Fourth Down (Portland Pioneers 1)

“So, this is about PR?”

“No, it’s about showing you there is more to the world than football. Now, come sit.” Autumn pats the black chair and swivels it around so the seat is facing me. I look from it to her and see she’s serious about me doing this. Fuck. Autumn pats the chair again, and I groan. Each step I take is staggered. I’m dragging my feet like a three-year-old who has been told to come to the dinner table and eat broccoli. I really want to ask her if I have to do this, but I’m afraid of the answer. She bought me for the day and technically can tell me to do whatever she wants me to do. And I guess this is better than standing on the street corner dressed as a chicken. Although, no one would really know it was me. Nope, I have a feeling Autumn would alert the news or something. In hindsight, this will be the lesser of any other evil she could come up with.

I finally sit, and my body sags. Autumn spins me toward the mirror, and I lean forward. “Are those bags under my eyes?” The large light bulbs surrounding her mirror illuminate my face. I look horrendous like I haven’t slept in years. I don’t remember looking this bad when I left the house, but hell, maybe I did.

“Yes,” she says. “Not getting much sleep, huh?” Autumn is at her counter, going through her bags and drawers of what I’m guessing is make-up.

“Understatement. Have you ever had a toddler’s feet in your face while trying to sleep?”

Autumn laughs and comes toward me with a brush and some brown stuff. “Can’t say that I have. I’m sure that makes for a crowded bed at night.”

“It shouldn’t since Roxy is so tiny.”

Autumn continues to brush cream or something all over my face. I can’t really say if I like this or not. It’s definitely different, and I’m happy I don’t have to do this for any of my interviews after the game. What a nightmare.

“What does your wife do for work?” she asks.

I sigh and close my eyes when her fingers are nearby. “My soon-to-be ex-wife is trying to make it as an actress in Los Angeles.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? The fact that she’s my ex or an actress?”

Autumn pauses and then goes back to her counter. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not. It’s somewhat public knowledge, especially if you watch the gossip shows. She has a boyfriend. She wants a different life.”

“For that, I’m truly sorry.”

“Me too. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you like your job?”

“I love my job,” she says without hesitation. “There’s a joke that goes around about how being a meteorologist is the only job where you can be wrong and not get fired.”

My eyebrows raise. “That’s a good point.”

Autumn laughs lightly, and I find that it’s a sound I’d like to hear again. “Do you like your job?” she counters.

I shrug, and she steps back. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t put my body through it, but sometimes I wish I had that nine-to-five.”

“What does Roxy think about her dad?”

“Roxy goes to the games for the hotdogs and cotton candy. My son, Reggie, he plays as well, but he’s just in Pee Wee.”

“You have a son?”

I nod and close my eyes again while her brush moves gently over my skin. When the sensation stops, I open them and find Autumn staring at me. “He’s eight,” I tell her. “Is that a problem?”

“Why would it be a problem?”

“Dunno, didn’t know how you felt about going on a date with a single dad?”

Autumn chuckles and returns to her counter. “I don’t date men who tend to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

She scoffs. “You’ve treated me poorly since the day I met you.”

“True, but I have excuses. Would you like to hear them?”

Autumn turns and points to the couch. “Your face is camera-ready, but we have a bit before you have to be out there. We can sit over there.” She moves to the sofa, stops at the small refrigerator, pulls out two bottles of water, and hands one to me. We both sit, but Autumn angles toward me, waiting for me to give her every excuse I’ve come up with as to why I’ve been such a jerk.

“Okay, so the first night I met you, I had just come back from L.A. where I had gone to see my ex. The meeting didn’t go well, coupled with some hard liquor and the fact that you’re unbelievably gorgeous, I didn’t know how to react. I heard you talking to Peyton and some other media people and just got it into my head that you were using her to get ahead in your career. There was another time, where I ended up at the bar, and the guys in there were catcalling you. I was pissed, and I didn’t know why.