Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Best Sports,” Dempsey grumbled.
“They go with someone else?” Ames asked, suddenly serious.
Best Sports was a huge sponsor, and they’d been looking at Dempsey. We were all confident that they would offer him a contract, so I understood Ames’s shift in attitude at Dempsey’s frustrated tone.
“Not yet, but Gil called in a favor and found out that they have some conditions I don’t meet.”
“Conditions?” Ames asked.
“Apparently, they’re looking for a family man.”
“I’m guessing they mean a serious relationship?”
“Like rings and a picket fence,” Dempsey confirmed.
Having heard enough, I put down my phone and twisted to look at Dempsey. “So make it happen,” I stated matter of factly.
Dempsey gaped at me for a moment, then sputtered, “Make it happen? Like get married?”
I nodded and stood, retrieving my keys and wallet from my locker before shoving them in my pocket. “Yeah. If you’re serious about this gig, do what it takes, man.”
If it were possible, I would do whatever it took to make Cleo mine. If Dempsey really wanted this contract, then he needed to get his ass in gear and go for it. I clapped him on the shoulder and walked out.
After adding my phone to my pocket, I put the ball cap on my head and pulled the bill low over my eyes. It wouldn’t keep the paps from recognizing me, but it helped me to evade their questions and ignore them.
When I walked into the hallway, I spotted one of our kickers and a good friend, Roan, holding his one-year-old daughter on his hip. He laughed and slung his arm around his pregnant wife and kissed her temple as they watched their four-year-old little girl do a victory dance.
I tamped down the sudden jealousy blooming inside me. It was an unwelcome feeling, and I silently cursed Cleo and the day that I met her. Even though a little part of me would always be grateful for those few minutes I’d spent with her. Perhaps someday, they would just be a fond memory when I met the right woman. Although, knowing how rare a connection like that was, I didn’t see it ever happening with someone else.
I hurried to the exit and barged through the door, stomping out into the parking lot. The crisp fall air felt good on my heated skin. There were some press gathered there, but security was keeping them corralled so I tucked my cap even lower and ignored anyone calling my name. I turned to the right and headed straight to my car with a single-minded goal. However, I’d only made it a couple of steps when my focus was shattered by the sound of my name being shouted in a familiar voice. One that sent a shot of desire straight to my dick, followed by a surge of anger at myself for being affected by it.
My feet froze in place for a few seconds, then I slowly twisted my head around and immediately spotted Cleo, standing off to the side of the press, but behind the security rope line. Even if I’d been looking at them before she called out to me, I probably would have missed her because she’d worn a sweatshirt and had the hood up, hiding her very noticeable hair.
"Rigby! I know what you think, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Please, can we talk for just a minute?"
I shrugged and shook my head. "There’s nothing to say. You’re with—”
"I’m not!" she argued vehemently. “It’s a misunderstanding. Please, just give me a chance to explain.”
I’d never been a guy who played games off the field, and I wasn’t about to start. I also wouldn’t give advice that I wasn’t willing to follow. So like I’d told Dempsey, if there was any chance that I could have what I wanted, I was going to take it. And there was no denying that I wanted Cleo.
However, I was wary from past experiences—way, way past. Although I was generally a good judge of character, there were always snakes in the grass. Just like all of my teammates, I’d been burned by social climbing, money grubbing people at one point in time.
But I also appreciated that Cleo was keeping a low profile with the press. So while I wasn’t ready to give her the benefit of the doubt, I was willing to listen.
“Jimmy,” I addressed the guard standing closest to my gi—Cleo. “Let her through,” I ordered. With raised eyebrows he pointed at Cleo, and I nodded. I understood his shock, I never spoke to the press unless the coach or front office forced me to. And in the five years that I’d been with the Nighthawks, I’d never been seen with a woman who wasn’t related to me.
Jimmy raised the rope, and Cleo ducked beneath it before swiftly walking toward me. I waited until she was a foot away, then jerked my chin at her and spun around. The last thing I wanted was to be overheard by the press and give them any fodder for a story.