Page 29 of Mad Rivals
They both look at me in surprise, and okay, fine. Maybe that was a tad aggressive. But I stand by my words. I’m not backing down.
“Clementine,” he says, ignoring me. “What an interesting name.”
“It was my great-grandmother’s name. My mom was very close to her,” she says. “Madden is an interesting name, too.”
“Named after John Madden. One of my father’s favorite football figures.”
“Did he ever play?” Clem asks, and I hate how easy conversation is for them when I feel like I’ve struggled through every sentence I’ve strung together with him.
Madden shakes his head. “College, yes. Pro, no. He was drafted and sustained an injury during training camp that ended his playing days.”
“That’s awful,” Clem says.
I’m not sure why that piques my curiosity even more. Why would his parents choose to name him after someone who was injured and never even got to play? The man had quite an amazing career as a coach and broadcaster after that, so maybe that’s why. Plus, you know, the video games.
I sit silently and take another bite of my sandwich, attempting to be a bit more ladylike this time.
“What about you? How much longer do you plan to play?” Clem asks.
He glances up and sort of freezes for a beat, and then he shrugs. “I’ve got one year left on my contract. We’ll see how San Diego treats me.”
I knew he was recently traded to San Diego, so he’ll probably be moving there. Good. A little distance between us wouldn’t hurt things. And I can use my status as a diehard Bears fan to push his buttons.
Though we do have some clients in California…
I immediately push the thoughts out of my brain. I certainly don’t want to leave this city I love so much for a place where literally the only person I know is Madden fucking Bradley.
His eyes sweep over to mine, and I can tell he’s wondering what I’m thinking.
I’ll never admit that deep down, I’m wondering how hard it would be to convince my dad that there’s no time like the present to get a move on the San Diego market.
CHAPTER 13: Kennedy Van Buren
You Think I’m Hot?
We’re walking back to the office, and Madden is far behind in the rearview when Clem asks, “What the hell was that?”
“I’m sorry?” I say it like a question, asking what she’s talking about.
“The heat between you and that man! Whew! It was enough to give me the sweats.”
“That’s just because you’re wearing a sweater like it’s twelve degrees outside, and today is sunny and seventy.”
“I hate Chicago weather,” she mutters. “I was freezing this morning when I chose my outfit, okay?”
I laugh.
“You’re avoiding the question, ma’am,” she points out.
“I know I am.”
“So what’s going on?” she presses.
“God, he’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?” I finally groan.
“Absolutely the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. And he clearly has the hots for you. You should’ve seen the way he was eyeballing your tits when you had lettuce all over them.”
“Maybe he has a thing for lettuce,” I mutter petulantly.
