Dijon laughed. “Fin here has it bad for Ms. Maeve. She’s blinded him to all the other women in the world.”
Lifting my glass, I nodded. “Guilty as charged.”
The other two lifted their glasses and had a drink. Troy came around the arch at the entry and made his way to our table.
“I can’t believe you talked Fin into joining us,” Troy said as he sat in the last chair.
“I’m here for one beer. Celebration of our win and tribute to Cody.”
Troy pressed his lips together. “He’s out for the season. Could be longer for him to get range of motion back.”
“Fuck,” we growled in unison.
Troy’s dark stare met mine. “That means it’s you and me. They’ll probably pull Josh Jackson up from the practice squad.”
“He doesn’t know our plays.”
Troy lifted a brow. “Sounds like we have our work cut out for us.”
“There’s no set rule,” I said, “requiring a team to list three active QBs.”
“Yeah,” Dijon said, “the emergency third quarterback rule allows a designated third QB to dress on game day.”
“What the hell good is that?” Troy asked. “If he doesn’t know our plays, he’s just window dressing.” He looked across the table at me. “Sounds like we need to stay healthy.”
“What did Coach Pratt want?” Treshawn asked.
Our waitress returned. This time I looked at her. Curly dark hair, light-blue eyes, and big boobs. I had flashbacks of the women I dated at Tennessee. She could have been one of them. I honestly couldn’t remember names. Their purpose was to get one woman out of my head. Considering that I made my way back to that one woman, those other women never accomplished my goal.
The waitress stood by my side. “I see your friend has joined you.” She smiled extra big. “What can I get for you?”
“Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale,” Troy said.
“What about you?” she asked, looking straight at me.
“I’m good, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? That’s my granny.” She shimmied her shoulders. “I’m Kelly.” She turned her attention to the rest of the table. “Anyone ready for a second round?”
“All good,” Dijon said. Once she was gone, he looked at me. “Tell me you didn’t catch her vibe this time.”
“I’m a better passer than catcher. If I caught it, I threw it out of bounds.”
Laughter filled the air.
“You’re hopeless, man,” Treshawn said. Looking at Troy, he repeated, “Coach Pratt?”
“He wanted to talk about next week’s Jaguar game.” He shrugged. “The Jags are a divisional opponent. They’ve got a winning record. Said if we get up by enough, they’re going to take me out. He wanted me to know it wasn’t because they’re not happy with me.”
“Of course it’s not,” I said. “You’re going to take us to the Super Bowl. They’re keeping you healthy.”
The waitress returned with Troy’s ale. I kept my gaze focused on my teammate.
Troy tipped his glass toward me. “To both of us staying healthy. We’re all going to be wearing rings.”
I liked the sound of that. The farthest one of my teams ever made it in my thirteen-year career was the conference championship. A ring was a lofty goal.
As the table started talking about a second round, I laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “I’m out. Thanks for the invite.”
