Page 18 of Gridlocked on the Gridiron

The moment was broken when a flash went off. Lucia spun around, eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher the shape in the shadows before them. Another flash.

“Ignore it,” Colton whispered gruffly. Her stomach flipped. At what? She wasn’t sure. “We passed my house on the way here. They must’ve been waiting and followed us. I’ll have some of my people work on keeping those off the internet.”

The media made her jumpy, and she didn’t like the idea of them taking pictures of her, but she could hardly focus on that with Colton beside her. Colton shut the car door behind her, a hand on her lower back, ushering her toward her front door as she located her keys in her purse.

“Oh, you don’t have to walk me. It’s just right there.”

“Shut up, Moretti. We’re already halfway there.”

He was right. It only took them a few strides to reach the three steps that led to her little stoop. She pulled her keys out and pushed them into the doorknob as another flash went off behind them. She really hoped the pictures were just of Colton, but the sinking in her stomach made her think otherwise.

Before twisting the doorknob, she turned to look at him again, flushing when she realized his eyes were already on her. “Thank you again.”

His eyes searched her face for a second before he responded, “Goodnight, Moretti.”

She turned the knob, went inside, and shut the door. She rested her forehead on it as she locked it, closing her eyes and cursing her damn car.

Chapter eight

Colton

Colton’s chest had been aching ever since he’d left Lucia at her house the night before. Something about the way she’d looked at him on her porch had made his whole body react, his heartbeat increasing. It pissed him off.

They still hadn’t talked about that night on the third floor, though he supposed there wasn’t anything to say. He really needed to keep his head in the game and stop focusing on Lucia’s every little movement. How had he gone from convinced she was the enemy to being stupidly attracted to her in the course of a couple of weeks?

He thought a little bickering might do him good, a comment about her messy office already on his tongue; until he caught sight of her through the slightly open door. She was devastating.

Her face was puffy and red, tears streaming down her cheeks no matter how much she patted them away with tissues. When her eyes flicked to him, she swiveled her chair around so he couldn’t see her.

What’d happened? She’d seemed fine when he’d dropped her off the night before. Had he said something? No, he found it hard to believe he was the cause of this. She was much too strong to care about any of his useless jabs.

She must’ve still been upset about her breakup with Clark, then. He supposed that sealed it for him that she’d been honest the entire time. He could finally admit to himself that, in all likelihood, she was probably not a spy for Max Clark. Just a heartbroken ex-fiancée.

He knew he should leave and give her the privacy she obviously wanted, but his feet started moving toward her before he could even think. He kneeled before her, pushing away the urge to reach for her face.

“What’s wrong?”

The words came out gruffer than he’d intended, and she flinched. Fuck it.

He reached out, lifting her chin so he could meet her eyes. “What’s wrong, Lucia?”

She opened her phone and handed it to him, closing her eyes as if scared of his reaction. He looked at the screen, noting the somewhat grainy photo. He pinched the screen, seeing the headline at the same time he recognized the people in the picture.

It was him and Lucia gazing into each other’s eyes. Taken in front of her house the night before.

“Fuck.”

She shook, sobbing quietly as he read the headline. The words “Sports Analyst Makes Quarterback-Hopping an Olympic Sport: Vipers QB ex-fiancée shares a moment with Sabers star” glared up at him.

Whoever wrote that was a piece of shit. And to make matters worse, a moment later, a text message from Max fucking Clark came in as a banner at the top of her screen.

“You’re pathetic,” it read. He clenched her phone so tightly that the power-off screen greeted him after a few seconds.

How dare Clark talk to her like that. As if he hadn’t done enough. Had he been sending her messages like this the entire time, or was this a new development because of the news?

He didn’t have time to think through it all, placing the phone onto her desk and taking both of her hands in one of his. He placed his other hand on her cheek, wiping away the moisture that rested there.

“Shh, I know. I know. I’m so sorry, Lucia. This is all wrong.” He glided his thumb over her soft cheek again. “They’re assholes, all of them.” He held her like that for a minute, tentatively brushing away new tears that sprung up.

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