“I bet a big guy as yourself could polish off a dozen with no problem.”
I look over and see Wiley’s big ego broadcasting as he smirks at me. “I just have to eat a dozen faster than her and she has to clean the seats?”
Buck and the other guys murmur all kinds of encouragement, but Zane looks confused.
“Sam always wi—” Zane starts but Colton grabs a donut and shoves it in his mouth before Zane finishes.
Wiley’s back is turned, so he doesn’t catch on to the ruckus. He’s too busy sidling up beside me, looking way too smug for his own good.
“If we only have to eat a dozen, why do you have so many boxes?” He motions to the tall stack at the end of the table.
“Hello. The hot sign was on.” Trey exaggerates his words while shaking his head.
I nudge Wiley in the side. “Don’t you have coach duties to worry about?”
“It won’t take long to beat you. Say, you want to sweeten the deal?” The green twinkles in his eyes. He so thinks he’s got this in the bag.
“Why on earth would I do that if you’re favored to win this?” I pout for good measure. Turning my attention away from him, I pop open my lid and start stacking the donuts—six in each stack. The scent is heavenly and I can’t stop licking my lips.
“What are you doing?” Wiley asks as he opens his lid.
I shrug my shoulder. “I thought maybe it would be quicker to grab one, if they are in stacks.” I try to sound naïve—like I’m figuring this out on the fly.
My crew all snorts and snickers, adding to me sounding like an idiot.
“Come on, Sam. Let’s add to the challenge. Be a good losing sport for a change,” Colton antagonizes. He looks relieved now that he’s not my opponent.
“Look what you’ve gotten me into, Coach,” I mutter with trying to seem like I only want him to hear.
“How about the loser has to wear a pair of hot-pink rubber gloves and a tutu while cleaning!” Benji barks this out during a fit of laughter.
“And one of those sparkly tiaras,” Trey adds. The crowd rings out in laughter.
Wiley joins in, adding his own chuckle. Oh, he’s so sure of himself. “Come on, Peaches. I’d love to see you in a tutu.”
I pop my sticky hand on my hip. “Who’s to say I’m gonna lose?” I have to show some confidence for good measure. He somehow knows me too well and will catch on if I’m not careful.
He pats me on the shoulder. “So you should have no trouble agreeing to the bet.”
I scan the eager crowd, surrounding us at the table—cellphones poised to catch the contest on video.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, I say, “Sure. I’ll take one for the team. That’s the kind of teammate I am.”
“Good. Good. Let’s get this going. On the count of three, you two eat up.” Buck instructs us as Wiley turns his hat on backwards as though the hat may slow him down. I try not to notice how blame cute he looks.
When Buck gets to three, Wiley snatches up his first and it’s gone in two bites. I simultaneously slam my hands down forcefully on top of the stacks and smash them to form two manageable donut sandwiches. One sandwich takes three bites, the second one take five bites, and I’m done. Wiley is on his eighth donut and doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that my box is already empty. The break room erupts in laughter and shouts.
“Y’all just played me,” Wiley mumbles out around a mouthful of donut. He plops in a seat and just keeps eating for the heck of it.
“You lost, dude. You don’t have to keep eating,” Zane says.
“You jerks think you’re funny. I’m finishing my donuts.” Wiley stands up and swipes every box, but one. “As a matter of fact, I think I’ve earned all of these for that dirty trick.” He storms out the door, with the crowd grumbling in good humor while diving for the abandoned box.
*****
“You totally rock a pink tutu, Coach.” I snicker as I plop down in the stadium seat a row up from him.
He ignores me as he works on scraping a stubborn piece of gum off the bottom of the seat he’s working on.
“And that tiara looks so sweet in the midst of all that dark hair.” My tone is full of mockery.
He finally gets the gum free and tosses it in the garbage bag beside him. I wonder where on earth Buck found a pair of hot-pink rubber gloves big enough for Wiley. Undoubtedly, a cleaning supply store exists for giants.
