Page 11

11

JAMIE

I hand the ball off to the ref and tug at the bottom of my jersey. Another first down, and I’m buzzing while shoulder bumping Chase. He’s too zoned in to the game to notice me as Jax and the defense take position for the next play.

It’s the best reaction he could have. If Jaxon can’t get the ball to me, Chase is who I want to take the touchdown.

We part, going to separate sides of the zone. The team sets up, and I pull in calm, slow breaths, flexing my toes in my cleats and fingers in my gloves. The linebacker across from me licks his lips, and I toss him a wink, unbothered by the intimidation. Soon enough, he’ll be chasing after me.

The snap comes quickly. I’m already moving, feet digging into the turf. Mr. Dry Lips mirrors me, his shoulders back and gaze intense.

I explode into action, cutting hard to the outside. Jax is rolling right, searching through the moving bodies in front of him. He’s patient and calm. It’s what makes him the best QB in the league, and right now, he’s waiting for me to get clear.

Throwing a quick jab step to the inside, I watch for the moment the defender loses me and push my legs harder, leaving him a step behind. The ball is already sailing through the cooling evening air when I turn my head to track it. My pace is fast enough that for half a second, I worry whether I’ll be able to stop once I’ve slid into the end zone or if I’ll ram face first into the barriers.

The crowd screams, and I bundle the noise up, shovelling it down into my chest. My cleats rip into the turf as I clear yard after yard until, finally, the ball drops.

I catch it in one hand before cradling it into my chest at the same moment the defender dives for me. He misses, only succeeding in making me stumble slightly.

Once I’ve gained my balance, I’m gone again. One defender has a bit of an angle to attempt to take me down, but I cut back inside, leaving him flailing. The end zone opens up in front of me, and I cross the line untouched, pumping the ball into the air.

Chase and the closest players to me run up as I cradle my invisible bow and shoot an arrow straight at Jaxon. The fans roar when he points back at me and mouths, “All you.”

It’s a tradition that started at the beginning of this season, and while the media doesn’t give a shit about the team, they do get quite a kick out of our little bromance. Jaxison is our supposed couple name.

I head to the sidelines and get a slap on the back from Coach.

“Good job out there, Bateman. Eyes open and legs loose,” he says with a dip of his chin.

“Thanks, Coach. Jax found me easily.”

Taking a seat on the bench, I turn away the jacket offered to me and lean forward, eyes on the Edmonton QB as their offense sets up. It’s growing colder after sunset now, but we’re a far way off from the frozen October nights I’m craving.

Jaxon drops down beside me and squirts water onto his face. “Three in a row.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I warn.

Odds are we won’t be on the field again tonight. Not unless the other team can somehow pull off a miracle and double their thirteen points to reach our thirty-one with only a minute left on the clock.

“Think we’ve got a chance this season? Beat the odds and all that?” he asks, his gaze glued to the rival QB when he passes the ball off for a run play.

His question floats into the air without a response from me. We’re both too focused on what’s happening now to bother with talk.

Our defense is hungry tonight. Famished, even.

Zach Mercer may very well be taking the title of best defensive tackle in the league by the end of the season. Watching his eyes gloss over as he tears through the other team’s offense is both terrifying and exciting.

But it’s nothing compared to the sight of him spotting the running back, who’s mistakenly landed himself in his direct path and barrelling into him. He goes down with what appears to be minimal effort on Zach’s part. Our defensive tackle bares his teeth at the running back and pounds his chest, towering over him.

When the crowd grows in volume, I laugh in disbelief because Zach’s hand isn’t empty.

“Crazy fucker just recovered another fumble,” Jax notes before standing and shifting to talk with Coach about what his plan is for our next play.

I almost feel bad for Edmonton. Getting whooped by a team estimated to finish the season third from last place isn’t a confidence booster.

At the same time, I’m selfish enough to be grateful for the monster win. Especially when I know that I’ll be telling Blakely all about it once this game is over and she arrives.

My hair is still wet from my post-game shower when I walk Blakely out of the elevator and down the hall to Graham’s office.

She’s put on a brave face, but I caught the slight tremble of her hands when she grabbed the railing in the elevator. I know nothing will happen to her where we’re going, but she doesn’t share that confidence, and I don’t expect her to.

We’re about to enter a room full of businessmen who she’s never met before. I’m desensitized to these situations because of the way I was raised and how many times I’ve been in this exact same spot, whereas most people are and should be wary. My dad didn’t stop insisting on joining me in business meetings until my second season for this very reason.

You never know if someone with more power than you is going to flex it and force you into a situation you’re not comfortable being in. I know myself well enough now to be able to recognize when I’m uncomfortable with agreeing just because I’m being pressured to, but I had to get pushed around a few times to be able to find that confidence.

I’d offer Blakely my hand if I didn’t think she would bite it clean off.

