We eat, listening to the commentators discuss whatever is happening on the screen. When I’m finished, I set my plate to the side, pulling my knees to my chest and angling my body to keep Cole in my view.
He slouches down into the couch, his long legs bent and hanging off the edge. One arm is tucked behind his head, the other at his side, his fingers wrapped lazily around the remote. His face is smooth as his eyes capture the screen. He’s perfectly relaxed.
He told me he rarely sits out here, and I wonder what he does with his time. He goes to bed early, eats breakfast, and trains all morning. But what does he do with the rest of his time? This? Does he just watch game after game, studying?
I read about athletes playing video games to relax their bodies and minds. There was a game controller on his nightstand, so maybe that’s what he does besides watching football. I’ve seenno evidence that he spends time with friends, and I know his family doesn’t live here.
I want to figure this man out and understand why someone would target him beyond his wealth and fame. Obsession, maybe? A stalker? Both of those things make him an easy target, but something about these threats seems personal.
After seeing how his teammate spoke to him and called him Rocket Boy, I’m learning Cole has been dealing with more than some serious threats. He’s been trying to prove himself to a group of assholes who likely can’t stand that they won’t ever come close to matching his ability.
Cole Matthews is all football, all the time. It’s what’s expected, not just of his team and fans. I wonder if Cole expects it of himself. If he lets one thing slack, he’ll slip, too, and he’ll let all those people down. He’ll let himself down. But what is he running or hiding from with this hyperfocus?
“Why are you staring at me?” His question startles me out of my thoughts.
“I’m not staring.”
One side of his mouth ticks. “Yes, you are.” His blue eyes remain on the screen, and mine never leave him.
“No, I’m not.” I am, but I’m not staring. I’m studying, learning, absorbing.
“Jones.”
It’s the first time he’s called me by my last name, and it feels a bit like payback for me always calling him Matthews. I could smile, but I don’t.
“Stop staring at me. It’s weirding me out, and I’m trying to concentrate.”
I allow my gaze to drift to the TV where the players are setting up. I wonder what he sees, what he’s studying.
My gaze wanders back to him. His eyes narrow slightly. He’s paying close attention. After fifteen seconds, whatever he wanted to see must be over, and he rubs his scruffy jaw.
His finger presses a button, and the picture stills. His head rolls in my direction.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I blurt, my curiosity getting the best of me.
It’s what I’ve wondered since I arrived. This man is surrounded by beautiful women. He smiles, nods, scribbles his name, and moves on.
I saw the way women watched and lingered today, poised to try to snatch his attention. Cole could have his pick, so why doesn’t he?
“Is that important to this assignment?” His question is direct but a tad tentative.
Is it?
Maybe not, but I’m intrigued, and the more I know about him, the better equipped I’ll be to protect him.
“Sort of.”
He shifts a little, studying me now.
“If media sources can be trusted, you’re expected to be one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL. You’re loaded and good-looking. . .enough. So why not?”
His dark eyebrows inch upward, and I won’t acknowledge it or let him know that “enough” doesn’t even scratch the surface.
When he doesn’t say anything, I press on, wanting to understand. Is there a crazy ex I need to be worried about? “You seem kind, smart, and dedicated. I’m just trying to figure out why you spend all your time here alone. Out of all the gorgeous women willing to throw themselves at your feet, surely there has to be a few you’d want to spend time with.”
He slides his arm out from behind his head and sits a little. His thumb traces over the buttons on the remote, and he tracks the movement.
I’ve made him uncomfortable, and my curiosity grows.
