Love in the End Zone Read online

  A reporter stopped me. I didn’t recognize her, but she had credentials hanging around her neck. “Trent, Veronica Tate, from the Chronicle, do you have a minute?” she asked, holding out her mic.

  This was what players thrived on. Celebrating. Talking up the team and our season. Not giving some chick in the stands who was bitter about a loss any attention. Granted, I understood the feeling. To feel so passionate about something that you spout off to the first person you come across. No one liked to lose. Still, her reaction irked me.

  One of my teammates ran by and slammed a divisional championship cap on my head. I chuckled and brought my attention to the reporter. “Sorry about that, Veronica. Of course, go ahead.”

  “Thank you. First, congratulations on your win.”

  I nodded. “Thank you so much. The team worked really hard, and I’m just happy it all paid off. The Thunder is a tough organization. They had us on the ropes today.”

  “Yes, well, I’m going to jump right in and ask the question everyone is clamoring to know.”

  I bent at the waist to bring my ear closer to her. I didn’t want to miss what she wanted to ask. Although, questions and answers to the obvious were already filtering in my head.

  “Was the play to take it yourself designed that way?”—No.

  “What do you plan on fixing, moving on to the playoffs?”—The team will go over today’s film and study. I’ll get back to you on that one.

  “You have the Austin Stars next. Do you think the Rockets’ defensive line can handle Austin’s explosive offense?”—That’s an easy one, yes. Of course, after that I’d wink. Didn’t want to appear too arrogant.

  “Do you think you’ll be the league’s MVP?”—There are a lot of skilled players in the league. I’d be honored, but that isn’t my goal. Winning it all for DC is.

  Veronica nodded to her cameraperson, who took a step closer. “What did you do to the woman in the stands to provoke such a… well… greeting?”

  I straightened and stared at Veronica. How did she see the woman in the stands? And that was her question? I shifted my focus to the camera and smirked. “Well, I guess that was her way of telling me I was number one in her book.”

  The man behind the lens chuckled. Veronica gave me a weak grin. “So not an ex?” Was she writing a sports’ article or a gossip column? When I didn’t answer, Veronica wrapped up what she called an interview. “Good luck next week.”

  “Thanks,” I said dryly and did my best to hide my annoyance before moving on to a couple more interviews about the game and not an opinionated blonde.

  ***

  Jackson and I sat in my living room relaxing with beer and watching the Sunday night game between the Austin Stars and the Nebraska Lightning. The outcome didn’t matter, since Nebraska was in a rebuilding year. They had a great organization, and they were in the running, but I got a better offer.

  “Stars look good,” Jackson said, taking a pull from the longneck bottle.

  “They do.” I observed their defensive lineman barely missing a sack.

  “Look out for him.”

  We watched the first half, taking notes and coming up with a few plays we would run by the coach on Tuesday since we had tomorrow off.

  The whistle signaling halftime blew and a commercial came on. I pushed off the leather chair and stood. “Want another beer?”

  Jackson lifted his bottle, drained it, and nodded. “Sure, thanks.” The doorbell rang. “That must be the pizza, I’ll grab it.”

  “Okay, I’ll get our beer.”

  With our dinner and drinks, we plopped onto the sofa just as my face popped up on the screen.

  “There’s our pretty boy,” Jackson crooned, chuckling around a piece of pepperoni.

  Ignoring him, I went to take a bite of my slice when an image appeared. No, not really an image, a meme. A meme of the girl flipping me off, with the Thunder’s logo over her finger on one side, and me on the other. Despite her crassness, she looked gorgeous. I, on the other hand, looked dumbfounded. Wide eyes, mouth in the shape of an O, and the caption, “Are you talking to me?” scrawled across my chest.

  Jackson’s laugh had me scowling. “Oh my God. This is too good.” Then he paused. “Wait… what did they just say her name was?”

  “I don’t know, jackass, you were too busy laughing.” I grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and rewound the broadcast.

