Most Valuable Playboy

I have to be the one to lead my own damn career.

When the pre-game team meeting in the hotel conference room ends that evening, I don’t leave with my teammates. I walk over to Greenhaven and ask if I can have a word. He turns away from his assistant coaches and tells them he’ll be right back. We head into a private room off the conference area, and he shuts the door.

“What can I do for you, Cooper?”

My first name. There it is again. That’s who I want to be for him. But I can’t be that guy if I’m lying. I clear my throat. “I wanted to thank you for the invitation to dinner with your wife.”

He nods. “Of course.” He takes a beat, studies my face, and reads me loud and clear. “But you didn’t need to pull me aside for that.”

“No. I didn’t.” I take a deep, fueling breath. “I’m not really involved with Violet.”

His brow furrows. His eyes register surprise. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Greenhaven flummoxed. “You’re not?”

“I am, but I’m not.”

“You might want to explain that better.”

“Something happened at the auction. Someone wanted to bid on me,” I say, not giving away Maxine’s name. “And I didn’t want that person to win. So Violet bid, and when the host of the auction saw us on stage, she figured we were together, and I didn’t correct her. I said she was my girlfriend, and we kept it up.”

He raises an index finger like a professor making a point. “But you go around with her like you are with her. You stopped by the hospital, she kissed you at the game last week, you post those pictures on your feed . . .”

“You see my Instagram?”

“I’m aware of what my players post on social media. Are you saying it was all a lie?”

That word cuts straight through my chest, a sharp knife to my heart. Nothing has felt more true than my feelings for Violet. “I’m saying it started that way. I did it to make my life easier, but then somewhere along the way, I fell in love with her.” I hold up a hand. “I know that doesn’t excuse the fact that it started as a ruse. I’m not trying to make it all okay. The kiss on the field was real. At least to me, it felt real. Going to visit the kids was absolutely real, and to tell the truth, that’s probably when I knew in my heart I was in love with her.” I swallow and push past my fear that I’m upending my chances with the team.

His lips twitch. “A man doesn’t look at a woman the way you do without it being real.”

I flash back to the day in his office. To the gift he ordered for his wife. To the way he talks about Emily. This man is still crazy in love with his woman. That must be what he sees in me when I look at Violet, when I talk about Violet.

“It is real. For me, at least. I have no idea if she feels the same. But I needed you to know the full truth. I want to carry this team. But I want to do it as a leader, not as a liar. And if I ever come to your house for dinner, I don’t want to be the guy who sits down at your table with you and your wife unless all my cards are on the table, too.” I spread my hands in front of me, gesturing to the imaginary table. “These are my cards.”

He nods, the wheels in his head turning, it seems. “I appreciate you showing them to me.”

And that’s it. That’s all he says.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to the coaches.”

I leave, having no clue if I just blew up my future with the Renegades.





31





“You did what?”

I sink into the chair in Jones’s room. “I told him everything.”

He drags both hands through his dark hair. “What in the actual fuck?”

“I know, right?”

“No, I mean what in the actual fuck are your balls made of?”

I laugh, the first good laugh I’ve had all day.

He gestures to my crotch. “Are they steel? Are they titanium? Are they some new fucking substance cloned from the DNA of the toughest badasses in the world? Special forces guys and paratroopers and bounty hunters?”

“Maybe just pure stupidity.”

Jones shakes his head. “Nope. Not stupidity.” He claps his hand on my shoulder. “You’re a steely-eyed missile-man, and I will follow you into battle.”

I give him a look like he’s crazy. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

“Dude, I have motherfucking chills. Look at me.” He holds out his arms, and yup, the hairs stand on end.

“This is weird. I’m in your hotel room, and you’re showing me the hair on your arms.”

“Because you’re like a Navy SEAL, man. You march in there, you see the commanding officer, you tell him the whole truth, so help you God. And you leave without him telling you what he thinks. You have the biggest cojones I’ve seen.”

“You’ve been checking out my cojones, have you? You peek in the showers, right?”

He gazes heavenward. “Why do I compliment him? Why?”

I smile. “Thanks, Jones. I needed this. I feel a little insane right now. I texted Ford afterward and told him, and his only reply was Go kick Baltimore’s ass tomorrow, you fucking superstar. I have no clue what that means.”

Jones furrows his brow. “Do you want me to play text message interpretation with you?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“I’m going to do it anyway. It means a cigar is just a cigar. It means go kick Baltimore’s ass tomorrow.”

I hold up a fist for bumping. “That sounds like a plan.”

“It’s an excellent plan. It’s precisely what we’re going to do. Because you’re not insane. You’re a field general. You’re the motherfucking quarterback.”

And that’s what I do the next day against the enemy. I lead the team down the field as fifty thousand raving Baltimore Cougars fans boo us like we’re the Ebola virus.

And I don’t care.

I’m all business from the first possession when I take the snap, hand off to Harlan, and we earn a first down.

From there, I do my goddamn job with blinders on, tuning out the crowd, tuning out the noise, listening only to my head and gut. I call an audible when I see their defense switch from man-to-man to zone coverage. My receivers change routes, and several seconds later, I lob a pass to Jones in his smelly socks, who grabs it fluidly, darts around the safety, and takes that prize another twenty yards.

The rest of the drive is clockwork. A short pass to McCormick on second down. A handoff to long-haired Harlan, and then the bastard shows off his quicksilver feet, darting, dodging, and taking the ball right into the end zone.

It’s a beautiful start, and I high-five him.

Our defense holds them to three, but when we get the ball again, their line nearly mows us down, and we barely get into field position. But we manage, and when Einstein spits out his bubblegum, he sends the ball soaring thirty-seven yards between the goalposts.

I bump fists with him when he comes off the field, grab some water, and watch the defense. Greenhaven glances my way and gives me a nod.