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I huffed out a soft laugh and typed back.

Thank you. But I already saw the 14 texts you sent about that.

Vaughn

I sent those texts when you were still on the field. This is different. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

I sat and grinned stupidly at my screen.

Vaughn

Fifty-one yards!!!

I know. I was there.

Vaughn

Late rush. Bad wind. Jackass defender roughing my baby.

I’m okay.

Vaughn

Wanted to fucking kill that rookie.

He apologized.

Vaughn

He’s on my list. Tomlinson. Noted.

You’re being possessive on purpose. While I’m stuck on a plane and can’t do anything about it.

Vaughn

You were so hot in your uniform. There’s a still shot from that kick that’s taken from an angle that makes the angels sing. The horny angels.

He sent the screenshot. It was clearly from a social media post that was probably doing the rounds. Sure enough, the shot made me look like a fucking porn star with a team hoodie balled up in my jock. I sent back an “Objects May Be Larger Than They Appear” meme.

Luck of the angle, I guess.

Vaughn

I’m gonna ask Dalton how to get me one of those rifles. Be fighting them off after this pic does the rounds. Might pay Tomlinson a visit with it, too.

I snickered under my breath.

Tell everyone hey. I miss you. Give Arden and Linney kisses from me.

Vaughn

Wish you were here, babygirl.

Same, baby. Same.

Vaughn

Come home to me safely, sweetheart.