Her blue eyes met mine and widened.
What was she doing out here?
The whistle blew, sharp and loud, but Kareem shoved forward a split second before I did. Because, of course, I hadn't fully been paying attention. That was enough for me to have to dig my cleats in and push against him, our shoulders wedged against each other as we fought for the dominant position.
A bright pulse of anger went unchecked that I hadn't flipped him over yet because of her, and that was enough for me to shove him over onto his back.
The guys cheered, some groaned, and Logan watched us with a slight smile on his face.
"Not bad, Griffin," he said.
I held out a hand, and Kareem took it. He slapped my back in a half-hug when he was back on his feet.
"Asshole," he said, but he was smiling.
"Pansy," I returned, which made him laugh.
The crowd dissipated as they started lining up for drills, and when I was about to do the same, the suits and the cameras—and Molly—approached Coach Ward and me.
He looked about as happy as I was at their presence. The one thing he wasn't was surprised. "Can I help you?"
The woman, statuesque and composed and entirely out of place on a practice field, looked me up and down slowly, like I was under a spotlight. I fought not to curl my lip up at her.
"Noah Griffin?" she asked, holding out her hand. I took it. "I'm Beatrice Kelly, Chief Marketing Officer for Washington."
"Pleasure to meet you," I said stiffly. It wasn't. I wanted to be practicing.
As Beatrice introduced herself to Logan, Molly clutched a black and red clipboard to her chest, face blank, and eyes trained on the bright green turf.
"If you don't mind, the crew will be here filming for the remainder of practice, and then I'd like to steal fifteen minutes with both you and Noah when you're done."
Logan glanced at me, then back at her. "And if I do mind?"
She smiled slowly, eyes about as warm as a block of ice. "Then you can take it up with Cameron after practice, and after we've met with Noah."
I saw Molly take a slow inhale, her cheeks taking on a soft pink color. Personally, I didn't want to meet with this woman after practice, but I'd been playing long enough to know that sometimes, you had to do shit you didn't want to do.
The look that Logan gave Beatrice would've made the biggest, scariest linebacker shrink back, but she was completely undaunted. Even I was glad I wasn't on the receiving end of it.
"I need fifteen minutes, Coach Ward," she repeated. "We can do it now, or we can do it after practice. I'll give you the choice."
He snorted.
I dropped my chin to my chest as he mulled over her offer.
"Griffin, should we get this done now?" he asked quietly.
Pushing my tongue into my cheek, I looked at all the faces in front of me, quick glances as I tried to figure out what the hell this had to do with me. I just wanted to play. Was that too much to ask?
The face that snagged my gaze for just a fraction longer than everyone else's was Molly's.
Today, she was in a black shirt and bright red jeans. She matched her boss, matched the field, and for some reason, it hammered home just how much more this place was hers than it was mine.
"Let's get this done now," I said.
Beatrice smiled again, just a touch of thawing to the cold from earlier. "Excellent. Logan? I assume you know where my office is."
His answer was a short nod.
"Great. We'll see you there in ten minutes."
They walked away, leaving Logan and me with our hands braced on our hips and annoyed expressions on our faces.
"What the hell is that about?" I mused.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Griffin, believe me when I say that I wish there was a way to avoid this."
My face turned sharply in his direction. "That bad?"
"Yeah," he said tightly. "For guys like you and me? It's everything we hate about playing."
Once he'd given some instructions to an assistant coach, we started walking toward Beatrice's office, and I thought about what he said.
Everything we hated about playing. Great.
Chapter Six
Noah
"Thank you for joining me, gentleman," she said from where she sat across a massive, gleaming desk. Her ice gray eyes landed on my face, and she smiled, a completely different kind of smile now that we were on her turf. "How's the transition to Washington going, Noah? It can't be easy to change teams so close to kickoff."
The guy holding the camera in the corner had it pointed straight at my face, and the focus, solely on me, made my skin prickle.
"I'm excited to be here." I answered like I was facing the media and not someone in-house. "And I'm excited to get to work."
Logan sighed. "Exactly. Work. Practice. Which is where we're supposed to be right now."
The grumpiness was so evident that I almost cracked a smile. Only two days into my time at Washington, and I found someone with less people skills than I had.
Beatrice sliced her gaze to the camera and nodded. "A moment, please. We won't need this. And tell Molly I'll be ready in five."
My jaw clenched involuntarily.
Silence cloaked the office as the camera guy stood and gave us some privacy.
"I'll cut the chase. Amazon is including Washington in an upcoming season of their All or Nothing documentary, and you're the player they'd like to highlight."
I sat forward, eyebrows tucked in tightly over my eyes. "What? Why?"
Logan rubbed the back of his neck but didn't say anything.
"The narrative for this season is finding and fitting in to the culture of a team. I've been working on this deal since the day I told Cameron and Allie they should hire me, and we just needed the right player." Her smile softened, and it changed the hard angles of her face. "And that player is you."
"I don't want to have cameras on me all season." I shook my head. "Don't get me wrong, they do a great job. I watched the LA and the Michigan season, and they were great. But being under that spotlight is the last thing I want. I'm here to play football."
She took a deep breath. "Let me rephrase this while it's just the three of us in this office, okay?"
Something about the way she said it made me sit back again and breathe deeply to dismantle the brick that suddenly appeared in my stomach. Logan gave me a quick, uncomfortable glance, and I had a feeling he knew exactly what was going through my brain.
This wasn't a negotiation. It was a courtesy.
"You are the best defensive end in the league. By the time this season wraps up, no one will be able to touch the records that you'll break." Her eyes were so intense, words so coldly delivered that I practically saw frost come from her mouth. Not in a mean way, but in a way that I knew, without a doubt, I'd hate whatever she was about to say next. "But all of that will be overshadowed if people think you got kicked off your team because you hit on your team captain's drunk wife while she was unable to defend herself."
I was out of my chair before I took another breath. "That story is bullshit, and you know it."
Logan stood, laying a calming hand on my back. "Of course, she does. We all do."
My heart was thrashing wildly, every iron shred of my will gone in tatters at the mere suggestion that I'd become a salacious headline. Slowly, I lowered myself back into my chair and fought with white-knuckled grip to gain control of my irritation.
"The story is bullshit," she said calmly. "I never doubted it. The people in the front office in Miami know that, which is why there hasn’t been a single whisper about it to the media."
“Yet you know about it.”
She smiled. “Professional courtesy from someone in their offices who I used to work for.”