“You want to grab a donut when you’re finished?” I ask. This earns me only a sharp glare. “Our little race has already hit over eighty thousand views on YouTube. We should celebrate.” I’ve watched it a half dozen times myself. The dumbfounded look on Wiley’s face when he realized I won is priceless.
“I don’t like you.” He grumbles this out before scooting down to the next seat. I shuffle one down, too, to keep him company. The place is deserted, with the team on hiatus.
“But you said you loved me the other night.” I say this to joke around, but when he looks up, I notice there’s nothing funny about the statement.
“And I meant it.” Sharp conviction laces his tone.
“But you hardly know me.”
He huffs out a faint cloud of aggravation—it’s actually cold enough today to see your breath. Peeling the silly gloves, tiara, and tutu off, Wiley climbs over the row and takes the seat beside me. My body betrays me and shivers with him being near. Mistaking this as a sign of me being cold, Wiley reaches over and buttons the two wayward buttons on my coat before wrapping his arm around me. This gesture is so thoughtfully tender, and I gladly melt into his warmth.
“You know I know you. I’ve known you since the day we met.”
Glancing up from where I’m resting on his shoulder, I scoff. “That sounds convoluted.”
“You’re gonna tell me you didn’t feel the connection that first day?” He gives me a challenging look—an eyebrow raised and lips pursed.
“Yes, but there’s just too much at risk here.”
“The only thing I see at risk is us losing out on something extraordinary over our stupid stubbornness.”
I’m about to stubbornly rebuke, but Wiley’s lips brush against my own, causing me to forget my name. It’s just a simple closed-mouth kiss, but it really makes a statement. It’s slow and lingering.
Pressing his forehead to mine, Wiley whispers his words across my lips. “I thank God for allowing my injury.”
I try to pull away, but he cups both his hands to my face to keep me. “How can you say that?”
“That injury led me down a path straight to you. You’re the biggest blessing I’ve ever stumbled upon, and I thank Him for not letting me miss out on it. Without the injury, I would have.” Another kiss renders me close to tears.
Eventually I pull back and ask, “What about our fallout?”
“Not a fallout, Peaches. Just a bump in our hard-headed road. How about giving us a chance?”
I ponder the idea of tangling with him again. The idea is terrifyingly tempting. I sure do miss him. “I suppose we could try being friends…”
His low, raspy chuckle sends a shiver along my stunned body. “Baby, you can call this…” He pauses to motion between us. “Friends, buddies, whatever. But doubt none that you’re mine.”
His lips meet mine again, but this time there’s nothing slow and sweet about it. It’s a demanding claim that says all I need to know. He’s mine, too.
“I love you,” I say against his lips, not wanting to lose the connection.
“I know.” There’s no smugness in his declaration—only a reverent awe.
Chapter Thirteen
They say spring is a time for renewal, a fresh start. I’m beginning to think someone might just be right. Everyone has kept busy. The team has been on break, so Wiley has been back to Kentucky for the last two weeks. We text and talk most days. It’s as though we have found an acceptable groove for our relationship—whatever that is. We bicker one minute and make out the next when we are around each other. I have no idea what I�
�m doing, but I sure am having fun trying to figure it out. We’ll have to see how this new ground holds up next season, though.
We’ve worked in a few more drag races with me letting him beat me once. The man has an ego that is too needy, so a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. He did gift me with his own victory dance. And just let me say for the record—those nice, lean hips know how to shimmy. I’ve been tempted to let him win a few more times just for the show, but I’m too competitive for that.
We’ve hung out at the ranch a good bit as well—fishing in the mini lake and horseback riding. It’s a nice change to see him away from the stadium and football world. Surprisingly, I find Wiley Black just as appealing.
The Bobcats are a few months away from training camp, so they are on a mandatory vacation from the field. They are due back next week to start weight training and meetings, though. So I’ve had the field to myself and it’s been heavenly. I’ve treated the vibrant turf to lots of nourishment and aerations and such for the last few weeks. It’ll be raring to go soon.
