Page 24 of Tight Spot

“Okay.”

His brows tugged together. “You know.”

“I did a quick search online when I was in the bathroom.”

He sucked in air between his teeth and his massive shoulders rose and dropped with a heavy breath.

“Does that make you mad?”

“Only that it’s out there, and it happened at all. So okay, Crystal. She won’t be a problem anymore, but she’s caused enough. Actually, might be more fair to say that because I kept hoping she’d get her shit together, I caused enough trouble. Enough that my coaches are still pissed at me and our team’s general manager, who’s best friends with the owner, wants to see some changes out of me. I even understand it. The professional sports organizations, especially football, have put in a lot of work over the years to show our humanity, to prove we’re good men and not troublemakers. So when someone gets in trouble, we have to bear the brunt of it.”

“How does a girlfriend help?” I popped a piece of calamari into my mouth and chewed.

“Because it shows I’m not a wildcard. Shows I’ve got something to work for off the field. Gives people hope I’m settling down or some shit.” He sneered then, and while it wasn’t directed at me, he let his anger at the whole situation slip.

“You don’t want a relationship.”

“I will never get married.” He reached for his wine, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he white-knuckled the thin glass, or probably crystal, stem a bit too hard. “Any real relationship is eventually going to want someone who begins to lean that way. I’m not going to lead them on or hurt anyone.”

It was enough for me to not ask why.

He was entitled to his secrets.

I tried to quell the disappointment that rose. Meredith said he was perfect for me. Had she meant forever, or for my short-term goals? He spoke with such conviction there was no doubt he believed every word he said. I’d try to pry the truth and why Meredith was so sure of him when she finally answered my phone calls.

Probably after her vacation, knowing my luck.

“Okay. So, let’s say I agree to this. How long are we talking?”

“At least through the beginning of the season.”

And that would be?

He chuckled at whatever expression I gave. “Right. Pre-season starts in July. We’re doing off-season workouts now, but we don’t go to camp until the end of July. Pre-season games start almost right after in August.”

“And it ends?”

“January if we don’t make it to the Super Bowl again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, Hailey.” He grinned, and it was disarmingly cute. Sweet. Like he was fully amused by me and my lack of knowledge. Made it a lot harder to not help myself to what he suggested earlier.

Couldn’t be too hard—or embarrassing—to climb over a table to get to him.

“Oh. Well, congratulations on that.”

He chuckled then and showed me a full smile of teeth and a gleam in his eye.

“Here’s my question for you.” He set down his wine and pushed away his appetizer plate. Leaning forward with his forearms on the table, he hooked his two index fingers together. “Meredith said you’d be perfect for me. That you want something short-term. So, if you help me out with this, what do you want from me?”

It was the moment of the hour. My throat was suddenly stuffed with cotton, and the preparation I went through in the restroom burned my tongue.

Tell him. All I had to do was open my mouth to tell him.

Risk it all on a stranger.

I took a sip of my water, not wine, because I couldn’t lose any more sense, and licked a droplet off my lip.

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