Fumbled (Playbook #2)(50)

“And I’m bored.” Charli shrugs, her gleaming chestnut hair not moving out of place. “I binged all the good shows the first couple of days they were gone. Now all I have to do is study and who wants to do that?”

Next to Charli, Vonnie purses her lips and rolls her neck, a look I’m already well acquainted with. “You do,” she says, attitude kicked up about a hundred levels.

Charli scrunches her nose and shrugs her shoulders. “But do I really?”

“Yes,” Vonnie says. “You do. You’ve worked your ass off for this, and you do not want to be known as ‘Shawn’s wife’ for the rest of your life. You’re going to want him to be ‘Charli’s husband’ at some point.” Vonnie casts a quick glance over her shoulder toward where our boys can be seen running and falling all over the place. “Trust and believe. This ‘football wife’ shit gets old real quick. I can’t wait to go back to work.”

I nod my head in agreement even though I have never been a football wife nor have I graduated from college, but Vonnie does put forth a convincing argument. She’s probably an amazing lawyer.

“Uggghhhh,” Charli groans, and aims her sunglass-covered eyes at the field, where the team is taking part in some delicious stretching. “You’re right,” she agrees, though begrudgingly.

“I know,” Vonnie says before her eyes follow Charli’s to the field. “Good God Almighty, thank you, Jesus.” She lifts her hands to the heavens in praise. “That man of yours is so damn fine.”

I look for Charli’s husband, but I can’t see the numbers since they’re all bent over, touching their toes. “Where’s Shawn?” I ask, not wanting to miss this show.

“Not Shawn,” they tell me in unison.

“She’s talking to you,” Charli says, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Not that Shawn’s not fine too, but that damn TK? Lord. I don’t know what it is about him.”

“You don’t need to explain.” Charli reaches into her purse and pulls out a pack of Red Vines without ever looking away from the field. “Shawn has caught me staring at TK more than once.”

“You guys are crazy.” I laugh and take a Red Vine when Charli puts the box in front of me. “How can you even tell which one he is?”

“Don’t play with me.” Vonnie pulls her sunglasses low on her nose, her narrowed eyes and a perfectly arched brow directed my way. “You can’t tell me you don’t know which one of them is TK.”

She’s right.

I spotted TK as soon as I stepped on the concrete steps and haven’t lost sight of him since.

“Well, yeah, but—” I start, but I’m cut off before I get a real word out.

“Exactly. Between his hair falling from his helmet and his ass filling out those pants better than anyone else in the league, he’s impossible to miss.” She pushes her sunglasses back into place. “Much to the dismay and ego bruising of everyone else on the team.”

“Maxwell looks pretty good too,” Charli pipes in.

“You’re right.” Vonnie points to Maxwell when I strain my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of him with his hands flat on the ground in front of him. “Ebony and ivory. Fine and fine. Can I get an amen?”

“Amen,” Charli calls, still focused on the field.

I finally spot Maxwell, who is only two rows over from TK, and enjoy the show.

Then I mentally reprimand myself for sitting here, snacking, talking with friends, and openly ogling these men the same way the men at the club judged me.

And dammit if I don’t go right back to looking.



* * *



? ? ?

IT’S CRAZY HOW after just one practice, a scene so foreign yesterday feels familiar and welcoming today.

I walk out to the field with Vonnie and Charli. Vonnie forbade Charli from leaving us this time and Charli didn’t fight too hard. We’re laughing at a story Vonnie’s telling us about Jagger when I glance over her shoulder and look directly into a phone as the flash goes off in our direction. The photographer is a woman probably around my age, with blond highlights scattered through her brown hair and a Mustangs jersey I’m positive she found in the children’s department stretching past its limit across her very ample chest. She’s with a group of five other women, all in similar outfits, all with phones focused on the huddles of women waiting for their players to come say hi.

“What’s wrong?” Vonnie asks when my laughter dies. She follows my gaze to the sideline and rolls her eyes so hard, I worry they won’t come back down. “Ignore the groupie brigade.” She brushes them off with a flick of her wrist.

“Somebody posted pictures of me and TK kissing yesterday.” I avoid eye contact, feeling the familiar heat creep up my cheeks.

“Which website?” Vonnie asks.

My eyes go wide and fly to meet hers. “Which website?” I repeat, horrified at the notion of there being multiple forums discussing my love life. “You mean there’s more than one?”

At this, Vonnie and Charli look at each other for a split second before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

“Yes,” Charli says, wiping under her eyes for falling tears. “There is more than one.”