CHAPTER 5 JOLENE

"Can you get Cade and me into this?" Jonah asks me on Wednesday morning over breakfast. We haven't officially moved into Sam's place yet, but it's the plan for this weekend since my rental company wants me out by the end of the month.

He hands me a flyer, and I read it out loud.

"Youth football camp hosted by Cory Marshall and Austin Graham of the Vegas Aces. One day only. Register by…" I trail off and scan through the details. "It's this Saturday. You want me to sign you up?"

He nods. "A kid at school said it's full but I figured you can get us in. It's so cool that you know real football players, Mom."

Well I can't not be cool in my seven-year-old's eyes, right?

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises."

He grins. "Thanks, Mom." He leaps up from the table to hug me. "You're the best."

Now I really have to make it work.

As it turns out, the event is being put together by Ellie Dalton—the publicist who manages many Aces players. I haven't formally met her yet, but I've heard great things.

I look her up and give her a call after Jonah catches the bus.

"Prince Charming Public Relations," a voice answers.

"Hi there. My name is Jolene Bailey, and I'm the Vegas Aces correspondent with VG-oh-three. I'm looking for Ellie Dalton."

"This is Ellie, and hi, Jolene! I'm a big fan and I am so excited to talk to you." She's bubbly and sweet and she already feels like a friend.

"You're so kind," I say, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty.

"What can I do for you?"

"My son just told me about the camp Marshall and Graham are hosting this weekend and I was wondering if you could snag me a couple spots for it. I'd be happy to cover the event for VG-oh-three," I offer.

"News coverage? That's a definite yes. I do know the camp has been filled for weeks, though, and we have space limitations due to fire codes," she says. "Let me see what I can do and I'll get back to you in a bit."

"Thanks, Ellie. I appreciate it."

True to her word, Ellie calls me back about an hour later when I'm deep into editing the interviews from the other day for the charity event.

"Great news. We had twin boys drop just last night because apparently they're into baseball now instead of football, so we have two spots open."

I laugh. "I will take them, and I'll get my camera crew out there with me."

"This is great. I'll send over the waivers and information."

I give her my email address, and it looks like I have some weekend plans now. As does Sam…who can meet two hot, single football players and, you know, maybe score with one of them.

And maybe I could score with the other, though that would look about as good as it would look for me to score with the coach. Especially because both of them are significantly younger than me.

Maybe Sam can get really lucky and score with both.

And I can sit over here on the sidelines pretending like I'm not obsessed with Lincoln.

I blow out a breath. This is hard.

Reporting on his team is hard.

He's never far from my thoughts as it is, but usually work serves as my distraction. He's involved in every aspect of my job now, though, making that an impossible feat.

And what's worse is I just found out this morning that Marcus scored me a ticket to the graduation ceremony at Lincoln's alma mater so I can watch him give the commencement address.

Lincoln Nash giving a motivational speech and I'm supposed to cover it and pretend like my fucking ovaries aren't exploding. Fun.

Saturday rolls around, and to my surprise, both Austin and Cory are the ones checking kids in for the camp. It's actually their camp, not just some camp run by someone else that they make an appearance at, and I'm impressed from the word go.

The event is taking place at a high school starting at eight in the morning and running until four, and Sam and I plan to be here all day for it. Dave is stopping by around ten to grab some footage, and I'll get more on my phone if I need it.

It's a little before ten when Austin jogs over toward me. I'm standing near the fence with Sam, and we were just about to head over to the bleachers to sit for a bit.

"You're Jolene Bailey from VG-oh-three," he says.

"That's me. And you're Austin Graham, tight end of the Vegas Aces." I flash him a smile, and he grins back.

"I'm a huge fan," he says.

"Back at you. I can't wait to watch what you've got in store this season."

"Thanks," he says. "Are you just here reporting?"

I shake my head. "The kid in the neon orange is mine."

He chuckles. "Jonah? He's really good. He's got natural ability."

"What about Cade in the Minecraft shirt?" Sam asks, hopping into our conversation.

"Yeah, he's doing great too."

