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But he hadn’t called her back yesterday, and maybe that hurt a little.
Barely friends.
Maybe she should wake up and face the truth. Just because they’d spent a couple days on a sailboat and one harrowing night together didn’t make them secret pals, or anything else.
Just two people caught up in circumstances beyond their control.
But this job, this position, she knew how to do. “Bly is a player. And I mean that in every sense of the word. He has plenty of women to hang out with.”
Zach glanced at her. “Bly? I see him alone in the pub after games, without the cheerleader accoutrement.”
“You keep track of Bly’s dating habits?”
He lifted his hands. “No. I was just saying that yeah, he drives a nice car, but you don’t see him in the news like you do some of the other American players. That’s why your Instagram picture with him was so viral.”
“It wasviral?”
Oh brother. Because that’s just what Darren Pike and his ilk would like—for her name to be circling scandal again. “It was a moment in a restaurant where we happened to be sitting together. Never going to happen again.”
“Calm down, Marsh. I believe you.”
Her back teeth tightened.
A whistle blew down the field, and the huddle of Berlin Thunder players broke. They jogged down the field, others filling the sidelines.
“Ready for this?” Zach held out his fist.
She met it, then jogged into place in the offensive backfield. Ref Yannick placed the ball, and she counted the players, then kept her eyes on the lineman, looking for holding or illegal blocks.
The quarterback snapped the ball, dropped back. She saw him out of her periphery, her gaze on the linemen, watching the tackle, and the guard, the center—
“Marsh!”
She turned a second before the running back charged into her, having received the handoff. He jerked, spun, and still managed to clip her.
The blow shucked out her breath, threw her to the ground. She landed on her hip with an oof.
Yannick blew the whistle.
“Stay out of ze way!” This from the running back, but as he helped pull her up, he wore more concern than anger on his face.
Still, he was right. She brushed the grass off her pants, grabbed her hat, and tried to ignore the throb in her hip.
“Marsh!” Yannick came over. “You’re lucky they’re not practicing with pads. He could have been going full speed—”
“I know. I know. I got this.”
“You gotta keep your eye on the lineman while still seeing the play develop in the backfield. Invisible but omnipresent, right?”
“Right, boss.”
“I can move Zach to this position—”
“I got this!” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. But really. I’ll be fine. That’s why we have practice, right?”
Yannick studied her for a moment, his blue eyes pensive. Reminded her a little of Aragorn, from theLord of the Ringsseries, except with shorter hair. Deep angles to his face, his countenance at once sweeping and authoritative. “Okay then.”
He blew the whistle, and the players lined back up.
