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I clear my throat. “He was a cornerback for the Giants for many years.”
“And he taught you everything you know about football?”
I laugh. “Something like that. I’ve done a fair bit of research over the years, too, but I did grow up around the game.”
“Well your knowledge is second to none. I always tune into VG-oh-three first before the ESPN highlights.”
He’s definitely flirting.
“Well, you know, that was all my predecessor. But I’m so excited to take it over, and I’d love to do a player profile on you if you’re up for it.”
“Fuck yeah I’m up for it. We can talk about the other youth camps I run or, you know, whatever. Maybe over dinner?” he suggests.
I don’t want to decline since I want the interview, but it’s also probably wrong to lead him on when it would be a conflict of interest for me to date a player, but I don’t actually get the chance to decline.
Someone else steps in to do it for me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
We both whip around at the sound of his voice, and there stands Lincoln Fucking Nash, black Aces t-shirt stretched over strong biceps and mirrored sunglasses covering his eyes to give me even fewer clues as to what he might be thinking.
God, he’s hot. It’s not fair.
“Coach, I’m so glad you showed up,” Austin says, stiffening a little at the sight of his coach.
I, on the other hand, feel venom freeze my veins.
“You don’t think what is a good idea?” I ask him.
“Graham taking you out on a date. It’s a conflict of interest, never mind the age difference.”
“The age difference?” I ask, and I swear to God, this asshole just loves to get a rise out of me.
“Graham, what are you…twenty-five?” He asks. He jerks a thumb at me. “She’s thirty-four.”
“Age is just a number,” I sniff haughtily, but how fucking dare he?
“Oh, I wasn’t asking her out,” Austin says, but he totally was, and seeing him cower under the presence of his coach is a total turn-off anyway. “I should get back to the players. Thanks, Ms. Bailey.”
“It was lovely chatting with you, Austin,” I say, my voice all low and raspy just to push Lincoln’s buttons a little more.
“You too.” He scampers back to the field.
“Uh, excuse me,” Sam says. “Just going to run over to…” She trails off as she walks away from us, not hiding the fact at all that she’s giving Lincoln and me a moment alone.
“What the fuck was that?” I demand.
“You’re welcome. I’m sure that was uncomfortable for you.” He chuckles a little. He knows exactly what he just did, and he thinks this is funny.
“It wasn’t. He’s a nice guy.”
“He’s a child, Jolene. You deserve a man.” His voice is low.
“Like you?” I challenge.
“Oh no. Definitely not me.”
“So what…you can’t have me and nobody else can, either?” I hiss.