  “Thunder’s owner, Charles Reese’s granddaughter and namesake, Reese Parker, seemed to have a message for America’s favorite quarterback.”

  Everything started to sound like a mess of blurred words. “Granddaughter?” I whispered. That wasn’t Reese’s granddaughter. I met her. She was a brunette, worked in the front office with her husband.

  “Looks like you pissed off a part of his family,” Jackson offered as an explanation. “But wow is she gorgeous. And practically football royalty. Great job.”

  Jackson knew I had almost signed with the Thunder. He also knew how I struggled with the decision that was made for me. That withstanding, obscene gestures caught on camera weren’t my thing. Still staring at the screen, I shook my head and used my pizza slice as a pointer to the image in front of us. “Dude, I’m a meme. This is the last thing I need before playoffs. Do you know what this means? My social media is going to be blowing up.”

  “Don’t let it distract you or coach will flip out.”

  Flip out? He was going to lose it. One thing Coach Mark prided himself on was his players keeping their noses clean. Despite any fines a league could impose for behavior unbecoming, he had his own set of rules. None of this was my fault, but still, he might not see it that way. “You’re right. I need to put a stop to it.”

  Jackson nodded and took another bite out of the slice in his hand. After swallowing, he asked, “How do you plan on doing that? Looks like the media loves her.”

  When I glanced at the television, images of Reese at the local children’s hospital, volunteering at a school in the city, and then serving dinner at one of the shelters on Thanksgiving flitted across the screen. In each image she had a tray of cookies in her hand.

  “Yeah, and she loves sweets.”

  “Are you not listening?”

  “To what? I’m watching this just like you.”

  He bobbed his head up and down. “Then you know she works at a cookie bakery.” Well, that made sense. Weird that she didn’t work for her grandfather, especially being so passionate about the game. “So, now what?” he asked, knowing me well enough to realize a plan was formulating in my mind.

  “Looks like it’s time to satisfy my sweet tooth.”

  “What are you going to do? Order cookies in hopes to get in her good graces?”

  “No, I’m going to ask her out on a date.”

  Beer flew out of Jackson’s mouth and sprayed my coffee table. He leaned forward and wiped it up with his napkin before turning toward me and grinning. My tight end and best friend knew that when I put my mind to something, I didn’t let it falter. Right now, all that mattered was the post-season and bringing the championship trophy to DC. A meme of a ticked-off fan, regardless of her relation to the rival team, would not distract me.

  “Pardon me for pointing out the obvious, but I don’t think she likes you.”

  He was right. Except Reese Parker didn’t know me. But after tomorrow, I’d make sure that wasn’t the case.

  Chapter 3

  Reese

  Each time I closed my eyes, Trent Archer’s smug face would pop up and invade my thoughts. I needed to stop letting him get under my skin. Especially since he had no clue who I was. Still, I couldn’t purge him from my mind. The arrogance of that wink infuriated me. And if I were being a bit honest, it was sexy as hell. Too bad I despised him.

  After the game, I went home and warmed up last night’s Thai takeout, plopped down on my sofa, and flicked on the television to watch the late game. Despite being out of the postseason, I wanted to see who would be taking on the Rockets. Except it wa
s halftime, and an image of me in the stands decked out in my favorite Thunder quarter-zip and cap appeared in a square next to the host’s head, then it switched to a side-by-side of me and Trent.

  We’re a meme?

  Then I looked at Trent’s face. Since I had left after saluting him, I never saw his reaction. A deep laugh rumbled out of me when I saw his shocked expression. Maybe I should be upset that my face was front and center, but seeing his wide eyes and gaped mouth made my earlier annoyance dissipate.

  Just as I slid some noodles into my mouth, my phone rang. Kenzie’s name illuminated my screen. Well, better get this over with. I set my bowl down, wiped my hands, and tapped the green icon connecting the call.

  “Hi, Kenz,” I perkily greeted, knowing she’d be upset with me.

