Page 90 of The Jack*ss in Class

“The question is, are you brave enough to live your own romance novel?”

The next evening, I settled into my first-class seat, courtesy of FlixNChill. They had arranged everything, the flight, the five-star hotel, the meetings with my agent, and the executives who wanted to turn my books into a streaming series.

I should have been focused on the biggest opportunity of my career...life. This could change everything. Instead, my thoughts kept drifting to Flynn, who would be arriving in LA tomorrow for his meetings with the Bandits.

My phone buzzed with a text just before takeoff.

Flynn: Don’t have too much fun in LA without me. But do have dirty dreams of me tonight. You know I’ll be dreaming of you.

If only he knew just how dirty my imagination was. Miranda Milan, the best-selling author whose identity was still a carefully guarded secret because she wrote smutty smut, had oh, so many dirty dreams, and they all currently starred a charming, flirty football player. The things I wanted to do with that man.

None of which I had any practical knowledge of.

Because Flynn didn’t know the real me.

Almost no one did.

And that made me sad.

As the plane climbed higher, I wondered which version of myself would return to Denver when this was all over. Tempest the student, Miranda the author, or someone new entirely. Someone brave enough to let Flynn see all of me.

The captain announced we’d reached cruising altitude, and I reclined my seat, closing my eyes.

LA was waiting. Flynn was waiting. And for once in my life, I was stepping into the unknown without a carefully plotted outline to guide me.

A STORM OF SHAKESPEARIAN PROPORTIONS

FLYNN

The LA sun hit different.

I’d been to California before, bowl games, family vacations when we were kids, but something about stepping off the plane at LAX as a potential Bandits draft pick made the sunshine feel more significant. Like it was spotlighting possibilities.

“Not bad,” Gryff said beside me, sunglasses already on, rolling his shoulders like he owned the place. “Could get used to this.”

Dad grunted noncommittally, but I caught his slight smile. He was impressed too. Hard not to be with palm trees swaying against a perfect blue sky. Well, mostly perfect. Some clouds hovered on the distant horizon, but they didn’t diminish the golden California glow.

“Coach Kingman, gentleman.” A man in a crisp suit approached, Bandits logo pin gleaming on his lapel. “I’m Marcus Wilson, player relations for the Bandits. Welcome to Los Angeles.”

“Thank you for having us,” Dad said, shaking his hand with the firm grip he’d taught all of us.

Marcus smiled, all perfect white teeth. “The dynamic duo. We’ve been watching you. Very impressive college careers, gentleman.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I resisted the urge to check it immediately, maintaining eye contact with Marcus as we exchanged pleasantries. But the moment he turned to lead us toward the exit, I glanced down.

Tempest: Have you landed yet? Can’t wait to see you.

A smile spread across my face before I could stop it.

“Something more interesting than the Bandits’ welcome wagon?” Dad’s voice was low but knowing.

I pocketed my phone. “Just Tempest wanting to know if we landed safely.”

Dad nodded, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Good. You should make plans to see her while we’re here. Better to have that settled so you can focus when you need to. The Bandits are putting on the whole dog and pony show for you boys.”

Gryff threw an arm around my shoulder. “Kingmans can handle a girl and football at the same time. The boys have proven that this last season.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, elbowing him as Marcus led us to a sleek black SUV with tinted windows.

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