Page 22 of Hard to Score

“First off, the best way to scare off a man is to take him to a wedding, and second, I’m perfectly fine attending it on my own. I may love being in love, but I do not need a man to go with me. I’m perfectly comfortable with flying solo.”

“I think you should bring him. Find out what his true character is.”

“I’m serious, Dekk. The last thing I need right now is a man.”

“You do need one. You—”

“Oh my God, you’re infuriating. I don’t need one—”

“Justin Hobbs,” she says, bringing the conversation full circle to what she came into my office for in the first place. “He’s the man you need.” She smiles and bats her lashes. “Correction, he’s the man we at KSM need you to need.”

“He’s an arrogant ass.” I snort but welcome the change of topic.

“You knew that going in to recruit him.” She chuckles. “Besides, isn’t that the norm these days? If you’re a hell of a player then you have to be a dick? Arrogant or not, keep the eye on him as the prize.”

“Jesus. Now you’re starting to sound like you love Justin as much as Justin loves Justin.” I roll my eyes.

“That bad?”

“He pulled the old, oops, I dropped my towel trick.”

“Of course, he did,” she says with a shake of her head.

Being women in a male-dominated industry, all four of us have been subjected to the towel drop. To an athlete’s need to put us in our place or sexualize our interaction in one way or another.

While we may be used to it, it’s in no way acceptable.

“Was he at least worth the towel drop?” she asks.

“Dekker.” I spit her name out.

“C’mon, you know you noticed.” She laughs.

I laugh. She’s right. I did notice. “Pretty average.”

“Maybe he’s a grower and not a shower.” She rises from her seat. “Let me know if you need any help with him. He may be average and arrogant, but I hear he’s a difficult one.”

“Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

CHAPTER TEN

DREW

“GREAT PRACTICE TODAY, BOWMAN.” I glance over to Coach and nod.

“Thanks,” I say the word, but know it doesn’t matter how great my practice is because I won’t touch the field in the game this weekend.

I’ll get suited up. I’ll warm up. And I’ll sit and watch the game from beneath a set of football pads on the sidelines without ever getting to step in between them.

But there’s been something about Brexton’s words from the other night that have gotten stuck in my craw. Honest comments about the amount of talent I have that’s being wasted.

Comments I’d like to take at face value and not read into . . . but struggle doing.

I know I’m good.

I know I have the work ethic and the drive.

I know I’m damn talented.