Page 38 of Hard to Score

“You’d think this schtick would get old. Do the four of you practice in your weekly office meeting? Is there a prize that goes to the sister who gets to use it that week?” His voice is sarcastic yet playful.

Kind of how it always is between us.

Do I like the douchebag? Not really. But he does provide entertainment from time to time. I’ll give him that much. I still think he’s a total asshole for what he did to Chase, but if she’s over it, then I am too.

“Yes, that’s exactly right, so thanks for showing up to let me win this week’s contest.”

“Glad to be of service,” he murmurs before we both fall silent for a beat as the team runs another series of drills, each of the three quarterbacks getting a chance to show off their talents. “I’m assuming you’re here for Whittier?”

“News travels fast.”

“No news. Just assumptions after that fight he got in with the coordinator at the last game. Fighting with your coach is never a good thing.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on.”

We stop talking as a crowd of players comes closer. Is it stupid that my stomach flip-flops when I see Drew in the group? I try to remain nonchalant behind my sunglasses, but there is the slightest of moments when Drew is drinking his water that he looks straight at me and grins. It has that part-smirk, part-knowing feel to it that says he knows what my lips taste like. He knows that we have a secret.

He’s thinking about our kiss too.

And it’s everything I need to know to put my restless mind—and heart—at ease.

“So what are you going to do about him?” Finn asks with a slight lift of his chin toward Whittier since players are still nearby. “Trade him? Coddle him? Tell him to suck it up?”

“All of the above?” I shrug. “It depends. I have meetings with Los Angeles and they’re interested in him. From what I hear, they’re going through a rebuilding year so they’re hungry for a lot of positions right now. A QB, some defensive backs”—I gesture to the players—“O-line. So maybe I’ll feel out what management here at the Raptors thinks and go from there.”

“Huh,” he says and mimics my posture with his arms crossed. “I was convinced you were here to steal one of my clients. You’re a Kincade. There’s always an ulterior motive with you guys when it comes to me.”

I roll my eyes and laugh, but refuse to admit that he’s right. “The funny thing, Sanderson? Even though you’re typically an asshole and your manners need a lot of work, I don’t mind you as much as everyone else does. In fact, I look forward to these bantering sessions to keep my comeback game in check.”

“Is that cold heart of yours thawing some?” He chuckles. “Or is this your way of trying to thaw mine so you can steal one of my clients?”

“You do have eight or nine clients on this team. Are you really going to miss any if I steal one?” I ask playfully.

“I can draw some conclusions.”

“Draw away.” Drew makes a flawless pass that is so pretty it’s ridiculous. God, he’s sexy when he does that. Hobbs throws a second and it’s just as pretty, but not as perfectly placed.

“It’s Hobbs,” he says after a beat. “That would be the biggest bang for your buck. He’s a rising star, hotshot rookie who everyone is talking about. If you were a smart agent, that’s where you would look.”

“Are you trying to unload him?” I ask through a laugh. “Because that sounded like a sales pitch if ever I heard one. What you forgot to add is that he’s young and cocky and you’re not doing your job properly as his agent to explain to him this is a game of longevity versus a balls-to-the-wall mentality.”

“See? That’s where we differ in our thought process. I say take all you can get while you can get it. Look at Bowman. He’s been doing this how long and rarely touches the field. Most guys would rather have their moments short and glorious instead of long and hidden in the shadows.”

“He’s good though,” I murmur as he connects another flawless pass.

“He’s incredible,” Finn agrees.

High praise coming from another agent. Praise that I agree with. It just seems so wrong that Drew isn’t even a starter.

“Why doesn’t he ever get a chance, Finn?” I speak my thoughts out loud. Kiss or no kiss, I can be objective when it comes to the amount of skill Drew has.

“He did have the chance and was doing great with the Tigers. At the beginning of his second season, he was in a game where he crashed hard. I mean, he didn’t look like the same player out there. Passes wide, balls dropped. He was playing under the name Drew Hemmings—his grandmother’s maiden name—but someone made the connection to his dad somehow. Fucking bloodhounds. They started posting shit on social media, hinting that he was trying to throw the game like his old man had. It caused quite the controversy at the time.”

I stare at Finn for the first time and shake my head. “I don’t remember any of that.” But if Drew was fresh off the draft, then that means I was in my second or third year of college and was preoccupied with all good things that come with it—studying, partying, boys, and training.

At that point, I had written him out of my life, so why would I have paid attention, let alone to someone with a different last name.

“Anyway, the Tigers brushed the Internet fodder under the rug, moved him to second string while they secretly ran an investigation into whether he did it or not, and when he emerged free and clear from any wrongdoing, he dropped Hemmings and used Bowman.”