It was a nice perk that players didn’t have to fly commercial—it meant no waiting in line for security. Most NFL teams owned private jets to fly the players, the coaches, and all the equipment. Fallon had taken an earlier flight, and as I had the bye week coming up, we’d decided to take a few extra days after the game for a little R&R. He was staying at a hotel less than ten minutes away from mine.
“Most likely. So you’re not gonna be meeting anyone tonight for old times’ sake to shoot the shit?”
Sitting behind me, Rio snickered. “Why? You wanna ask him out on a date, McKinney?”
Anger darkened Harte’s face for a brief second. “Don’t be stupid. Just making conversation.” He met my eyes, and my heart stuttered. Was Harte interested in me? He looked away, out the window.
“Would you like something else, Mr. Sloane?” the flight attendant asked me with a flirty smile.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“Damn, Trick. Bet he’d initiate you into the mile-high club if you wanted,” Rio cackled when the attendant was out of earshot.
“Rio, shut up. You gotta make everything seem dirty.”
“Just callin’ it as I see it, brother.”
I tuned him out and thought about the days ahead. Having the extra night in town was a bonus. First, dinner with theteam, and later meeting Fallon at his hotel. Tomorrow would be training and dinner with the team, then bed check. After the game on Sunday, I planned a surprise—we were going to my little house on the beach for the bye week. Just the two of us.
I slept a little on the plane, and once I was settled in my room, I texted Fallon.
Here at the hotel. Gonna do a walk-through of the stadium, have dinner with the guys before coming to you.
I got an immediate response.
I’ll be waiting. Just picking up something quick for dinner.
Grinning to myself, I took a shower.
**
Only about two months since I’d left the Sharks and the field felt like foreign territory. No longer home. My transition to the Kings was now complete. I started jogging around the perimeter to get the feel and stood at midfield, gazing at the stands, while my teammates picked out their spots to familiarize themselves. Harte joined me, tossing a football from one hand to the other.
“Feels weird, right? I remember when I got traded from the Stallions, and we played them less than a month later. The fans were cool, but my old teammates were less than kind, calling me washed up, old man…shit like that.”
“Fuck that. You’re what, thirty-six?”
“Thirty-seven, but yeah. I’ll admit I’m getting up there in age, but plenty of quarterbacks play until they’re older.” That same darkness I spied on the plane re-entered his eyes. “Only I don’t feel like putting my life on hold anymore.”
“So you’ve got plans?” I did some stretches and lunges. Travel, even in first class, wasn’t fun when you were my size. Sitting on a plane for five hours plus was enough to stiffen me up.
“Professionally? I’m not sure. But personally, I’d like to meet someone. My divorce was hard—Maya and I had been together since college, and I’m used to living with someone. I don’t want to be alone.”
Harte was a good-looking guy, with thick blond hair and big blue eyes. A little shorter than me, he was muscular without being bulky, which kept him fast on his feet.
“I get that. Probably why I rushed to get married out of college and again after my divorce. I don’t like it either.”
His eyes twinkled. “I noticed. But you’re not dating anyone now, are you? I saw you broke up with the swimsuit model.”
I’d almost forgotten about Mimi—Fallon occupied every corner of my mind. “No. I’m not dating anyone. My focus is on the game and getting us to the Super Bowl. You might have one of those rings, but I don’t, and I intend to change that.”
We bumped fists and rejoined the team, listening to Coach’s instructions. He pointed to me.
“Trick. Let’s go through the Sharks’ weaknesses one more time, and then you all should go for dinner.”
“Okay. So my guess is JC’s gonna wanna throw big ’cause he’s a hot dog and he also wants to show me up. He’s got something to prove, so look for a lot of play action. Coach Morris loves screens, fakes…all that smoke-and-mirrors stuff. Plan for their defense to come at me at any and all times. I know their wide receiver Dale Carson likes to run to his right to catch a pass. If you break free of Andre Holbrook’s tackle, he just kind of givesup—he’s a diva and hates running hard—and you’ll have a good chance to score.”
