Page 139 of Playing Mr. Perfect

He smiles, his brow furrowing. “I can’t promise there won’t be more annoying headlines. Especially if I fuck up on the field. They’ll try to blame you and our relationship.”

“I survived being your flavor of the month and being embarrassed by everyone I grew up with. I think I can handle just about anything at this point.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “You and I have both been alone for a long time. I had no idea who I was outside of work. You showed me that it’s okay to figure things out as we go. Football isn’t who you are. It’s what you do. I know who you are, and your family does, too. You’re a loving, smart, generous, competitive man, and you’re allowed to be unsure when you make a big change. Love is supposed to be scary, and football was your first and longest-lasting love. It’s going to be scary no matter when you do it, but you won’t be doing it alone. Whether you retire tomorrow, next year, or five years from now, I’ll be here to help you take the next step.”

“God, I love you.” He draws me into his arms, and as his lips cover mine, cheers and whistles ring out around us.

“So much for my chance with Pepper,” Noah jokes, and his family converges on us.

“I’m sorry for the outburst,” I say as his mother embraces me.

“No need to apologize, honey,” she says. “Real love takes hard work. You just stole another piece of our hearts.”

We’re passed from one warm embrace to another. When I finally land back in Clay’s loving arms and those blue eyes find mine, the pieces of my fractured heart come back together, and I know that no matter what Clay decides, we’re on the same team.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Pepper

The warm Vegas air crackles with intensity at the Charity Bowl. There are seventeen seconds left in the fourth quarter, and Clay’s team is down by three points. I’ve been on the edge of my front-row bleacher seat the whole game. I want this win so badly for Clay. It’s been three weeks since he laid himself bare on his family’s front lawn. The sensory glove has helped him find a new release point, but his shoulder is still iffy. Even so, he decided to play for another season, because my competitive, loyal man doesn’t want to let his fans, or himself, down. He’s announcing it after the game this afternoon, and his fans are waiting with bated breath to see if their Mr. Perfect will sign or walk away. This was a torturous decision for Clay, and I couldn’t be prouder of him for following his heart.

As Clay’s team gets into position, the opposing team calls a time-out. I turn to Sable, Kane, and Seth, who came out to support Clay. “I never knew football could be so nerve-racking. I don’t know how the players deal with this.”

“I think they get used to it,” Seth says.

“It should be illegal the way Gorecky keeps going after Clay,” Sable says.

“He got a penalty for roughing the passer,” Kane says.

“He gets one every game when he plays against Clay,” Seth says. “Clay caught him cheating on his wife when he played for the Giants and gave him hell for it. Gorecky’s been all over him ever since.”

“I should’ve kicked Jason Gorecky’s ass when I had the chance,” Sable says.

Seth arches a brow. “Did you have a run-in with him?”

Sable looks at me, her jaw tight, giving me space to respond.

Clay and I had dinner with several of the players last night. That’s when I found out Jason was playing in the Charity Bowl. I avoided him like the plague, and I’m glad I didn’t reveal to Clay that it was Jason who hurt me in college. He’s worried enough about his shoulder. He didn’t need to worry about me being uncomfortable.

“I knew Jason in college,” I say. “He was a jerk then, too.”

“Guys like that never change,” Seth says as the time-out ends.

The crowd cheers as the players get into position.

“Seventeen seconds on the clock, and they’re on their own forty-two-yard line,” Kane says. “Clay needs one hell of a Hail Mary.”

Fans begin chanting, “Let’s go, Clay! Let’s go, Clay!” We all join in. I chant as loud as I can, my heart filling up at the love pouring out for him.

Clay gets the snap and scans the field for his target as the defensive line charges. I watch the clash of men with my heart in my throat as Clay evades a defender and the clock ticks down. Thirteen seconds, twelve, eleven…

Their star wide receiver cuts toward the center with two defenders on his heels. Clay fires the ball like a rocket. I hold my breath as it bullets through the air with pinpoint accuracy. The receiver leaps across the end zone, his arms outstretched, and the ball lands in his hands as he crashes to the ground. The crowd erupts, and we jump up and down, hugging each other and cheering for Clay. Clay looks over at me, his arms shooting up in the air, and I yell, “Way to go, baby!” as players barrel into him.

“Way to go, brother!” Seth hollers.

Time moves in a heart-thundering blur as the extra point is lined up, and the kicker nails it. The crowd goes wild again and players spill out onto the field. I’m so happy, I’ve got tears in my eyes.

“Go get him, Pep!” Sable yells.

In the next breath, Seth and Kane are lifting me over the railing. I don’t have time to think as Clay sprints toward me and throws his helmet to the ground. Then I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing and laughing, and he’s spinning me around. Cameras are pointed at us, and reporters are shouting for Clay’s attention. Players are everywhere, the crowd is cheering, and Clay is looking at me like I’m all he sees, as he says, “That was for you, Reckless. Just for you!”