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"You a surfer?"
"No," she laughed. "I can barely swim, much less balance on a board while a wave tries to kill me."
Pulling my sunglasses off my eyes and pushing them to my head, I started to try convincing her I could teach her, but her gasp made me freeze.
"Tripp Maddux?"
Dammit, I thought she knew who I was already, or didn't care. She had plenty of time to put two and two together, but since I rarely wore my earrings during a game and kept my hair pulled back with a band, maybe I was harder to recognize than I thought.
"Yeah." My response was hesitant, and I worried that whatever I was tempted to do to get her into my bed was about to be over. It should be over, Tripp. Don't get distracted.
She laughed at me, or herself. I wasn't sure which, but it eased the doubt in my chest. "What's so funny?"
"I saw you a few nights ago on TV. When you first spoke, I knew your voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it until I saw your eyes."
"Is this a good thing, or a bad thing?"
"Well, I just said you may be gay. For me, it's probably a bad thing."
"Maybe I am," I winked. "It's okay to make that assumption."
"You're probably not, though." Her head was shaking, and if she got any redder, I would have to call for medical help to cool her down.
"How do you know?"
"I don't know," she swallowed hard. "But one of my co-workers has been researching everything about the Miami Inferno. I work for IMG."
"Well, now things are a little unfair. You know a lot about me, and all I know about you is that you work for IMG."
Her nose scrunched up playfully, and she leaned up from her lounger. "What do you want to know?"
"The first thing I want to know is if I can sit down." I nodded toward the space on the matching lounger beside her, hoping she humored my carnal heart.
Her shrug wasn't a no, so I took the space and laid back next to her. My board was still on my chair, but the waiter grabbed my drink and brought it to me, seeing that I had changed spots. Her eyes and smile followed me as I brought the drink to my lips and sipped through the bright, curly, pink straw.
"So tell me," I asked, setting my drink down on the table. "What's your name?"
"Not sure I should tell you. What if I end up being that girl that called you gay? Among the sports community, my career would be over."
"Only if it starts a scandal. And I'm not sure my sexual preference is a good cause for a scandal. It's not like I find it offensive."
"Sometimes, any misconception can be offensive. I shouldn't have made any assumptions, considering who you are."
"That's only human nature," I laughed, trying to convince her it didn't matter what she thought. In a way, I could see how wrong assumptions, no matter what they were, could upset her career, but it wasn't like she had filed paperwork and called for a media day. "I've made a few assumptions about you. I'm curious if I'm right."
"What kind of assumptions?"
"Like, I'm assuming you get excited about food. You were dancing every time you took a bite."
"That's about as obvious as me assuming you're not a vegetarian."
"Fair enough."
She smiled and seemed to relax again finally. "What else?"
"I'm assuming you're single."
Biting her lip, she shook her head back and forth and then up and down, making her answer completely unclear. "Something like that."
