Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
After the Rams go three and out, Cal is back on for one more series. The first down, Calvin hands off the ball to the running back and they squeak out three yards. On the next snap, they go into a spread formation.
Spread formation?
That puts Cal open to a nasty pass rush. I don’t like the call, but it’s preseason. No one is going to go full out. I’m not worried, I tell myself…until the center snaps the ball.
The number one pick for the Rams, a rookie linebacker, comes flying off the edge and hits Cal in the back just as he’s releasing the ball. I gasp, my hands go flying to my mouth, the stadium goes as quiet as church while Cal writhes on the ground clutching his lower back. Two of his offensive linemen start pushing and shoving players of the opposing team. A fight almost breaks out.
I look around frantically, and the dark sympathetic eyes of a very pretty black woman holding a baby tangle with mine. “He’ll be okay, honey,” she murmurs. Her quiet assurance does nothing to dispel my anxiety because Cal is still down, a number of players kneeling and praying now.
Fuuuck!
I glance at Sam, then Ethan. Both standing, their focus is on the field. The team staff is crowded around Cal, who hasn’t moved. If the flat bed comes out, I will lose my frigging mind.
Just then, the team trainers help Calvin to his feet and the crowd goes wild. He’s walking gingerly, his face twisted in pain as they escort him off the field. Toes tapping, thumb drumming on my thigh, I manage to sit there for a full ten minutes before I pop up on my feet. On the clubhouse screen they show Cal getting escorted to the locker room.
“Let’s go, counselor. You have to get me access to see him.”
Ethan’s wearing a smug smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”
“He’s my employer. I’m concerned as any human being with half a heart would be.”
“Uh huh.”
“Fine. He’s a friend. Okay? Satisfied? He’s my employer and my friend. It would make me inhuman if I wasn’t concerned.”
“Mmmm.”
“I just want to make sure he’s not hemorrhaging to death,” I say as my feet carry me quickly toward the exit.
“Right.”
The three of us make our way out of the clubhouse, a couple of the wives lending words of encouragement. If I wasn’t downright sick over the state of Calvin’s health, I’d be celebrating right now.
We reach the locker room door. “Give me a minute to see if your employer and friend is done getting treatment.” Three minutes later he comes out and gives me the nod to enter while he plants himself on the bench next to Sam.
Inside, the object of my concern is sitting in a chair with a grimace that tells me he’s in intense pain. My heart lurches and my hands itch to check every square inch of his body to make sure nothing is falling out. Which is why I clench them into tight fist as I close the distance between us. I give myself major props for not sprinting to his side, by the way.
His chest is bare and he has an icepack secured to his waist by an ace bandage, his football pants hanging open. I used to laugh at the paperback romance novels I would sneak a peek at while on line at the supermarket. Every time I read something like this, “His masculine beauty took my breath away.” I used to think…
A: what kind of a dumbass wrote this dreck.
And B: what kind of dumbass reads this drivel.
And yet, here I stand, making doe eyes at this man, and what am I thinking? His masculine beauty takes my breath away. That’s right. Who’s the dumbass now?
“I’m taking you home,” I say with more steely determination than I’m feeling. He stares back at me unblinking, a small smile tugging his lips up. Then he winces and I can feel his pain as acutely as if it were mine.
“Okay.”
That one word propels me into action. Gingerly, I help him into his dress shirt. I don’t fail to notice that his eyes are on me the entire time. Concern, however, far outweighs any embarrassment I may feel at being scrutinized so closely.
“Are you okay to walk? Did they give you painkillers? Are you sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital?”
His soft gaze takes in my worried face. His silence stops me cold. Something is happening between us. If I wasn’t entangled in an array of feelings so contradictory that I’m left paralyzed, I could probably work it out. As it stands though, I’m lost.
“Yes, yes, and yes,” he says with a smile in his eyes. “Sam?”
“Outside, waiting with Ethan.”