Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(2)

And this was my last year to get there, to win it all, to seal my spot as a first-round draft pick into the NFL.

“It’s the first day of spring training,” Coach said. “And I don’t want to use this precious time babbling on about myself. We’ll get to know each other as the season progresses. For now, I want to introduce you to Coach Hoover,” he said, gesturing for the man who’d walked in next to him to come up. “Hoover is my right-hand man and will probably become your favorite person in the world because if anyone can talk me out of making a team run laps, it’s him.”

Coach Hoover smirked as Coach Lee clapped him on the back.

“And this,” he said, waving a hand behind him. “Is my daughter — Julep.”

A knot formed in my throat, too thick to swallow past as all eyes shot to the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl.

Hesitantly, she stepped up to his side, though she didn’t smile or show any ounce of emotion other than a slight raise of two fingers from where she’d folded her arms across her chest.

“Julep is rounding out her junior year, and for some reason, loves me enough to transfer from our last university and finish out her degree here. She’s majoring in sports medicine, and she’ll be interning under the training staff on the team.”

My heart rate spiked at the thought of her being around all the time, at the mere inference that she might be the one to stretch or massage me before a game.

Coach paused, something more severe washing over his expression as his jaw hardened, eyes narrowing.

“And let me be extremely clear,” he said, scanning the room. “If any of you even so much as thinks about flirting with Julep, let alone having the balls to ask her on a date, you will have me to answer to. She’s not here for you to ogle over. She’s here to work — just like you. I imagine since you have Riley Novo as a teammate, I don’t need to lecture any further than this about respecting females in the athletic industry.”

Riley smiled a little at that, obviously impressed, and Julep rolled her eyes like she hated that this was a conversation that even needed to happen at all.

All the while, I was burning from the inside out.

Because all my life, football had been my one and only focus. It was all I cared about. It was my reason for waking up in the morning, and the only thought that consumed me when I laid my head down at night. It was my lifeline, my muse, the center of my attention.

But in one fatal moment, that focus shifted.

Julep Lee was the coach’s daughter. She was completely off limits.

And yet, I knew right then and there that I had to have her.

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Five months later...

Julep



“I am not helping you put a stripper pole in the middle of your living room.”

My dad folded his arms sternly across his chest, caterpillar eyebrows furrowed the way they always were when he was yelling at one of his players.

“Help me or don’t help me, it’s going up,” I told him, fitting the chrome extension to the pole before tightening the screws.

“There’s a giant window that faces the street.”

I just shrugged, indifferent. “Then I guess the neighbors will get a free show.”

Dad scowled more, and I wish I still had the human emotion of joy left inside me so I could smile and put him at ease. Instead, I put the pole aside long enough to climb to my feet and wrap him in a hug — massive arms across his chest and all.

“I’ll get curtains, okay?”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“Remember why I love it,” I told him — begged him.

The inhale he dragged through his nose was enough to cause a draft in the room, but he softened with the exhale, uncrossing his arms and hugging me in return. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before pulling back.

“I know,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I want to see it.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded. Then, I hung my hands on my hips, chewing the inside of my cheek. “Thank you, Dad. For letting me do this.”

He nodded, then made his way to the kitchen to continue unpacking a box that did not include a chrome apparatus I would be clinging to while half naked.

I decided to wait to put the pole up until later, settling on a box labeled bedroom, instead. It was a miracle my father was trusting me enough to live on my own — well, with a roommate, but without him. It was the first time in my new adult life that he’d granted the permission to do so, and I had a feeling it was because he felt guilty moving me in the middle of my junior year of college last spring when he took the job as head coach of the North Boston University football team.

Not that I cared.

It wasn’t like I left a group of friends behind — like I had any friends at all. I’d given up on trying to establish anything close to a relationship, friendly or otherwise, since the night I lost my sister.

As if the universe heard my thoughts, I opened the box on the floor to find a picture of Abby looking back at me.

What was left of my heart stuttered at the sight, at the neon blue eyes, the wide smile, the way she hugged my waist like I was her best friend while I stood there looking annoyed with life — like always.

But I didn’t cry, didn’t pick up the picture and run a hand over the glass, didn’t do anything other than set it aside and continue unpacking the personal items beneath it.