Chapter Three

Blake

I 'm sitting in the locker room at Tampa. Typically we'll do walk-throughs before away games at home, but they're having to fix part of our turf in Nashville. Instead of our normal routine, we're debriefing here as well, and then we'll have the afternoon to ourselves before we have to report to the team hotel. I'm sitting next to my brother, laughing at a text our mom has sent us with photos of us as children.

"Got something for you," Moose, our left tackle on the offensive line, says as he interrupts with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"You know my brother works for Willa, right? He's her sound tech. She gave him something to pass along."

The locker room goes quiet as we stare at each other. He hands me a package wrapped in brown craft paper. My name is stamped on it, and a lavender ribbon is tied around it with a bow.

"Open it."

"Oh my God, is that from who I think it's from?"

"She responded, Blake. Holy fuck." Bret smacks me on the chest.

Everything the guys are saying is everything I'm feeling right now, but I don't want to do this in front of them. "Thanks for the confidence you all had in me. Don't think I didn't hear all the shit you talked." I point to each of them in turn. "Because of that, you don't get to see what this is."

I bypass the showers, get dressed in street gear, and head out to the rental car I have for this trip. When I get inside and lock the doors, I breathe deeply. Do I want to open it here, where anyone might be able to watch? Where one of my teammates can roll up on me and ruin the moment? No, that's not what I want. Quickly, I start the SUV and put it in gear, heading for the hotel.

It's a long ride up in the elevator, but as soon as I make it to my room, I throw my shit down and tear open the package. On the bracelet, it says text me - along with a phone number.

B: Thanks for letting me shoot my shot, Willa. Maybe one day we could hang out?

I don't expect her to answer me immediately, but she does.

W: I know you're in town for a game, but don't you all get some personal time? Would you like to come hang with me, today? It'll be in the privacy of my suite. No one will be watching us, or trying to get a picture.

My heart pounds in my chest. This is more than I was prepared for, but I'm willing to take whatever is coming my way.

B: Sounds good. I need a shower—we just had a workout and a walk through.

W: I'll send someone over, if that's okay with you? I don't want to emasculate you or anything, but it's easier if I let my security team help me.

I laugh loudly.

B: No, whatever helps you I'm willing to do. That has nothing to do with me or my feelings. You let me know what you're comfortable with. I'm staying with the team at the Four Seasons.

W: Perfect. You're not super far from me, but with traffic it might take a bit. See you in an hour? I'll send them over to you in about forty-five?

B: See you soon.

I throw my phone down and do a little dance. I've not had this giddiness in my stomach since I was a teenager on my first fuckin' date. But this? This is the celebrity crush I've had for years, and I took a chance. What the fuck is this life, and how did I get here?

I'm standing outside the back entrance of the hotel when a blacked out Escalade pulls up, and the passenger side window is rolled down.

"Blake?"

"That's me," I answer, although I'm ready to run just in case this isn't Willa's security detail. I do pretty good in the thirty-yard dash, and I can kick up the speed when I need to.

"We're here for Willa," the man in the passenger seat says. "Would you like to see some identification?"

"If you don't mind." I may not be as famous as her, but I've had some run-ins before. There have been a few times when I was lucky to get out of the situation I found myself in.

The man in the passenger seat grabs a leather wallet-like case out of his suit pocket and hands it to me. It indicates he's a member of Willa's security team, along with telling me his name and a number you can call to verify the details. If he's willing to give me this information, I'm willing to believe he is who he says he is.

"Where do you want me?" I ask.

"Back seat is fine. The windows are blacked out—no one will be able to see you."

I get in with a salute to the men. It's not very often I'm driven anywhere. Most of the time I prefer to be the one behind the wheel. It's nice, though, watching the scenery go by. It reminds me of what it was like when I was in college, and I was too scared to drive anywhere. I spent most of my college years partying way too much. Instead of getting a DUI, I just chose to always be the person who asked for rides. Not to mention that meant I didn't have to pay for a car or car insurance. But it's been years since that was my reality.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I shoot off a text.

B: I'm on my way to you. It's kinda baller you have your own security team who just roll up and take care of people when you want them to.

W: LMAO! I learned pretty quickly that if I didn't want the paparazzi following me everywhere, I had to make it so I couldn't easily be found. I sometimes miss driving myself around, but I can do it when I want to.

B: Wow.

W: Does that worry you? The fact that I have people watching what I'm doing a lot of the time? Right now, it's really bad because of the tour. I can hide in plain sight, but it's getting harder. One time I went for a whole year without anyone seeing me because I thought that was what the public wanted, but I've been being more public lately.

B: No, that doesn't bother me. Certain situations come with me too. I say stupid shit, and sometimes I don't know when to do the right thing. People think they know me because they see me on TV every Sunday during the season. All I do is toss a ball around, I can't imagine what it would be like to be you.

W: Good. I'm glad we got that out of the way before this even starts.

B: What is this going to be?

I'm a forward guy, and just because this is Willa Potter, it doesn't mean I'll be changing who I am just to fit some kind of boyfriend mold she's created.I already did that in my last relationship. Tried to not be brash and showy on the field. She didn't like that I do dances in the end zone, and scream when I'm pumped. I'm not looking for anyone who's going to try and change me. Instead, I'm looking for someone I can grow with.

W: I don't know, but I guess we're about to find out.

A smirk works its way across my face.

She's sassy.

I fuckin' like it.