Page 33 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

WILY

Satch is hilariously stoked and excited at being able to catch a ball less than half the time I threw it at her.

It was pretty funny watching the sweet concentration on her face.

She obviously likes to get things right.

Man, her apologetic wincing every time she dropped the ball made me wonder who taught her how to catch in the first place.

As I gather the ball to my chest, I walk forward and have to ask, “You play catch with your dad much?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “No. He was always too busy working in the diner. When we did have time off, we’d be doing other stuff, like watching movies or playing board games. Things like that. We’re more of an indoorsy bunch.” She looks me up and down. “Unlike you, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah.” I take her hand, leading her over to the picnic blanket.

The air is cold tonight, and the tip of her nose is going red. I can feel the chill of her fingers through her gloves and figure it’s hot chocolate time.

“My dad had me in the backyard throwing a ball before I could walk.” I unscrew the cap of the thermos while she takes a seat on the pillow opposite mine.

“Really? That seems young.”

I shrug. “The guy has always been passionate about football.”

“Did he play in college?”

“He tried.” I wince. “Think it always bugged him that he didn’t make the cut. He’s a decent athlete, but he’s not fast enough to keep up, and he’s not big enough to block well.”

“Thanks.” She takes the mug of hot cocoa and curls her gloved hands around it. “Smells good.”

I smile, not wanting to admit that Sienna was the one who made it for me.

Satch blows on the steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip. “Your dad must have been stoked when you came along. Were you big as a kid too?”

“Yeah, I’ve always been big for my age.” I swallow down the hot brew and end up burning my tongue.

Gritting my teeth, I hide my discomfort and set my drink aside, pulling out the PB&J sandwiches I did actually make myself.

I’m just about to open the container when a sudden thought hits me, and I groan.

“Shit, you’re not allergic to peanuts, are you? ”

“Nope. I’m not allergic to anything.” She grins as I take the lid off and hold one out for her. “Oooo. Nice. Did you make these?”

“Yes, ma’am. These are a Wily special. ”

“Impressive,” she murmurs, wiggling her eyebrows and taking a bite.

“Not the classy dinner you might have been expecting, but I?—”

“I love this,” she interrupts me. “This is better than a restaurant or diner or anywhere else you could take me.” Her eyes start to glow in the lantern light. “You’re showing me a piece of your soul… and it’s beautiful.”

Shit, I think I’m blushing. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into empty plastic chairs and a field of grass. But I just wanted to show you my reason.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” She looks around us, then up at the night sky. “Do you think it’s going to snow tonight?”

“I’m not sure.” I hold my palm up, ready to catch flakes, but nothing’s falling. “We can leave if you?—”

“No, I want to stay.” She smiles. “Of course I want to stay. I feel like we’re the only two people on Earth right now, and I love that.”

She flashes me those white teeth again, and I can’t help staring at her mouth and the beautiful shape it makes when she smiles.

Her nose wrinkles at my perusal and she dips her chin, taking another bite of her sandwich before bobbing her head like a pigeon and looking anywhere but at me.

We eat our sandwiches in silence, me devouring three to her one.

She finishes off her cocoa and I offer her a refill, which she accepts. It breaks the quiet between us, and I’m soon talking about the Scouting Combine and how vitally important it is.

She seems really interested as I explain the ins and outs of the week I’ve been preparing for and how it’s going to help me get drafted.

She asks me more questions, pulling details out of me, and soon I’m walking to the center line of the field and showing her my various positions and the lines I run on the regular.

“There are always variations.” I walk back to the picnic blanket. “Each game is different, but you get the idea.”

“Absolutely. There’s actually way more strategy to football than I realized. You showed me that when you taught me the basic game structure, and I’ve only watched two games so?—”

“Only two?” I gape at her. “In your whole life?”

She nods and softly admits, “They were both yours.”

That makes me still and I gaze down at her, all tucked up on the picnic blanket, her winter coat wrapped around her bent legs.

Taking a seat beside her, I run my hand down her arm and try to find the words to tell her how much that means to me.

But nothing comes out.

Instead, I reach for the chocolate chip cookies Zoey, Sienna, and I made this afternoon. Okay, fine, I didn’t really make them, but I did steal a few dark chocolate chips and gave them heaps of encouragement as they were making them.

Opening the container, I offer Satch one and admit without thinking, “You’re the first girl I’ve ever bought here.”

She pauses before taking a treat, her lips slowly rising into a closed-mouth smile. “Are you serious? ”

“I am.” I nod, shaking my head like even I can’t believe it.

I don’t know why I wanted to bring Satch here, but as soon as I asked her out on that date, this place popped into my head… and I couldn’t let it go.

I wanted to picnic with this girl in my favorite spot. And no other woman has ever made me want to do that.

Holy shit.

