Page 8 of False Start
His belly bounces as he chuckles and looks around the old cabin. “I have fond memories of me and your dad’s college days here.”
Dad has been gone five years, but Otto still misses his best friend. “He did, too. It’s why he brought us here as much as he could.”
He turns toward the door and hooks a thumb toward the party outside. “It’s good you’re keeping up the tradition. I’m going to head back to New Orleans early in the morning, but I wanted to stop by and see my eldest goddaughter.”
“You mean your favorite goddaughter,” I correct.
It draws a good laugh from him. “I have two favorite goddaughters, smart ass.” He pauses and looks at me for a long moment before he smirks. “Something going on with you and Hudson?”
“He’s a football player.”
“He hasn’t stopped talking about you. It seems you left a lasting impression on Bryant after insulting him.”
“That doesn’t say very much about him, does it?”
Before he can respond, Zina sticks her head in the door and smiles at us. “Bryant and Ben are here,” she says to me.
Coach snorts.
“Why would I care?” I ask a little too quickly.
Zina looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I probably have because I actually grew a little excited when I heard his name. “Right.”
“I’m going to let you kids be kids. Be safe,” Otto says and motions us over for a bear hug.
After he leaves the cabin, Zina pulls me by the hand and leads me to the small fire outside the cabin. We don’t allow many people to come back here, and I’m not surprised to find only two guests, Bryant and Ben. Even from across the fire, I can tell the QB is tired, but he casts the most beautiful smile in my direction. Before I can analyze my use of an adjective or my penchant for his smile, Ben cups his hands around his mouth. “Hale-0, Chicken Shit Hudson-1.”
“It was one game,” I argue, but I find I’m genuinely happy about Bryant’s improvements. And it might be more than my fan status. I think I’m becoming a personal fan of his, and I don’t even need to go there.
Bryant smirks from across the fire. “Coach Z, you should’ve seen your handy work.”
“Coach Z?” I ask and walk over to the log to take a seat beside him.
“I’ve been playing football since I was five, and I’ve been primed to play quarterback since the sixth grade. I’ve never had another Coach get through to me like you did.”
“It’s because I have boobs.”
Zina snorts, Bryant turns pink and looks away, and Ben laughs as he says, “She’s got you there.”
Without looking away from the fire, Bryant clears his throat. “Your theory is boobs are more effective than years of training, years of coaching experience, and an aging man swearing and insulting his players until they do something the coach likes?”
“Twenty-five percent, Chicken Shit.”
If he’s offended by my nickname, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he seems amused by me. “They said your dad was a hard ass, too. He wasn’t as beautiful though.”
I wish I didn’t like Bryant’s smile so much. I can see how women could be easily charmed by him. He’s talented, gorgeous, intelligent, and driven. He’s also sincere and doesn’t have his head stuck up his own ass like a lot of athletes. “Does that line usually work for you?”
He leans his head back and a bark of laughter escapes him. “I don’t have a problem getting laid if I want it.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m sure. I bet the trophy wives are lining up for you.”
The sobering expression on his face accompanies the shrug. “Unfortunately, the gold diggers are present at every practice and game. I can smell them a mile away though.”
I feel bad for bringing it up. It’s awful for anyone to have to deal with this. “My dad was lucky to find my mom, but I can’t tell you how many players we saw down and out over the years because of that exact type of woman.”
“It makes dating more difficult than it already is. It’s why I don’t date,” he says.
