Page 145 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Your ass is part of my pre-game ritual,” I countered, but picked up his phone from the counter. “Nothing from Gryff. Just Jules asking if the Sports Network cameras ever show the family section, because she wants to make sure her makeup is perfect when they pan to her.”

Flynn’s dad and sister were flying in for the game andscheduled to land in a few hours. I was anxious to ask Jules how her first semester of college was going.

Flynn snorted. “Tell her to focus on cheering, not preening. This isn’t a fashion show.”

I sent Jules a different, kinder message, then leaned against the island, sipping my coffee and soaking in the moment. It was all so... domestic, and I was loving it.

Flynn’s eldest brother, Chris, gave us the house as Flynn’s welcome to the big leagues gift. Which still absolutely floored me. He’d given one to Gryff too, right across the street. They’d said it was a family tradition.

Our house, still new enough that the phrase sent a little thrill through me, was the perfect blend of both of us. My colorful throw pillows on his sleek leather couch. My book collection filling the built-in shelves he’d insisted the place needed. Photos of both our families mixed together on the walls.

And outside, a backyard that would soon welcome an incredibly special donkey.

“Nervous?” I asked as Flynn slid a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me.

He shrugged, but the movement was too controlled to be casual. “First official game as a Bandit. First time the fans paid actual money to see what I can do. First time playing where it actually counts in the pros.”

“You and Gryff were literally born for this,” I reminded him. “The Bandits are lucky to have both Kingman twins on their roster.”

“Lucky or smart,” Flynn grinned, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

My phone chimed with an incoming FaceTime call,the screen displaying “AbuelaNovela.” I propped it against the fruit bowl and accepted.

“Buenos días, mis amores.” Abuela’s face filled the screen, resplendent as always in full makeup despite the early hour. “Are you ready for the big day?”

“Which one?” Flynn asked, leaning into frame. “My first real pro game or Tempest’s book release on Tuesday?”

“Both, of course,” Abuela declared, waving away the question. “They are equally important milestones.”

The camera angle shifted wildly as Abuela adjusted her phone, then steadied on a familiar gray face with perked ears.

“Burrito,” I exclaimed. “Hi, baby.”

The donkey brayed at the sound of my voice, pushing his nose closer to the screen. Flynn laughed and waved.

“He misses you,” Abuela said, reappearing in frame. “But the transport arrangements are all confirmed for next month. Your paddock installation is complete?”

“All done,” Flynn confirmed. “The yard is officially Burrito-proof. Or at least, that’s what the contractor promised. I have my doubts about any enclosure being truly Burrito-proof.”

“He has grown into quite the little escape artist,” Abuela agreed fondly. “Now go. Prepare. Conquer. We will be watching the game and sending all our energy.”

After a long, very wet, extremely hot, very orgasmic shower, I sent Flynn off to the stadium, and got ready to attend my very first football game. Flynn had gotten me more Bandit’s t-shirts, jackets, hats, and even some socksto wear than any one person needed in their lifetime. But I chose the jersey with his name and number and paired it with some jeans, and a cute pair of sparkly ballet flats.

The family section at Bandits Stadium was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Here, in this reserved section of luxury boxes, the families and partners of players were treated like minor celebrities themselves.

“Tempest, Over here.” Vanessa Martinez, waved me over to where she sat with several other women. Vanessa’s husband played tight end, and she’d appointed herself my unofficial guide to PAL life.

PAL I’d learned stood for Partners and Lovers, the Bandits’ more inclusive version of the traditional WAGs, Wives and Girlfriends, designation. I’d been surprised and grateful for how welcoming they’d all been, especially once they’d realized I was Miranda Milan.

Jules, Artemis, and I headed over, while Coach Bridger went over to chat with Flynn and Gryff’s agent, Mac Jerry.

“You all are just in time,” Vanessa said as I slid into the seat she’d saved. “They’re about to announce the starting lineup.”

Beside her, Jade Wilson nudged my arm. “I finished your book last night. That scene in chapter seventeen? Girl. I had to take a cold shower.”

I laughed, no longer embarrassed by such comments. “Wait until you read the next one. I had some very thorough research assistance.”

“I bet you did,” Jade winked. “Your man seems very... dedicated.”

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