Stealing a cookie, I shove it into my mouth and hook my elbow around my bent knee.

“Mmm. These are good. Yours too?” she asks, but my mouth’s too full to answer her. “Coyote’s Cookies.” She grins, taking another bite.

“Coyote?” I ask, crumbs flying out of my mouth.

She giggles and brushes them off my short whiskers. “Yeah, Coyote. No one ever calls you that?”

She looks confused by why they wouldn’t… and I’m totally mystified. “Why would they call me Coyote?”

Tipping her head, I watch her eyebrows flicker as she stares at me like it’s totally obvious. “Wile E.” She raises her eyebrows. “You know… Wile E. Coyote.”

“Who?”

Her mouth pops open, her eyes going huge. “You’ve never heard of Wile E. Coyote?”

“Was he like… some cowboy or something?”

“No.” She laughs, touching my arm as she tips her head back. “I thought everyone knew who he was.”

“Fill me in, Satch. I’m feeling like a moron here.”

“No, no, of course you’re not. If anything, it shows that you are completely cool and modern, and I am stuck in the ’50s when that cartoon first came out. ”

“Oh, he’s a cartoon.” I nod, still having zero idea what she’s talking about.

“Yeah, my parents had a Looney Tunes DVD when I was little, and we’d watch it sometimes.

It was a bunch of cartoon characters, and I loved Wile E.

Coyote and the Road Runner the most.” She starts to laugh like she’s rewatching an episode in her mind, and I’m making a mental note to YouTube this guy.

“He’s this funny-looking coyote who is always out to get the Road Runner, who’s this super-fast bird that eludes him at every turn.

He thinks of these really inventive ways to try and catch him, and he fails every time.

It’s really funny.” She giggles some more, then looks at me with an impish grin. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

“Wily Coyote.” I lean back, resting my hand just behind her. “I like it.”

She grins, resting her head against my shoulder for a second, like she’s not even thinking about what she’s doing. “Can I call you Coyote?”

“Baby, you can call me whatever you want.”

She sits back and looks at me, her button nose wrinkling. “I’ll only ever call you good stuff.”

“I don’t know.” I click my tongue. “This Wily Coyote guy doesn’t exactly sound like a winner.”

My dry comment makes her snort with laughter, and I’m loving that sound even more than I did yesterday.

She tumbles against me, her cheek squishing into my shoulder, and I let out a loud coyote cry that bounces and echoes back to us.

This makes her laugh even harder, so I do it again and she soon joins me, the football stadium rich with our howling .

“I’m liking Coyote,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her forehead.

Damn, she smells so good.

I’m having the best time tonight.

I’ve never been on a date like this before, and I must be insane because this is so much fun. Maybe I’ve just never met a girl who I thought would appreciate it.

Until now.

“Wanna dance?” I softly ask, the idea hitting me out of the blue. But dancing’s romantic, right? Chicks love that kind of thing.

Her head pops off my shoulder, and she gives me a nervous wince. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think you are.”

I stand and hold my hand out to her. I have to wriggle my fingers and bat my eyelashes before she gives in with a soft laugh and lets me pull her to her feet.

Stepping off the blanket, I guide her into the center of the field and turn, giving her a dramatic bow that makes her laugh before pulling her against me.

She reaches up, resting her hand on my shoulder, and I hold on to her other one as if we’re about to waltz, but I don’t know how to do that shit, so we just kind of sway back and forth in the cold night air.

And then she starts to hum.

I don’t know what the tune is, but it sounds old-timey… jazz-ish. And it makes me smile. This girl can hold a tune, that’s obvious, and I lean my cheek on the top of her head, wrapping my arm more tightly around her and pulling our arms in to tuck them close.

Shit, this is romantic.

And I’m not even trying to make it that way .

It’s just happening because Satch makes me want to?—

Oh yes! Is that snow?

I glance up, a smile lighting my face as the first flake flutters past me.

It’s snowing.

It’s fucking snowing, and if that’s not movie-made romance, I don’t know what the hell is.

Satch’s head pops away from me, and she looks up with an excited gasp. “So pretty. I love it when it snows all gently like this.” Her nose wrinkles as a few white flakes land on her skin, then quickly disintegrate. She laughs and softly sings, “Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes.”

I recognize that tune, but I don’t know what it’s from.

She grins and whispers, “ The Sound of Music . ‘My Favorite Things.’”

“Okay,” I whisper, because talking at full volume right now just feels wrong. “Sing it to me.”

With a shy smile and a little more coaxing, she softly starts singing the song, and we sway under the snowflakes, hidden away in this perfect stadium bubble.

As the song comes to an end, I gaze down at her pretty face and have to ask, “You ready to let me kiss you yet, Satch?”

Brushing her teeth over her bottom lip, she stares up at me like I’m the only thing that matters right now.

Then she rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.