Page 4 of Lucky Baller
“Tessa,” I say, throwing her name out there.
“What about her?” he asks, standing taller and squaring his shoulders.
“Can I get her number?”
“Did you ask her for it?”
“Yeah, she shot me down.”
A slow grin tilts his lips. “Did she now?”
“Laugh it up,” I say with a grin of my own. “Come on, Coach,” I urge him.
“Look, Landon, you seem like a good guy. Tessa is my wife’s best friend and a close friend of mine, as well. I’m not just going to hand her number over. You want her, you have to work for her.” He stares me down, begging me to argue with him.
“How do you expect me to do that? I don’t even know her last name. The only connection I have to her is you.” I’m well aware I’m starting to sound desperate and, in a way, I am. I can’t break my perfect record. She can’t be the first woman to ever turn me down. That just won’t do.
“Fine, I’ll throw you a bone. Her name is Tessa Deaton.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his shorts, and the bastard full-on grins at me. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“Guy code and all that. Come on, man. You have to give me more than that.”
“I don’t have to do anything but love my wife and son. Well, and pay taxes.” I give him a pleading look, and he sighs. “Fine, she works with my wife at the Safe Haven Animal Shelter. That’s all you’re getting, so don’t ask for more from me. And”—he points his index finger at me—“don’t make me regret telling you.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say, holding up three fingers.
“Right. Like I believe you were ever a Scout,” he scoffs.
“Okay, so maybe I was never a Boy Scout, but I can promise you I’m not some kind of crazy stalker.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like I said, don’t make me regret it, and we’re good.”
It’s not like he’s my actual coach; he’s the kicking coach. He can’t torture me on the field. “Done.” I jog off to the locker room to shower and head to the hotel to get my shit and go home.
“Where’s the fire?” Case Riley, our center, asks as I’m tossing my shit in my bag.
“No fire. Just ready to get home.”
“We hitting up Henry’s tonight?”
Henry’s is a small bar close to the stadium. I’m not sure when or how it got started, but he has a side entrance with a key code. The players enter there into a private room. We have our own bartender, music, big-screen TVs, the whole nine yards. If we want to just slip away out of the limelight but still feel normal, Henry’s is the place to go. The place stays packed, both for its location to the stadium and for the players who decide to venture out into the public area of the bar. Cleat chasers make it their stomping grounds.
“Maybe.” I’m not committing until I talk to her. I might have better options. And if not, tonight, I’m going to stay hidden, no matter how hard Case tries to convince me otherwise. A couple of beers and then my big, comfy bed. That is the exciting life of a professional quarterback.
“Eight,” he calls after me. I’ve already got my bag thrown over my shoulder and am heading toward the door. I have a phone call to make.
Walking into my condo, I drop my bags by the door. Three long weeks away, but we’re ready. The team is meshing, and I see good things in our future. I also see my ass sleeping in my ultra-soft bed for the next twenty-four hours. Walking down the hall to my room, I flop back onto the bed. Damn, it’s good to be home.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I hold it in the air over my face and pull up my search engine. I type inSafe Haven Animal Shelterand wait for the results. Clicking on their website, I see Jeremy’s wife, Autumn, and Tessa smiling back at me. I skim through the main page until I get to the bottom and findContact Us. Clicking that, the number pops up, and my phone asks me if I want to call.
Hell yes, I do.
“Safe Haven Animal Shelter, this is Tessa.” Her sweet voice greets me.
“Hey, Tessa, it’s Landon.”
“I’m sorry, who?” I can hear the confusion in her voice, which is like a kick in the balls.
“Landon Barker.” I wait, letting my name sink in.