A familiar knock sounds on my door, producing a reluctant Trey.
“What now?”
He scratches through his dark-blond hair, trying to figure out what to say. It’s a Trey tell I’ve picked up over the years when he’s nervous.
“Just spit it out.” My eyes roll with impatience.
Sighing, he says, “Black and the team are back early.”
“Okay.”
“They’re on the field.”
Talk about déjà vu. Ugh. “Tell him to get off or else.” I point for him to get on with it, but Trey just throws his hands up in defeat.
“I already did. He’s refusing just like last time. You handle it.” He has enough nerve to give me a stern glare before dashing off.
Mumbling my aggravation under my breath, I stomp down to the field and find the players dressed for weight training. There’s some comfort in not finding them dressed in cleats and shoulder pads.
Sidling right up to Wiley, I say, “No player is allowed on this field for at least two more months and you know it.” Crossing my arms, I wait for another one of his bull-headed showdowns.
“They’re not technically on the field.” He points over to where the team is standing on the sideline. “I’m trying to explain a new play I’ve been working on, but they’re not getting it. I need to show them. You’ve got perfect timing. You can help me out.”
I shake my head vigorously in disapproval. “Nah-uh. Last time I played with you, I couldn’t grip my coffee cup for a week. No thanks.” I hear a chuckle skirt along the players, but ignore it.
“No. Nothing like that. I’ll behave this time.”
Confused, but not wanting to disrespect him in front of his team again—and let’s be honest, between the Jones trade and the slap I’ve done my share—I reluctantly agree.
“Leave your hat and shades on the sideline. They’ll get in the way,” Wiley says over his shoulder as he grabs a ball and heads to the fifty.
I yank both off and toss them to the ground before following him. Placing me before him, he sets the ball on his side of the line of scrimmage.
“I’m offense, right?”
His smug look is all the answer I need, but he says anyway, “No. I am.”
“I hate playing defense.” That sounded sort of whiny even to my ears.
“Suck it up this once.” He points at me to stay put as he turns to address his team.
That’s perfectly fine by me, because I’m left with a fine view of his nicely round backside. I’m a huge fan of his rigorous squat routines. Those track pants sure know how to show his form off. My head eases into a tilt to appreciate it even more.
“All right, what have I told you is the most important part of this sport of football?” He barks out full of commanding attitude that demands respect. I already have goose bumps.
“Teamwork!” The team’s voices ring out.
“And who should always have your back?”
“Your Teammates!”
“You’ve got to have one another’s backs. No matter the outcome.” Pointing to the line where the football is resting beside it, he says, “You need a teammate that’s going to go to this line of scrimmage prepared to go to battle with you.”
He paces a few steps, looks over his shoulder at me briefly, and continues to address his guys. “A new season is nearing and we need to be clear on a few things. You need a teammate that’s always looking out for your safety and is willing to put you in your place if need be. If you can’t depend on your team, then you got nothing in this game.”
The guys nod their heads, acknowledging they get it. He must feel confident they do, because he turns back and meets me at the line of scrimmage.
“You ready, Peaches?”
Please don’t hurt me!
I brace myself, as I bravely say, “Lay it on me, Coach.” I just know he’s going to knock me on my rear to even the score between us. Maybe I deserve it. Either way, I’m gonna take it like the Texan I am—with guns-a-blazing.
Wiley Black’s large form kneels in front of me and the football. Then he shows me the play, and I’m so lightheaded from the rush of it I see stars. Blinking them away as best I can, I focus on the black diamond ring pinched between his fingers.
“You say you go with your gut on decisions that matter the most. That true?” The harsh alpha male façade has vanished leaving behind that gentle giant I’ve grown so attached to.
“You know it’s true.” Tears push their way free.
“Well, I’ve come to one of those decisions. I want you… No. I need you in my life.”
