9. Lucia

Max’s incessant texts hadn’t let up for the first two days after the news had come out. They’d slowed after that when he’d realized she was still ignoring him. Isa, on the other hand, had been texting her about it every hour, even after the phone call when Lucia had given her all the details, including the fact that it was all fake.

Despite knowing she’d likely regret her impulsive decision to agree to Colton’s plan, Lucia knew it was better to be able to call the shots than take them as the media threw them. And she was also big enough to acknowledge that, no matter how immature it might be, there was some satisfaction in knowing what dating Max’s nemesis must be doing to him. All she had to do was look at the hundreds of texts he’d sent to know an extra report a day was absolutely worth it.

Lucia knew no matter what Colton said, his game was getting better. They’d won all three of their regular season games to that point, and Colton was leading the charge for all of those wins. She liked to believe it was, at least in part, because of her. He’d even lightened up during their sessions, as if their relationship was some kind of truce.

The more she was able to improve Colton’s game, the higher the chance that other teams would want to bring her on to do something similar for their quarterbacks. She wasn’t sure if the Sabers would extend her contract after her first season, but at least if she did this right, she would have her pick of the other teams.

She was startled from her distracted film perusal when the man in question opened her door, a grim expression on his face.

“Okay, don’t be mad.”

Her eye twitched. “What did you do?”

“Well, it’s not what I did so much as what I didn’t do.”

She was not amused, and she hoped her face made that clear. To really hit home, she crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the split second where his eyes traveled down to the newly exposed skin of her chest.

“I forgot to tell you that I have outreach today, so I actually can’t meet right now.”

She sighed. “We really need to work on your timing on and off the field. You’re supposed to let me know if you can’t make a session before the session, not five minutes into it.”

“I know, I know. Like I said, I forgot. I’ll make up for it tomorrow, promise.” He started to walk out but turned back around. “Actually, why don’t you come?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think they really let analysts go to those things.”

“How about girlfriends?”

“I don’t think that’s any better.”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re not busy right now because your boyfriend skipped out on his session. So let’s go. It’ll be fun, I promise. And if not, I owe you any food of your choosing. Even if it’s just player food from the third floor.” He grinned. “Plus, the publicity will be good for us, and Tessa will be jumping for joy.”

“Fine, but know that I’m only going for your wallet and all the food it’ll buy me when I don’t have fun.”

He nodded once, the grin never leaving his face. It’d thrown Lucia off, how disarmingly charming he could be when they weren’t trying to kill each other. She kind of liked seeing him like this. Not that she’d ever say it to his face.

They took the elevator to the first floor before walking over to the stadium through one of the private side entrances.

“What’re you guys doing for outreach today?” She shivered when he placed a hand on her lower back, willing the butterflies that formed to fly away. Or better yet, die.

“A bunch of kids from local elementary schools are coming to play with us. We’re gonna run some drills with them and then do some seven-on-sevens.”

“You know, a week ago, I thought you ate kids for breakfast.”

“What changed your mind?” he asked with humor in his voice as he led her to a nearby bench, far enough from the fray that she felt safe from any stray footballs.

“I realized you are one.”

He placed both hands on her shoulders, pushing her gently onto the bench before stepping back. “That’s funny, I thought the same about you.”

She crossed her legs as he backed away from her slowly. “Real original, Beaumont.”

After Colton joined his teammates, he squatted down to talk to the elementary school kids. Lucia noted their ages varied, though most of them were so small, they had to clutch the football with both hands.

She watched Colton stand behind a group of seven- or eight-year-olds, helping them with their stances as they learned how to throw the ball. Luckily, someone had brought junior footballs, so they were able to throw them without much of a struggle.

Her eyes rarely left him. He was like another person with them, a bright smile on his face as he corrected their forms or let them tackle him to the ground.

“Ref! Did you see how hard he hit me? Ref, come on!” It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her. Colton beckoned her to them, and she walked over hesitantly.

“Hm, I didn’t see anything. Looked like a clean hit to me.” She winked at the little boy who’d taken Colton to the ground, fist-bumping him before he grabbed the little ball and ran.

“Something tells me this ref is dirty. Who paid you off?”

“Colton Beaumont, a sore loser?”

“I might be sore, but I’m no loser.” He chased after the little boy, picking him up and raising him high in the air before he could reach the end zone.

