“I have a couple. And if they don’t come to fruition, we’ll put the word out publicly.”
“Best of luck.”
“Thank you.” Wes huffs out a laugh. “I might need it. Now back to tomorrow’s media session. What do you need and when?”
Wes and I run through the plan for tomorrow, and he grunts and groans at the exact moments I thought he would. We’ve had media here all week; that’s nothing new. The difference is that until now, they’ve had limited access to the field, and no interviews have been approved. Wes wanted the team to have the chance to train together without the thought of mediarequirements in the back of their minds. And while I respect that, I can only hold them off for so long.
We have a new starting quarterback this year after winning the Super Bowl, and everyone wants to know how the players are feeling, especially Beckett. Most other franchises are already allowing team interviews. The San Francisco crew is getting restless.
“I really appreciate you accommodating this, Wes. I know we need to focus on the game.”
“It’s a necessary evil. One I will never get used to.”
I laugh and Wes’s eyes widen. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’m not the media; I’m the go-between. A babysitter of sorts.”
“That’s the most accurate description I’ve heard. They certainly need someone taking care of them. Making sure they don’t fuck up.”
“Not that it works.”
“No. I’m afraid nothing will. Anyway, I’ve got to run. I’ve got a call with another potential coach.”
“Ooh, can I have any hints as to who? Do I know them?”
“You might. I’ll let you know how it goes after speaking with him. Keep your fingers crossed.”
I almost pout like I would with Sal but thankfully stop myself, making me wonder if I’ve ever been professional with that man.
We certainly weren’t professional while naked in the changing rooms. God, I wish I was back there now instead of…
Fuck, Wes. “Yes. My fingers are crossed. I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Thanks, Keeley. Talk soon.”
Idon’t see Sal for the rest of the day, and that’s probably for the best. If I had seen him, I’m not sure I could have stopped myself from asking him to meet me in the gym or his office. Anywhere for a replay of what happened earlier.
That man knows what he’s doing and— Nope. I am not going to think abouthowhe knows because that’s a recipe for me to spiral. He’s had more years of experience than I have, and that’s all I need to know.
For the next few days, I throw myself into extra, unnecessary work to distract me from thinking about Sal. That is, until I remember I’m supposed to be dedicating time to my bridesmaid’s duties—helping to plan a rehearsal dinner for the man-I’m-not-thinking-about’s daughter.Dammit.
Since Paige refused a bachelorette party, she decided to make the rehearsal dinner a bigger deal, a week before her wedding, and I’m giving it my all. At least, I’m trying to.
I’d consider channeling my inner Paige, otherwise known as the queen of event organization, if I hadn’t realized how wrong that sounds.
Everything makes me think about Sal and the complicated situation we’ve found ourselves in. Meanwhile, Sal seems completely unaffected. When I pass him in the halls, he smiles, just like he always did. When he needs me, or I him, he’s there ready for anything, as though nothing has changed.
Except it has. For me.
If I thought I’d be able to get him out of my system after a couple of incredible, mind-blowing orgasms, I was dead wrong.
I want more.
All the time.
I can’t stop thinking about him.
The following Friday, I’m deep in thought, pretending I’m busy on my laptop when I swear I hear my name. I glance up from where I’m hiding away in the corner of my local café to find Paige walking toward me.