Sam preens and turns her attention back to the boys, and I giggle at her.

"I can see natural defensive abilities in Jonah. Your father played, right?"

I nod and feel myself flush a little. Is he flirting with me? He knows my dad played, he thinks my son is doing well. And if he is flirting…am I kind of flattered?

Yes. Very.

He's a hot football player with a tight end.

I mean…he's got a hot tight end.

I mean…

Yeah. I said what I said.

I clear my throat. "He was a cornerback for the Giants for many years."

"And he taught you everything you know about football?"

I laugh. "Something like that. I've done a fair bit of research over the years, too, but I did grow up around the game."

"Well your knowledge is second to none. I always tune into VG-oh-three first before the ESPN highlights."

He's definitely flirting.

"Well, you know, that was all my predecessor. But I'm so excited to take it over, and I'd love to do a player profile on you if you're up for it."

"Fuck yeah I'm up for it. We can talk about the other youth camps I run or, you know, whatever. Maybe over dinner?" he suggests.

I don't want to decline since I want the interview, but it's also probably wrong to lead him on when it would be a conflict of interest for me to date a player, but I don't actually get the chance to decline.

Someone else steps in to do it for me.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

We both whip around at the sound of his voice, and there stands Lincoln Fucking Nash, black Aces t-shirt stretched over strong biceps and mirrored sunglasses covering his eyes to give me even fewer clues as to what he might be thinking.

God, he's hot. It's not fair.

"Coach, I'm so glad you showed up," Austin says, stiffening a little at the sight of his coach.

I, on the other hand, feel venom freeze my veins.

"You don't think what is a good idea?" I ask him.

"Graham taking you out on a date. It's a conflict of interest, never mind the age difference."

"The age difference?" I ask, and I swear to God, this asshole just loves to get a rise out of me.

"Graham, what are you…twenty-five?" He asks. He jerks a thumb at me. "She's thirty-four."

"Age is just a number," I sniff haughtily, but how fucking dare he?

"Oh, I wasn't asking her out," Austin says, but he totally was, and seeing him cower under the presence of his coach is a total turn-off anyway. "I should get back to the players. Thanks, Ms. Bailey."

"It was lovely chatting with you, Austin," I say, my voice all low and raspy just to push Lincoln's buttons a little more.

"You too." He scampers back to the field.

"Uh, excuse me," Sam says. "Just going to run over to…" She trails off as she walks away from us, not hiding the fact at all that she's giving Lincoln and me a moment alone.

"What the fuck was that?" I demand.

"You're welcome. I'm sure that was uncomfortable for you." He chuckles a little. He knows exactly what he just did, and he thinks this is funny.

"It wasn't. He's a nice guy."

"He's a child, Jolene. You deserve a man." His voice is low.

"Like you?" I challenge.

"Oh no. Definitely not me."

"So what…you can't have me and nobody else can, either?" I hiss.

"That's not what that was. He should be on the field with those kids, not flirting with a reporter." He's so casual about it, and I want to slap him. Hard.

But I also want him to rail me. Hard.

"But it's fine for you?" I ask.

"I'm not flirting with you."

"Bullshit."

"There are children around, Ms. Bailey. You should watch your language."

"I hate you," I mutter.

"That's the thing. I don't really believe you when you say that."

I huff. "What are you even doing here?"

"I heard you'd be here."

A traitorous butterfly flaps wildly around my chest.

"Kidding. Graham and Marshall invited me to stop by and check out what they do for their kids camps. I had a free minute this morning and it's a beautiful spring Vegas day, so I stopped by. But I have to be honest, Bailey. I didn't like seeing him flirting with you."

"What difference does it make to you?" I practically spit at him.

"Maybe you're right," he murmurs.

"About what?" I demand.

"I can't have you, but nobody else can, either." Those are the last words spoken between us before he runs out onto the field to jump into helping coach the boys in the camp.

And for some reason, when I see Lincoln talking to my son about a big play he just made, the hot threat of tears pinch behind my eyes.

That should've been our boy.

It should have worked between us.

But it didn't, and now it can't.