Lucia felt someone sidle up to her. She hadn’t registered there were any girls there until she saw this child’s little ponytail and ruddy cheeks.

“Do you play football too?” the girl asked.

Lucia smiled down at her. “No, I’m not nearly as cool as you. I bet you run laps around all these stinky boys, huh?”

The little girl beamed. “I try. I’m a lot faster than most of them.” Her smile fell. “But Mama says I have to stop playing when they stop doing flag football.”

Lucia tried to hide her frown. “Why’s that?”

The little girl shrugged, placing her small hands onto the vee of her football pads. The motion was adorable, and Lucia wanted to hug her. “She keeps telling Daddy that she doesn’t want me playing with the boys because I’ll get hurt. Daddy thinks I’d be a good wide receiver, though.”

“I bet you will be.” Lucia’s eyes found Colton, who was letting another little boy wrestle him to the ground. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sadie.”

“Okay, Sadie. You see that big, stinky boy over there?” Lucia pointed at Colton, who was standing back up. When Sadie nodded, she continued, “You go tackle him, and tell your Mama you took out an NFL quarterback.”

Sadie took off. Colton’s eyes widened as she approached at full speed, slamming into him. He made eye contact with Lucia as he went down, and she bent over with laughter at his expression. She knew it was to show the little girl she was just as strong as the boys, but that made her smile wider.

He was a big softie. He never should have invited her to watch, because she wasn’t going to let him live it down. All his douchebaggery had been a front. Or maybe he’d saved it just for her.

He raised his hands in faux frustration. “Ref, come on! I saw you tell her to do that, I didn’t even have the ball.”

She jogged over to them as best she could in her heels, already yelling, “Play on!”

Their fourth regular season game coincided with the start of Lucia’s favorite month: October. The air was crisp, the sweaters and sweatshirts were out—even if Charleston didn’t always provide the coolest of weather—and the football was getting good.

Lucia felt oddly excited to stand in the end zone for Colton. The Vipers never had a tradition like this one, and even if they had, who knows if Max would’ve wanted her on the field. Excitement swirled in her chest.

Colton led the team out onto the field, and the screams of the crowd were deafening. Lucia shared a smile with one of the wives who stood beside her as they covered their ears. Blade, the Sabertooths’ mascot, jumped up and down on the field, engaging the crowd in a Sabers roar as partnered players ran over to their spouses and significant others.

Colton approached Lucia, taking his helmet off as he jogged over. The crowd was so loud that she didn’t hear the words he whispered to her. He set the helmet down at her feet and gently placed his hands on either side of her face. His forehead met hers.

“Next time, you should wear my jersey. Like them.” He inclined his head toward the women beside her, but she couldn’t move her head to look, so focused on him. Before that evening on the third floor, she’d thought his eyes were brown, but up close, she’d learned they were lighter. And was that a hint of green? She hadn’t noticed that in the darkness of the meal room.

“You forget that I’m working. I can’t very well sit in the analyst box in your jersey.”

Colton grumbled. The crowd was still cheering around them, but Lucia saw the other players start to head back toward the field.

“Are you going to kiss me? Or keep staring aggressively into my eyes?”

He sighed. “Dammit, Moretti. I was trying to bring some semblance of romance to our first kiss.” His eyes fell to her mouth. Then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers firmly.

It was a little more than a peck, and he was gone in an instant, but she was light-headed. Just the crowd, and the lights, and the cameras, she assured herself. She’d felt this rush before when thousands of eyes had rested upon her and Max during his proposal, except that had felt disingenuous, like Max had been doing it for the attention. This felt right somehow, and she didn’t know what to think about that new, excited fluttering in her chest.

It was just the attention making her feel that way. It wasn’t the kiss, and it definitely wasn’t the look in his eyes before he’d kissed her. Or that decidedly arrogant smirk she thought she’d hated until recently.

She followed the rest of the partners back through the tunnel, then found her way to her box. For the first time, the rest of the analysts acknowledged her, some of them smiling, others waving. During the first half, they listened to her both times she spoke up. They even let her proof the numbers during halftime before one of the interns ran the data to the coaches and broadcasters.

She was thankful to finally get the respect she knew she deserved, but hated that it was only because of who they believed she was dating. It was infuriating, especially when she knew she probably worked as hard as, if not harder than, all the men in that room with her. She stewed during halftime but forgot all about it in the third quarter.

