The Game (That Girl, #2)(20)

“Yeah, here you go.” Jazzy pushes a plate of food across the counter. I follow her lead and take a seat at the bar.

“Thank you.”

Lynlee pulls up the seat next to mine and asks for a turkey and Swiss sandwich. Jazzy turns to make it without a second thought. I can read the gratefulness all over her face; she’s happy the attention has been taken away from us being busted earlier. I hear Lynlee trying to talk to me, but my eyes and ears can only focus on Jazzy. I’ve only been in love once, and that was with Rebecca. She was the polar opposite of Jazzy. She was my high school sweetheart, with brown, mousy hair and plain makeup, but she was my one love that could always rival football, and she always stood by my side—until she was gone.

Jazzy, on the other hand, is simply gorgeous, radiating light and sunshine wherever she goes, even with her foul mouth and foul temper. Platinum blonde hair, creamy skin, and a stunning smile…when she smiles, that is. She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever met. And trust me when I say I’ve met my fair share. Since entering the pros four years ago, I’ve had droves and droves of them flocking my driveway. Different hair colors, natural beauties, and right down to full plastic type Barbie dolls.

I’ve had blondes with big tits before. They wore lots of makeup, perfume, and all designer shit. Jazzy has none of that. She is naturally gorgeous, and my eyes can’t seem to get enough.

“Levi, are you even listening to me?”

“What was that, Lynlee?”

“I said have you talked to Lincoln lately?”

“No, why?” I ask.

“You know his first big game is coming. I mean, it’s regular season, and he’s starting. Pros and everything. Guess your dad is going to make it.”

“That’s cool,” I reply while picking at my sandwich.

Jazzy jumps up on the island across from the bar, folding her legs, and joins in our conversation. She’d drive my mother mad with her eating habits and mannerisms. She has the bag of cheese Doritos on one side of her while her sandwich rests on top of her knee.

“Shit, I forgot my drink,” she announces after she’s all settled in. And I’m on my feet before I know it. The pinching sensation running down my right side doesn’t bother me as much as before.

“Milk, water, soda, or tea?”

Jazzy has half her sandwich hanging out of her mouth as I ask the question. Her shy blush when she realizes what I’m doing is priceless. I’ve never seen the shy side of her.

“A pop,” she finally responds.

“I’ve never understood why you people call it pop. It’s soda, and you drink way too much of it, girl.”

I snag her a diet Mt. Dew from the fridge and set it next to her knee by the bag of chips. If only I were healthy enough to jump up and sit next to her, I could really flip her some good shit.

“Hey, you’re the one who packed it this morning in the cooler.”

Walking back around the end of the bar to my seat, I let her know I really do listen, and pay attention to my surroundings.

“Well, considering you’ve basically had a diet soda IV attached to you since I got here, I figured you’d like some when we went fishing.”

“Levi Wilks, you’re going to make someone a fine piece of ass one day.”

The ringing of the doorbell follows Jazzy’s words. Let the torture begin. My first physical therapy session is sure to be a reality check of how much work I have to put in before getting back out on the field. Last year, I led Dallas to our third championship, and this year we recruited younger and even faster receivers. Our potential has never looked so bright. Well, that’s until I was taken out.

Coach Johnson, who is a father figure to me, fully understood when I told him I wanted to come home to Colorado to recover. It’s just way too much torture to sit on the sidelines and watch a rookie back-up QB lead my boys.

Time to get back in shape and start working out. Dr. Valentine is sure to send the best in Colorado, and I know Coach Johnson made damn sure to double check on his choice.

“I’ll grab it, considering it’s for me.”

Making my way slowly to the front door, I hear Lynlee say, “You are crushing on him. My god, Jazzy Jou Jou.”

I imagine her blushing bright red and chuckle at the thought. Maybe she is starting to warm up to me. Hell, it will make for a fun f*cking few months. I’ve only been able to think about being alone with her again. Next time I’ll make sure we are not disrupted by anyone.

The physical therapist is beyond f*cking antsy now, drilling the doorbell in succession. Fuck, I’ve got to pick up my speed. Opening the door, I have to blink twice, and then four times. It can’t be her. Why in the hell would she be standing on my doorstep? No way.

“Hi, Levi,” she squeaks, unsure of herself.

My eyes focus in one the lanyard around her neck. Sure as shit, her name badge reads “Rebecca Smith.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m your PT.”

“I don’t f*cking think so, Rebecca.”

“Levi, I was sent here to do a job, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“No, actually you can get the f*ck out now.”

I hear Jazzy’s voice. “What’s going on, Levi?”

“So, what’s the problem, Levi? You’ve got one of your fake, big-tittied sluts here. Everything should be fine.” Rebecca’s hands are perched on her hips with full on attitude.