Page 6 of Forever Offsides

“This is probably TMI since I don’t know you, but I had an ex who was a player.” She picks up half her burger and puts it on my plate. “We dated while I was in medical school, and it was great. We were great. Then he got himself traded to another team and didn’t think to mention it to me until the deal was done. A friend told me about it. It was all over the news and flashing across her feeds. I went to my phone to call him when I saw a text from him. He was already on the plane and said his ambition for the sport and his career outweighed anything else, and he had to do what was best for him and his future. The future I was no longer a part of.”

I stare at her with round, unblinking eyes. “I’m sorry. You said he did this via text?”

She nods.

I’m more than a little incredulous. “After the deal was already on the news?”

Another nod.

“How long were you together?”

“Almost three years.”

“Shit.” I whistle through my teeth. “What kind of asshole does that?”

“A selfish one,” she deadpans.

What a jerk. I mean, I get the ambition, especially with the sport, but who leaves someone that way? And while I’m looking at her, who leaves a woman like her? At all.

“I have a shitty ex too.” I don’t typically talk about Poppy. Hardly ever. But she brought up her ex, and with all the thinking of my son today, it’s sitting on me. “We have a son together, and for his entire life, she’s used him against me to get whatever she was after from me, which typically consisted of more money. She’s a masterclass manipulator and loves to make herself come off as the victim. Thankfully, she’s no longer part of my life now that our son is grown. I was young when we had him. But I always took care of him despite the lies she made him believe. People suck.”

She holds up her glass to me. “People suck.”

We clink our glasses, and each takes a sip before we dive into our food and chat about nothing that’s all that important.

The Bruins score a goal, and she cheers. “Finally. They’ve been flirting with that corner of the goal all period.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin and tosses it on her mostly empty plate, but the reality is, I haven’t looked away from her. Not once.

I’ve barely seen the game, and I didn’t catch the goal.

I’m all about the job. That’s how being an NFL coach is, and it’ll be worse now that I’m a head coach instead of an assistant. It’s a billion hours a day with very little downtime, even in the offseason. Plus, I’ll be a new coach following a very beloved and successful one. I’ll need to prove myself.

So I won’t have time for a woman.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want this one, even if only for tonight. I want to kiss those plump lips and watch those eyes when I slip inside her. I’d like to see all that dark red hair rumpled from my hands and pillows first thing in the morning. I wonder how pretty that smart mouth would look wrapped around my cock.

I wasn’t lying when I told her that a woman hasn’t caught my attention in a long time. I don’t make women a priority. They’re a fun night or two and nothing else. My son’s mother did a fantastic number on me, and after that, it was playing ball, then coaching, while being with my son as much as I could, trying to undo the bullshit lies his mother fed him about me.

So this woman won’t be anything either.

She’s too young for me anyway. Probably in her twenties.

But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like all night with her. And it doesn’t mean I won’t think about her again after it.

I pull out my wallet and drop some cash that’s more than enough to cover our meals plus a generous tip on the bar. The bartender recognized me and kept his mouth shut, so he deserves it.

I shift on my stool until I’m facing Quinn. I haven’t touched her since I initially grabbed her knee. Not really. I haven’t done a great job of flirting either. It’s been eating, and sports talk with no sexy stuff or innuendos. It was also one of the easiest and most relaxed meals I remember having with a woman. I’m out of practice. Most women know who I am and make their move without me having to put in an effort.

I graze my fingers beneath her hair at the nape of her neck. She shivers and twists until our knees brush and we’re facing each other. I stare into her eyes, so soft and pretty like the rest of her face. The color of her hair is something extra too.

Without thinking it through or even worrying about being photographed—which I should be—I pull her in, dip my head, and press my lips to hers. I’m hesitant at first. Nervous she’ll push me away or say no. To my surprise, her hands grasp my forearms, and she tilts her head to kiss me back.

And just like that, my hesitation is gone.

I split her lips and slip my tongue inside her mouth. She tastes spicy from the sauce and sweet from the wine, and I groan as my cock surges with blood.

“Come upstairs with me, Quinn.”

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