Colton was taking sack after sack. His o-line was completely disrupted, giving him no time to find a receiver. Even when he handed the ball off to his running backs, they were getting stuffed at the line.

She could see how tense he was getting, could see the frustration in each of his throws. She didn’t know when she’d keyed into his movements so distinctly, but it was as obvious to her as the sun rising over the horizon on a clear day. He was pissed, and it was affecting his motion. He looked like he had during preseason.

The fourth quarter wasn’t better. Colton threw a pick, took two more sacks, and ended the game with far less yardage than their past three games. The team was deflated, and Colton was there at the center of it, yelling at the sky as fans filed out of the stadium dejectedly. The energy in the box was just as dim, and she excused herself.

Only as she walked toward the press conference room did she see the texts from Max.

Max

This little game of yours is getting pathetic, Lucia. Stop messing around.

This is ridiculous. If that kiss was for my benefit, you’re acting like a child.

She was so sick of the tone in these texts. As if he wasn’t the reason their relationship had ended. She finally broke the radio silence she’d been giving him.

Lucia

Fuck you, Max.

She knew it was immature, but she was still angry, and maybe it was time for her to stoop to his level.

Lucia

Hope you’re enjoying the blonde.

She put her phone on Do Not Disturb, tucked it into the pocket of her green pantsuit, and continued her walk.

Colton had asked her to be at his press conference after the game, though he’d been in far higher spirits when he’d made the request. When he finally entered the room and the cameras began rolling, his eyes met hers, and she could see the disappointment in them. She was sure all he wanted to do was jump into an ice bath and sleep off the aching in his muscles and tightness in his chest he’d once told her accompanied a loss.

The moment he sat down, the questions began.

“Tough loss today, Colton. Can you walk us through what happened on that crucial interception in the fourth quarter, and what you might have done differently looking back?”

He paused to think. “Yeah, I mean, I saw the coverage and thought I had a window to make the throw. I should’ve recognized the pressure from the defense and scanned the field for another option.”

“It seemed like the offensive line had some struggles today, allowing multiple sacks. How did that impact your ability to execute the game plan, and do you think protection is an area that needs improvement?”

“I think we were struggling as a unit, but the blame is on me. I need to do better at scrambling when the time is right.”

She had to stop herself from scoffing. He needed to stop taking responsibility for things that weren’t his fault. His offensive line had been shit all game, and he’d been scrambling well until the last quarter.

As if he sensed her thoughts, he met her eyes again. “We talk about protection every week. It’s always an area that can use improvement.”

Her chest constricted as she watched his shoulders droop a bit. She realized he’d completely internalized the loss as his fault, just like the preseason losses, as if he were a one-man team. When the Sabers lost, it was his fault. When they won, it was a team effort. No wonder he was the team captain.

“You”ve had some great moments this season, but today was a setback. What’s the team”s mindset moving forward, and how do you plan to bounce back from this disappointing loss?”

“Absolutely, today was a setback, but our mindset remains positive and determined. We”ve had great moments this season, and we”re fully aware of our potential. We’ll go back to the drawing board, study our mistakes, and use this loss as motivation. We”re not defined by one game, and our goal is to bounce back stronger and more focused for the next challenge.”

“Thanks, Colton.” The journalist turned to Coach Turner. “Coach, tough loss. What will you be focusing on this week during practice?”

Lucia tuned him out as she watched Colton stand and walk out of the room quietly. She left from the other door, meaning to catch him before he went home for the night. At first, he didn’t notice her in the shadows as he stalked toward the exit that led to the facility. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed firmly together.

He finally saw her, pausing in front of her. His eyes were dark, swirling with all kinds of emotions she couldn’t place, but she knew he was mad. She knew it from the set of his shoulders and the dip between his brows.

Lucia didn’t know how to make him feel better. All she was good for was numbers, and that was the last thing he needed. She stepped forward into the light, and his eyes tracked her movements warily, fixating on the hand that raised slightly at her side.

Before she knew what she was doing, heart pounding, she’d placed her hand on his stubbled cheek, the way he had when she’d seen that dreaded headline a week and a half earlier. He leaned into it, just barely, just for a moment.

Then the moment was over, and his large hand was clasping hers, gently pulling it away from his face. He squeezed it once and disappeared out the door, leaving a very confused and very warm Lucia.