Saving it for me. How much does this man know about me?
I glance over at Milo before I slip it over my sundress. I pull my hair to the side, smoothing the frizz from playing a one-on-one game with Milo where he let me win but not before softly tackling me to the ground a few times and placing quick, distracting kisses against my skin each time he did.
“Look at me back in your jersey, Hot Shot.” I wink before I do a little spin and shimmy when my back with his name on it is facing him.
Milo grins. “Looks better on you than me, like always.”
“Milo freakin’ Carter,” a voice shouts from behind us.
I turn and I recognize this face. I’ve seen it on television, in interviews. Chiseled jaw, dark eyes, and jet-black hair.
“Sean,” Milo greets him, extending a hand.
Sean Gregory. Quarterback. Back when Milo played and possibly now, too. I’m not sure since I quit watching football the day Milo was injured.
Sean gives a judgmental look at Milo’s hand but grabs it before he pulls Milo into a hug.
Either this team really likes to hug, or they’ve got a bond with Milo that I don’t yet understand.
When he releases him, Sean says, “Imagine my disappointment when I had to hear about you being back here from this old guy.” His head tilts toward Caleb.
Caleb shakes his head, more amused than annoyed by the ageism.
“Sorry. Sadie and I hadn’t exactly planned to be here,” Milo says as he looks over at me. “Sean, this is Sadie Summers.”
Sean’s grin splits his face. “TheSadie Summers?”
I watch Milo as Sean says the words. Milo tugs at the collar on his shirt.
“I don’t think he knows any other one.” I take a step forward with my hand extended. “Sean Gregory?”
“That’s me,” he says as he shakes my hand heartily.
“Your running game is weak.” I say the words my dad always said when we watched the Giants play.
He chuckles. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” I confirm. “The stats don’t lie.”
Sean steps back, assessing me. “All right, so what do Milo’s stats say about him?”
I know exactly what Milo’s stats say about him. My dadboasted about Milo like he was a son to everyone in Dusty Hollow, and Dusty Hollow always agreed.
“One of the best running backs the Giants ever had,” I answer confidently before I turn my gaze toward Milo. “Kid knew his game and had the heart to play it.”
I hear my dad in the words, and I wonder if Milo can too. His mouth lifts in a small smile, but his eyes seem to dull slightly.
“Dang,” Sean mutters. “Can’t disagree with you there. Game hasn’t been the same without him.”
I shrug as I turn back to Sean. “Some things are simple to see.”
“So, Milo.” Sean turns his attention to him. “You comin’ back to coach?”
Milo shakes his head. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“It should be why you’re here,” Sean argues. “You’ve got a gift, man. One we could really benefit from.”
“I took a teaching and coaching job back home. I’m happy with where I’m at,” he answers quickly.
