Page 15 of Broken Play
"We'll be around each other quite a bit while I'm coming up to speed, so what happened in Denver stays between us, okay?"
I lift my hands and let them fall back to my legs. "J.D. knows. He knew as soon as he saw you. He recognized you from the photos from the club, but you won't hear a peep from me."
"Good. What can I do to make this transition from Denver easier on you?" she asks as her eyes flit tothe window.
"This is basically my hometown, so I'm good unless you can acquire a super-athletic wide receiver."
"Make a list of suggestions, and we'll go over it tomorrow. Why do you think they would fit into this organization? How would they complement you or the scheme your brother runs?"
"Okay, there is one thing you can help me with now. How about you teach me to play tennis better, and I'll teach you about football?"
Right when she's about to answer, the owner, her dad, walks in. "Sounds like a great idea to me. Why don't you and your family come over for dinner tonight?"
"I don't have a family, sir."
"Nonsense. J.D. said you all have a large family. Gather up as many of them as you can and come over tonight. It's mandatory."
Sutton shakes her head in disbelief when I say, "I'm not sure who I need to listen to, Sutton or you."
"Greyson, Sutton's the boss. Everyone reports to her. She's smart and determined; that's why I chose her to lead this team. I won't be around much."
I should be listening, but all I can think about is that sultry kiss we shared after my playoff win.
EIGHT
SUTTON - THE FOLLOWING WEEK
All the players sit in an auditorium-style room with navy blue leather chairs. There's a huge screen to pull down like a professor and a permanent whiteboard.
It's the first day of training camp, and rookie orientation lasts for three days before the existing players—except for their quarterback—return. Greyson needs to be here since he's the leader on the field.
Greyson startles me as he leans against the door frame. "Look who's here early. Ready for your big debut?" His tone is so easy, making me feel welcome. He shuts off the lights and saunters over as his fingers crawl into mine. I take an inward breath, wanting to give in to this connection zipping between us. It reminds me of how, last week at dinner, my dad suggested a visual training exercise, lining me up as the center. My breath hitched when I felt the warmth of Greyson's hands between my legs.
Resisting temptation will be like climbing the Himalayas.
Greyson leads me to a seat. "Sit. I have something to show you." He releases my hand and presses a remote with his other hand. "Forget about the list of wide receivers I gave you. This is what I need, and I think Redham can betheone."
"How can you know?"
Pressing play, he brings Marquis Redham up on the screen. "Watch how he watches the quarterback's eyes instead of just running to a spot on the field. It's instinct and trust. He trusts his high school QB. QB is short for quarterback."
I manage a laugh. "I'mnotan idiot."
"You asked J.D. at dinner."
"That was before I studied. Now I know."
Greyson squeezes my knee, allowing his hand to linger a second too long before he snatches it away. The spot tingles, and I can't fight the flutter deep in my chest. I bite back a giddy smile—completely and utterly smitten. He continues to show me college tape of Redham and says, "See, same thing." He looks at me with longing eyes, and I don't know if he wants Redham as his number one receiver or if he wants me.
It's amazing to me that Denver traded him. He's thorough, with attention to detail. "So, what's the plan?"
"I'm going to do my best to help him settle in. We're both new to this, figuring things out as we go. Until my house is ready, I'm pulling out all the stops—dinners together, video game marathons, maybe even a little horseback riding—anything to help him feel at home and trust me. You're always welcome."
I give him ayou-are-such-a-flirt grin. "Okay, but let's not play favorites before you've given everyone a chance."
"Anything for you, Boss," he says with a wink and afull-of-himselfsmirk.
J.D. arrives with a clipboard and says, "What's going on here?"
