Right. I’m just a really big fan of the environment. I mean, Iam.But also, after I almost kissed my fucking coach the other day, it seems prudent to have a chaperone. And nothing kills the mood quite like Larsen yapping for twenty minutes about how many bananas are too many for one smoothie as we drove through rush-hour traffic.
Which is why I panic-invited him and Li after I offered Finley a ride last night during our standard dinner-and-trivia-practice session.
Li holds back, waiting for me to head in. “You okay?”
Li is a genuinely good guy and one of the best players I’ve ever been paired with. He also has the patience of a saint, which explains how he can spend as much time as he does with Larsen. That said, he’s made his opinions on me and Coach Blake very clear.
Not that I disagree—I’m just doing a poor job of staying away.
“I’m ready for this competition to be done. We’ve got actual games to worry about. We shouldn’t be wasting our time with this.”
“I thought you were enjoying it.”
“Enjoying something and it being a good idea are two very different things,” I reply. “In fact, I’ve found I rarely enjoy the things that are best for me. Take sprints and ice baths, for example.”
“Yeah,” Li agrees, though his voice is low. “Sometimes, I just wish there was a way to get what I want without it being a bad decision.”
“Don’t we all.”
Sabrina welcomes us as we head into the media room of the football team’s practice facility, and a few minutes later, she calls the whole group together. Much like last time, she says a few words before handing it over to Mr. Peterson. This time, though, the owners of the Stallions and the Mountaineers are with him, welcoming fans from three of Colorado’s professional teams.
“That’s Charlotte’s dad,” Finley whispers, sliding up next to me as the owner of the Stallions thanks his players and the fans for a great season.
“No shit?” I ask. “I didn’t realize she was a Langford.”
“Yeah. She and her twin brother have spent their entire lives in the spotlight.”
Sabrina takes over again, explaining the Mile-High Matchup event, where our existing teams are paired with two other pro athletes to compete in an obstacle course relay, a reaction drill, Colorado trivia, and a coordination task. After announcing the teams, she directs us to get to know one another while we put on the provided team jerseys.
Finley and I walk toward the black mesh jerseys, each grabbing one.
“Beckett Kane, how the hell are you?” Callan Devine, one of the top quarterbacks in pro football, asks as he joins Finley and me.
“Good. I can’t believe we’re on the same team. What’s it been, six years?” I ask, shaking his hand and pulling him in for a hug.
“Seven,” he answers with a smile. “If you can believe that.”
“Damn, we’re getting old,” I reply.
Callan and I were in Florida at the same time for a few years, and as top players in our respective sports, we ran in the same circles. It’ll be fun to be back in the same state as him.
“Hey,” the man I assume is our fourth says. “I’m Jameson.”
He’s almost my height, and he’s here, so he’s clearly an athlete in Colorado, but I don’t recognize him.
“Good to see you again.” Callan gives him a handshake and a hug as well. “I saw you won your tournament last weekend in California, congrats.”
Noticing Finley is passively watching this exchange, I nudge her forward. “I’m sure you both know Coach Finley Blake.”
“Oh, yes, I’m justsofamous.” Finley shoots me a smirk as she shakes their hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“I think my wife might’ve bribed your media person to put me on your team,” Jameson confesses. “She’s a huge fan after that dance routine you put on.”
“You’ll have to bring her to a game someday. I love meeting fans.” Finley is clearly in full professional mode. She tilts her head, taking him in, and I have to shove the feelings welling inside me down. I will not be jealous of a married man because Finley is looking at him.
“You’re one of the professional golfers here, right?” Finley asks.
“That’s me. JT Johnson”—he points to a tall blond man slapping hands with Li and Larsen—“is the other golfer they called in. Oh, God. I think they’re practicing a team cheer.”
