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“Thanks.” At the time, it was my crowning achievement, but there was more going on now. I had stats to back up my reputation, and I needed even more to get that bonus.
“So why are you holding back now? Seems like your kind of scene.”
I leaned closer to him. “I have a season policy. Can we leave it at that?”
“Ahh, one of those fuckers.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.
“You think you can only have fun in the off-season. I know the type. I just didn’t realize you were one of them.”
“I still have fun. I just don’t get involved with women. The game is more important.”
Wes stared at me. “No football player is that good. You start blocking out what’s around you, and you lose the game. You can’t act like there aren’t women on this earth for six months. Too much focus is bullshit, Sam. This isn’t baseball. Let those guys have their weird superstitions. Football players don’t do those damn things.”
“So you think getting shit-faced the night before a game and screwing some random girl is going to help us win tomorrow?”
He stood from the table. “Take my advice however you want. But I’ve been in the game long enough to know that extreme anything is never good.” He pressed his heavy hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Technically, the season doesn’t start until tomorrow, so you’re not breaking any rules tonight.” He slapped me once again and walked away.
I had to laugh. If anyone thought Wes Blakefield was the team leader who would mentor a rookie into taking the path of righteousness, they didn’t know the man. I’d probably never get that type of advice again in my career.
Most people would agree with me. Coaches would. Trainers would. But not Wes. He probably thought less of me now that I revealed why I was staying away from the women.
The singer started up again, and I looked around to see if anyone would notice if I slipped out. The guys were too busy talking to the girls. I could walk out now and nobody would give a shit.
I stood to stretch my legs. The door was on the other side of the bar. A red neon sign hung over the entrance that read Warriors. It was another reminder that I needed to be reading our playbook, not taking shots and buying pretty girls drinks. I could do that in February.
Our hotel was only a few blocks from the bar. I’d walk back, clear my head, then hit the book again. The way the guys were drinking I might be the only one who could hold my head up tomorrow.
I looked over my shoulder. Stubbs had his arm around one of the girl’s waists. Shit. He had two girlfriends back home, but that didn’t stop him. I shook my head and took a step toward the door. I wasn’t paying attention to what or who was in front of me.
“Ow!”
“Oh shit.” I looked down. I grabbed her arm before she hit the floor. “Sorry.”
I had plowed her over with one step.
“Watch where you’re going, maybe?” Her voice told me everything I needed to know about her before I even saw her face. She was strong-willed, opinionated, and not afraid to stand up for herself.
I helped her to balance on both feet. She smoothed the strands of hair that had fallen over her cheeks and tilted her chin. Her eyes lifted to mine and I swallowed hard.
Fuck. She was gorgeous. And not like the other girls. Every part of her was natural and flawless. I stared at her high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and long eyelashes. There was grace in her
movements. Even her scowl.
She brushed her blond hair from her face. The rest was pulled back high off her neck.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking.” But I was now. I was checking out every inch of her. She wasn’t dressed like the others. It looked like she had run here from a yoga class.
She shrugged off my apology. “Sorry, I was a little rude. It’s fine.”
“Let me buy you a drink.” It popped out of my mouth before I could think about what I was saying.
She looked at me quizzically. “I’m fine, really. No damage done.”
“But I want to apologize. What do you like? It’s on me.”
She pinched her lips together and I noticed how lush and full they were. God, she was perfect.