For now, I’ll offer her my words and hope that they have the same supportive payoff as a physical touch would.

“The guys in there are probably more scared of you than you are of them,” I offer, keeping my words light.

“If you’re trying to compare a room full of men to a bear I’ve stumbled upon in the woods, I’m sorry to say that I’d rather choose the bear.”

“So would I,” I admit.

She looks over at me, biting at the inside of her cheek. I point at the office at the end of the hall and risk leaning closer.

“I remember a few years back, my mom got all my female cousins bear spray for Christmas and told them to always keep it with them. My uncles took over the tradition and get replacements for them every year. None of my cousins have ever had to use theirs, but it was never really for bears. So, yeah, I’d choose the animal over the man any day,” I explain, lowering my tone. “Doesn’t matter my size or position on this team. They’re freaky to me too.”

Her features soften. “If your cousins used bear spray on someone, they’d be charged.”

I curl my fingers, nails scraping my palm as I avoid touching her. “One of us would be catching a charge regardless, Bandit. Them or me. It would be picking and choosing at that point.”

Blakely stares at me in silence for a moment, her lips parting on a puffed exhale. Some colour returns to her cheeks for the first time tonight, and that has my chest puffing a smidge, proud that I was able to help even a little.

“You’re a good cousin, Jamie,” she murmurs.

“One day, I’ll prove that I’m more than that. But I’ll take it. Thank you.”

She nods slightly. “Will this meeting take long? I haven’t told Nate about any of this yet. I’m hoping that after this, I’ll be able to. He’s not usually up too late. Even on Saturdays.”

“No. I’ll make sure it’s right to the point. We’ll get you home quick,” I swear.

The toes of her simple black flats scuff the floor as she taps it and adjusts her dark-washed jeans. “You’re going to offer to drive me home again, aren’t you?”

Dropping my head an inch, I lean in close enough to catch a whiff of vanilla. I capture her eyes in an easy stare and grin.

“Yeah, I’m going to offer to drive you home. Gonna keep asking until you agree.”

I half expect her to turn me down. Instead, she proves once again that over the course of this marriage, I’m going to be kept on my toes.

“We’ll see.”

I’m left standing in the hallway, watching as she pulls her shoulders back and struts the rest of the way to the office door. With a glance over her shoulder, she has me laughing .

“Are you coming? You’re not off to a great start, Pretty Boy,” she says flippantly.

I raise a hand to my chest and hold it there in case she uses whatever voodoo magic she’s tapped into to demand my heart leap through its cage and into her palm.

“Do you take apologies in the form of words or sacrifices?”

“Surely that would depend on the sacrifice.”

“What type do you prefer? The fluffy bunny kind or the bloody heart kind?”

She rolls her eyes, a muscle in her cheek twitching. “Are those my only two options?”

“Give me another one.”

We’re stalled in front of the office, but I don’t have it in me to stop this conversation in exchange for a stuffy business meeting. Not until I have to make that call.

“Fine,” she says, tilting her head like she’s deep in thought. “How about a year’s supply of tea? Or a public declaration of undying loyalty? I could accept skywriting as well.”

I smirk, leaning on my back foot. “Skywriting, huh? Well, as long as you’re not asking for much.”

She shrugs, her coy attitude back in full swing. “Bunnies are cute, and bloody hearts are messy. Tea is practical. And skywriting? Timeless.”

I store that info away. “What’s your favourite kind of tea?”

“Peppermint. I hate ginger.”

“And no coffee?”

“Are you keeping a list of answers to all of these questions somewhere?” she counters.

I tap my temple. “It’s all up here, baby. In a very organized filing cabinet with your name on it.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“Why? Is it making you fall for me already?”

She huffs, turning to give me her back. I chuckle while eating the space between us with long strides. When I reach her, I brace a hand on the wall beside the door, bracketing her with my chest while not touching her directly. We’re a foot from the door now; every second we stay like this is another that we risk being ripped open. I’m all for seizing the opportunity to show everyone how well we’re already doing together, but Blakely . . .

She’s breathing heavily, her arms flat at her sides. I’m a bastard because instead of stepping back to give her space, I dip my head just enough that I can catch that vanilla scent again.

“For the benefit of our agreement, I recommend acting like you are,” I rasp, clenching my jaw to keep from rubbing my cheek against her hair like a dog. “Or like you could. You might not be a mega fan, but I’ll convince them that I can make you one if they pick up on anything. All you have to do is pretend that you can stand to be this close to me long enough to make this work.”

Her green eyes are deep and guarded when she slowly turns her head and stares up at me. I almost reach for my chest again. Not out of fear of her commanding my heart to fall into her hand, but that I’ll end up ripping it out myself and gifting it to her.

“Thank you for making it easy, Pretty Boy.”