  “Seriously, Reese? You flipped off Trent Archer?”

  “Yeah, well, he’s a jerk. He blew me a kiss and winked! What was I supposed to do? Wink back?”

  She sighed. Kenzie and I were closer than most sisters. Our mom passed away shortly after I was born and since our dad couldn’t take it, he left his two daughters. But not before demanding a financial payment from our grandfather since everything in our mother’s will went to Kenzie and me. Knowing what a sleaze-bag our father was, Granddad reluctantly paid him a generous sum, so he would stay out of our lives. Mission accomplished because the man was only after our mother’s money and never with her for love.

  Thankfully after that, our maternal grandparents took us in and raised us. Because of that, it strengthened our bond as sisters, yet we couldn’t be more different.

  “Well, our PR department is trying to get a handle on things. You can’t just go around and give the finger to people, no matter how obnoxious they are. Grandpa—”

  “Grandpa, what?” I asked, finally letting the pit in my stomach plummet. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him. It was bad enough our season ended at the hand of the Rockets. Rubbing salt into that wound, wasn’t my intention.

  “He told me to let it go. You have a right to express yourself.”

  I smiled, crisscrossed my legs, and relaxed into my sofa. “He’s right, you know.”

  “You’re just his favorite.” True. “Will you please do me a favor and try not to do anything else? We don’t need any bad press heading into the off-season.”

  “Of course. I’ll be on my best behavior.” If she were in front of me, rather than on the phone, I would have given her a mock salute.

  “Thank you.” Kenzie’s exhale sounded loud and clear. “Trent’s contract is up this season.”

  “Yes, I know that, but it’s not like he’s not going to sign with the Rockets. We need to move on from Archer. Davis from Rochester and Park from Boulder look fantastic. They’ll definitely go first or second round. Did you know Davis threw for a school high of almost four thousand passing yards this season… threw thirty touchdowns and rushed for six? He has over a seventy percent completion percentage. Not to mention, he’s only twenty-two. In addition to Davis and Park, there’s McCarthy from Omaha. He threw for over three thousand yards and has a completion percentage over sixty. Then there’s—”

  “I understand there are great players. What I don’t understand is why you prefer to work in a bakery. You’re born to work with us. No one knows stats like you do.”

  “Because cookies don’t piss me off. And I do work there when needed.”

  She let out a laugh. “Fine, and your statistical prowess is appreciated. Draft day is right around the corner.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ll be there like I am every year.”

  Kenzie knew I collaborated with our grandfather and executive team before the draft. Heck, she knew I worked behind the scenes all the time and not only around draft day. Just because I didn’t devote all of my time to being at the office, didn’t mean I was less involved. On some level, I was more involved than those who had a nameplate on their door.

  “Okay. I need to get going. Oh, and thank you for taking care of Bubba while we’re away. I’ll drop him off in the morning.”

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to spending time with my nephew.”

  She laughed. “Try to stay out of trouble. I love you, Reese.”

  “Love you too, Kenz.”

  The call ended; I tossed my phone onto the coffee table and resumed eating my dinner. Thoughts of Trent needed to be pushed to the back of my brain. We needed to focus on next season. There were a few other college prospects and thanks to an eight and ten season, we should be able to get a good drafting position. But despite the amazing collegiate numbers in this upcoming draft class, we needed experience. Tomorrow I’d call Granddad and discuss everything. For now, all I wanted to do was finish my dinner, go to bed, and think about anything but football… and a gorgeous quarterback.

  ***

  Thanks to my unwanted publicity, Sugarcoat This! was mobbed the following day. Alexa and her mother, Erica, had a difficult time keeping up. At one point, I tried to apologize, but Erica waved me off, reminding me that sales meant money. Thankfully, there were only a couple reporters who popped in to ask questions. Most respected my granddad enough not to bother me, but that didn’t mean they weren’t all itching for a story… and what better one than why America’s favorite quarterback received a rude hand gesture.

