’s get you checked out and we’ll go from there.

I’m sure we’ll still get something accomplished today.

” He tugs my arm around his neck and slides his other arm under my legs before hoisting me into his arms. Up off the ground, I notice the entire team has surrounded us, including the coach.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” I say and cover my face while Ender carries me off the field and toward the main building.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. You took a full-on tackle like a champ, no padding or anything.”

I scoff and shake my head. “There is no way that was a full tackle. I saw the size of that guy. He would have knocked my soul right out of my body if he’d really been trying.

” I roll my eyes and try not to let it get to me that I was just sprawled on the field, dress probably spread open to the world.

Ender nods a little and shrugs. “Okay, maybe not a full tackle. He tried to slow down, but he still hit you pretty dang hard, Layne. You took it like a champ.” I’m not used to such praise from a super hot stranger, so my cheeks burn with a blush.

“I still think I’ll pass on a career in football, if you don’t mind.

” I try to keep up conversation so I don’t have to think about the fact that he’s literally carrying me all the way to the medical office.

And despite having been sweating profusely, he doesn’t smell like a whole cow after a roll in the field.

I definitely don’t think about how steady and supportive his arms feel around me, how nice it is to be held even if it is so I don’t pass out and crack my skull open.

There isn’t anything about this situation that is flirtatious or affectionate, and yet, it might be the flirtiest and most affectionate thing a man has ever done for me.

Somehow, Ender manages to get the door open with one foot while holding tight to me. The blast of a whistle reminds me that practice must go on, even without their star running back…whatever that is.

“I’m sorry you’re missing practice. You can just dump me here, and I’ll meet you after,” I say and try to wiggle free so I can walk on my own two feet.

Ender takes the hint and stops to let me stand. I brush loose strands of hair back from my face, wipe my palms down the front of my dress as if it might smooth the wrinkles and remove the mud, and take one step. The second I put weight on my left foot, I go down like a sack of potatoes.

“Whoa there, are you still dizzy?” Ender asks. His arm supports me from behind and he’s helping me upright again before I have a chance to respond. “I hope he didn’t give you a concussion.”

“No, it’s my shoe. It just snapped.” The heel is broken off, but I have another pair in the truck. Before he can move to lift me off my feet again, I take the other shoe off and decide wandering into the team doctor’s office barefoot is better than what he does to my heart when he carries me.

He frowns but lets me walk on my own. I feel completely fine.

There’s probably no reason to visit this doctor, but I don’t think he’ll let me out of it.

Ender opens the door and we cross a small sitting area with a few chairs and a coffee table covered with sports magazines.

He knocks on the glass window before sliding it open.

“Doc, can I come in?”

A doctor—who doesn’t look like a doctor because he’s wearing what can only be described as a track suit with a Timberwolves logo on the front—slides back in his rolling chair to see who has beckoned him.

“Ender, sure, come on in.”

Ender opens the door and steps aside to let me enter. “Hey, Doc, this is my cooking partner, Layne. She got tackled by accident in practice.”

“Oh wow. Who tackled her?” The doctor stands and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He’s got the faintest touch of salt and pepper hair and a stethoscope around his neck…which I assume is to impress upon people that he is a doctor.

“Johnson,” Ender says. “Not full-on, but still, she got knocked down and was a little dizzy. Mind checking her out?”

“Not at all. Have a seat and we’ll make sure you’re in tip top shape. Not every day someone survives a hit from Johnson, so you probably deserve a medal.” The doctor motions for me to follow him, but I hesitate.

“Uh…where will you be?” I ask Ender.

“Showers in the locker room unless you want me to stay?” He widens his eyes in question. It seems like he trusts the guy. I shake my head and motion for him to go.

“I’ll meet you here after, I guess. If it’s okay for me to stay in the waiting room, I mean.” I look back to the doctor whose name I still don’t know for approval that I can chill in his empty waiting room while waiting for Ender.

“Or I can take you down to the kitchen,” the doctor says. “I assume that’s where you were headed if you’re here to work with Ender?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually. Sound good?” I look up at Ender but now he’s got a sick expression on his face, like he might be second-guessing this entire situation. It only lasts for a moment, a quick flash on his face, before he nods.

“Yeah, that would work. You sure you don’t want me to wait?” His gaze bounces between the doctor and me.

“I think I’m fine. Besides, I don’t want your coach to get mad at you. Go do your football thing, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”