“You know we don’t clash well professionally. What about the effect of this on the team?” I try to hold on tight to my rational side, but it’s slipping fast.
“Baby, I only see us going up from here and I guarantee the climb will be impressive.” He steals my quote, but I don’t mind. It sounds really nice coming from him. Pulling my left hand in his, Wiley asks, “Will you marry this washed-up football player?”
“No.” I bat the tears away with my free hand.
“No?” A confused hurt furrows his brows as he glances at his team nervously.
Pulling his face back towards me, I say, “No, but I will agree to marry this incredible man who is a great football player and even better coach.”
A lopsided grin pulls at those handsome lips. “So, is that a yes?”
“Yes, Coach. I’ll marry you.”
Slipping the ring on my finger, Wiley claims my lips. Whistles and catcalls rings out from his team, but this time we don’t mind. The kiss is triumphant and hard to maintain with us both grinning.
“Team, you’re dismissed,” Wiley hollers out and goes right back to kissing me on the fifty yard line.
I pull away to catch my breath and release a giddy laugh. “Dad’s going to be glued to the security tapes tonight.”
“Nah. He just saw it live with your mom, my parents, and your work crew right along with our team.” It didn’t get past me, he just said our team.
I squint up and see Wiley is so proud of himself. “What?”
He turns towards the box suite windows and gives the hidden audience a thumbs up. And that’s when I see them all—hands in the air clapping. This man made sure everyone important to us witnessed his proposal and that just turns me into a swooning mess.
Turning back to me, giving them no more regard, Wiley beckons me to lay on the fifty with him.
The sun is shining gloriously today and is most fitting with how I feel. Side by side, holding hands, I ask, “So, what are we celebrating?”
Before answering, he presses another kiss to my willing lips. “The best reverse play I ever called.”
“Well played, Coach.” He most certainly called it right, and I’m so glad he was brave enough to push us in another direction with not allowing me to throw the towel in a few months back.
I don’t allow him any more words. This time I go on the offense a
nd grab up my own kiss, hoping this unexpected season of my life never concludes.
2 Seasons Later…
Two seasons have passed and I’m close to marching on that blame field and slapping some sense into my husband. The man has me all worked up tonight.
“Come on, Black!” I yell from the box suite as though he could hear me. The defense looks like they’re napping, for crying out loud. My eyes scan this pristine stadium in appreciation, even though it’s not mine, as I try to calm down.
Wiley’s biggest cheerleader, aka Maggie, pats my shoulder. “You should calm down, dear. My Wiley will get the job done.”
My eyes focus back on that handsome devil standing on the sideline as he shouts into his headset. Yanking them off moments later, he commences to yelling at his defensive coach. There’s tension prickling the air in anticipation. So close…
“Maggie, the defense can’t sleep just yet. We’ve got to hold ’em. We were right here last year. The game of all games and we lost it in overtime. Tonight, I don’t have time for overtime!”
As though Wiley can sense me sassing, he abruptly turns in my direction and points sternly. Maggie and Mom giggle. There’s absolutely no way he can see me!
“It’s not funny.” I feel the sweat accumulating on my forehead from being so worked up. I swipe it off with the palm of my hand as I huff. “That man is always thinking he can boss me around.”
“Someone needs to,” Cooper says on a chuckle.
I shoot him a glare before focusing back on the game. The guys are scrambling around to line up for the next play. “How much time is left on the clock?” I ask no one in particular.
“Three minutes, fifteen seconds,” Nolan answers.
My nervous hand runs over my aching gut. “Hold ’em, defense.” I yell and luckily they listen.
A few more unproductive plays from the opposing team pass with the Bobcats finally regaining control of the ball. Wiley uses their last timeout, so I sit back and take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves.
“Are you okay, darlin’?” Mom asks as she rubs my arm. Everyone is coddling me tonight, and it’s raking my nerves just as bad as this game.
Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas Page 17