  All day a steady stream of customers filled the small store. It wasn’t until we finally had a lull, that I took a break. Alexa had taken hers earlier since she needed to run to the bank. My feet were killing me, my hair was falling out of my ponytail, and I was sure I looked ragged.

  “I’m going to head to the back and sit for a few minutes.” I moved from behind the counter, and the bell above the door chimed. It was as though I could sense him. Of course, Alexa and Erica’s collective gasp didn’t help matters. When I pivoted, my blue eyes locked onto Trent’s magnetic green ones. I didn’t even know if that was the correct way to describe them. They were lush and full with ambition… utterly breathtaking.

  What am I doing? The last thing I should be thinking about are his eyes. Despite how captivating they are.

  He strode in like he’d been to the bakery a million times before. Trent glanced at Alexa and her mother who were just staring at him. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Alexa’s face bloomed with a pink hue. Erica smiled and nudged her daughter, who choked out a hello before her mom disappeared through the kitchen door behind her. It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

  Breaking the lovefest going on, I headed toward him, and popped my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”

  With confident strides, Trent made his way to me, smiling and nodding at a couple customers in the process. His long legs encased in dark denim and his black shirt underneath a black leather biker jacket made him look like a movie star. He ran his hand through his hair, and his lips tipped up into a devilish smirk that made my insides flutter. Has to be nerves.

  “I’m here to see you, of course.”

  “Perfect timing. Reese was just going on her break,” Alexa offered, looking a bit star-struck. “Can I get you coffee or a cookie? I’m Alexa, by the way. The best friend.”

  He traded his smirk for a model-worthy smile, and I swore I saw the traitor behind the counter steady herself. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Trent, but you probably already know that.” Alexa nodded slowly. “And thank you, I’d love a coffee. One sugar and two creams, please. And why don’t you pick the cookie. Whatever your favorite is. Actually, box up a couple dozen. I’ll take them to the guys tomorrow.”

  In less than a minute, Alexa brought over his coffee and a plate with a blue-frosted sugar cookie on it and set them on a small round table. “Let’s sit,” Trent said to me, pulling out a chair.

  My so-called friend waved at me behind his back urging me to comply with his request. Not wanting to make a scene, I sat.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, first off, I’d like to introduce myself.”

  What game wa
s he playing? “I know who you are, and you clearly know who I am, so let’s cut to the chase.”

  “Okay. Well, Miss Parker… it is miss, right?” I nodded, he smirked, and I crossed my legs beneath the table. “It appears you have a poor opinion of me, and I’d like to rectify that. Especially since you don’t have a valid reason to. Well, except for the loss yesterday.”

  My eyes automatically narrowed. “Are you trying to win me over or something? If that’s the case, you’re failing miserably.”

  Trent took a sip of his coffee and licked his lips. “Sorry. Let’s start over.” He extended his hand. “I’m Trent Archer, and I’d like to be friends.”

  A snort-laugh flew out of my mouth. “No, but thank you.”

  “Your grandfather said you wouldn’t be so forgiving. Even he understands I was just doing my job.”

  “My granddad? You went to see my granddad? Why? When? Why?”

  Trent chuckled and took a bite of his cookie. I sat there, getting more annoyed by the second. “Wow, this is delicious,” he said through chews. After swallowing, he lifted the cookie. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” When I remained silent he smirked. “Here’s the deal, I have profound respect for Mr. Reese, and when I found out that you were his granddaughter, I knew I had to say something to him. The last thing I’d want is for him to think poorly of me. So, I went to his office to have a chat. Oh, your sister says hi.”

  All I could do was blink. Did I fall asleep on my break? Was I hallucinating? When I remained silent, he added, “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  Just as I was about to say no, my phone rang. Thank God, saved by the bell. When I saw it was my granddad, I let out a breath. “Excuse me,” I said before connecting the call. “Hi, Granddad.”

  “Hey, baby girl. Trent came to see me, and I have a feeling you’re going to be his next stop.”