Then the douchebag in the front row pipes up again, “Are you upset Miles won’t be here for you? Since he’s your boyfriend?”
Gritting my teeth, I glance at his name badge and level him with a flat glare. “Miles and I are friends, Bob. That’s it.”
“But you were seen having dinner with him in Chicago a couple months ago.”
“And?” I ask, lifting one eyebrow.
“And he was seen going into your hotel afterward.”
Jane steps in, which is lucky because I’m ready to go across this table and deck that overstepping asshole.
“Does anyone have any questions for Jordie about the actual game?” she asks in her cool, unflappable tone.
An older female reporter standing against the left wall lifts her hand, and I point at her since I can’t quite read her nametag.
“Jordie, can you tell me how it feels to have the very first WNFL Super Bowl in your home stadium?”
I offer her a grateful smile. “It feels amazing. Mr. and Mrs. Winslow and their team have done an outstanding job from theentertainment to the food to the facilities. I’m just happy to be a part of such a history-making event.” Winking, I say, “And I’m sure all the Houston fans will be thrilled when the Dragons win the first Super Bowl in their own house.”
The next question comes from a guy in the front row who appears as though he’s probably in college. He has brown eyes which are magnified behind thick glasses. “Um, Jordie, who would you say is the biggest influence on your football career?”
“Thanks for asking, Angelo,” I say. “I grew up watching Axel Broxton, and he’s the reason I wanted to become a receiver. So he influenced me without even knowing he was doing it.” The crowd chuckles. “But personally, I’d say my high school coach, Drake Cooper. We didn’t have a girls’ team, but he believed in me enough to give me a chance and let me play with the guys. I definitely had some natural talent when I came to him, but he honed and developed my skills, which led to me getting a full-ride scholarship to college. I wouldn’t be here without him, and I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”
Swallowing down my emotions, I add, “I’d also like to mention his wife, Lainey. If they gave an award for best coach’s wife, she would win hands down every year. She’s always been an amazing supporter of mine. And she knows the way to teenage athletes’ hearts—homemade cookies.”
That earns me more laughter from the reporters.
After I field a few more questions, Jane stands and claps her hand. “Okay, I think that’s enough for Jordie. I’ll bring in a couple defensive players now because the offense is headed to the practice field for the afternoon.”
I rise and give a friendly wave as cameras flash, resisting the urge to flip the bird at Bob, the nosy fucker. Stepping off the stage, I give Carrie a high-five as she comes up the stairs to take her turn.
Then I board the bus to the practice facility for the first of many practices this week.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The Super Bowl
Phoenix
“Come on, come on,” I mutter, standing in my family’s private suite at Dragons Stadium. It’s the fourth quarter of the WNFL Super Bowl, and our team is down by six points.
The Oklahoma City Tornadoes are backed up near their own end zone, and there are only three minutes left in the game. I’m a nervous goddamn wreck. I don’t remember ever being this worked up over a football game, not even when I was a player.
But I want this so much for Jordie. She deserves this win.
I haven’t been with my girlfriend since last Sunday, as she’s been in full-on football mode this week. There have been press conferences, practices, dinner with sponsors, and more practices. Hale Cosmetics is one of the donors, so I got to see her briefly one evening, though we were seated far from each other at the table. I text her every night and every morning, and I live for her responses. God, I’m such a sucker for my woman.
The Tornadoes’ quarterback takes the snap and drops back into the end zone, her eyes searching the field for a receiver. My entire butthole clenches up when I see an open tight end near the right hashmark.
“Fuck,” I bite out because I can see the second the QB spots her. She pulls her arm back to pass and…
BAM!
The quarterback goes down, and the Dragons’ defense piles on Carrie Broxton, who’d just come around the QB’s blind side and nailed her in the end zone for a safety.
“Holy shitballs,” Helix says from beside me. “Broxton knocked the snot out of her.”
My tension eases but only a tiny bit. Oklahoma City is up by four points now.
