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Not only haven’t I had time to worry about what people think, but Quinn makes absolutely sure I don’t care either by constantly reminding me how hard I worked for this and how much I deserve to have it all, just like he does. I have my dream man, and I have my dream job, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world.
“I love you. I can’t wait to see you kick ass out there tonight,” Quinn says, pushing away all my nerves.
The girls and I have spent the last six weeks working our asses off getting everything ready for today—one last showcase of all the dances they’ve performed over the last season, and two new ones I had them learn—until a few say goodbye and we get started with try-outs for next season in another month. Right after Palmer and Birdie’s wedding, Tess and Bodhi’s baby shower, and right when Quinn needs to leave for summer training camp for six weeks. It will be the perfect distraction to stop me from missing him… and a chance to perfect my phone sex skills.
“I can’t believe you wore this shirt tonight. To your place of employment.” I shake my head at Quinn with a smile, my fingers tracing over the letters on his T-shirt Shepherd made for him as we continue to slow dance.
“It’s your place of employment now too. And a shirt that says Dibs on the Coach is just me marking my territory, so no one gets any funny ideas while you’re out there kicking ass on the sidelines, looking hot as hell in that dress.”
“Don’t forget, you have a meeting with your defensive coordinators tomorrow at nine, and then a call with your agent at eleven thirty,” I remind him.
After a lot of reassurances from Quinn that everything would be okay after he fired Tyler—and clearly with the position Tyler was in now, he was in no way equipped to make good on his threat to “end” Quinn—Shepherd introduced him to his own agent. The two men hit it off immediately, and Quinn signed with him soon after. Quinn also took some time to really explain the business side of his job to me and that all of the endorsement deals he had been cancelling to spend time with me really were not important things for his career, nor things he wanted nor needed to do. Quinn only endorses products he’s used and can 100 percent back. The things Tyler was booking for him were products and companies he had never even heard of or gave a shit about. He already has several very good endorsement deals, which include one of the top athletic clothing designers and one of the top sports drink manufacturers. Quinn is paid extremely well for everything he does; he doesn’t need the money from those other endorsement deals, and Tyler really was just being greedy, only thinking about himself and how much money Quinn could make him.
“Excuse me, Ms. Flanagan, but is this creepy gentleman bothering you?”
Quinn sighs under his breath, and I laugh as we pull apart.
“Very funny, Stanley,” Quinn grumbles with a smile on his face, shaking his head at one of the security guards for the stadium, who stands in the doorway with his own amused smile on his face.
“Sorry to bother you. I know you said you wanted some privacy until showtime,” Stanley explains, making me blush thinking about what Quinn just did to me, hoping Stanley doesn’t know that’s why Quinn told him to keep everyone out for a little bit. “It’s almost showtime, Coach, but there are a few very loud, very annoying people who’d like to say hi first.”
I have just enough time to internally squeal when Stanley calls me Coach until all hell breaks loose in the locker room.
“Did you see everyone looking at us walking into the tunnel with our VIP badges, like we’re the coolest people ever? I never feel like this when I win a golf tournament.”
“Because golf sucks, and you only win when I call you a dillsack. Oooh, a kitchen with snacks! Hands off the Cheetos; they’re mine!”
“Fucking finally! I almost lit the trash in that garbage can right outside the door on fire. Where’s the bathroom? I have to pee again.”
“I thought the cheerleading uniforms would be more sparkly. I should give them my card.”
“It smells like football cum in here.”
“What the hell does that even smell like?”
“A big ego and the burning stench of a melted brain from too many concussions.”
Quinn looks at me with pleading eyes, and I quickly bring my fingers up to my mouth and blow out an ear-piercing whistle.
“So fucking hot,” he mutters when all my friends finally shut up, and I answer all of them at once.
“Palmer, you’re definitely cool now, because you’re friends with the coach. Bodhi, you can have one bag of Cheetos but no chocolate. Tess, the bathroom is the door right next to the kitchen. Shepherd, the cheerleading uniforms are sparkly enough, but we can chat about the warm-up tracksuits. And Birdie, that’s not football cum you’re sensing; it’s cheerleading. Which smells like fun and shiny sparkles.”
