Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

“I’m sure you did,” I said, knowing it sounded stupid, considering I’d only met her an hour before. It was a platitude, but she smiled anyway. “Did you say Maggie’s your aunt?”

Shelby nodded. “Yeah, on my dad’s side.”

“You’re lucky. She’s great. I remember my first visit; she came right up to me and asked me who I was, where I came from. She was very welcoming.”

Shelby giggled.

“What?”

“She thinks you’re a spy working with the CIA.”

“She does?”

Shelby laughed harder and covered her mouth.

I laughed along with her, replaying that initial meeting with new eyes.

“I think it’s the boots,” Shelby said, her eyes bright with amusement. She waved her hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. For all I know, she’s just pulling my leg. She’s a character, that’s for sure. But that’s why we all love her.”

I smiled and set my coffee mug on top of the table. I didn’t want to finish it quite yet. Once the coffee was gone, there would be no reason to stay. And I very much wanted to stay and keep getting lost in the beautiful brown eyes looking back at me.

Shelby seemed to be on the same wavelength, her own mug barely touched. She raised it to her lips and took a sip. Her eyes closed, and I swore I heard her moan, setting every nerve in my body on red alert. “She might be a troublemaker, but she has impeccable taste in coffee.”

I tried to speak, but the breath from my lungs evaporated as her eyes opened and found their way back to mine.

4

Shelby

I sat across the table from one of the most devastatingly handsome men I’d ever met—in person or magazines—and he wanted to give me a ride home.

Whooda thunk?

“Did you always want to be a lawyer?” Ross asked, casually swirling the contents of his mug.

I took a sip from my own before answering, “Well, if you skip over the years where I thought being a princess or mermaid were viable options, then yes.”

Ross chuckled. “Naturally.”

“My dad used to tell me I should be a lawyer, mostly because I was always arguing my case about something or the other. I don’t know. I guess it kind of stuck with me.” I brushed my side-swept bangs out of my eyes. “So, I was on the debate club in junior high and high school and even competed in some speech contests. Total nerd.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all. It’s served me well. I got accepted to Yale and earned a lot of scholarships to make it all work out.”

“Wow! I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” I wrapped my hands around my mug, leeching the remaining warmth. “What about you? Did you always want to play football?”

Ross smiled, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes as he nodded. A faraway look I couldn’t quite place. “Yep. Started in the second grade.”

I flapped a hand at him but couldn’t pull back down the smile across my face. “Wow. That’s young. What’s it like in the NFL?”

Ross dragged in a heavy sigh. “It’s a lot of work. Practice. Working out. Staying sharp.”

A laugh slipped past my lips. “I can imagine. Sounds hard.”

“You’d be surprised. Some people think it’s one never-ending party or something.”

“Hmm.” I tilted my head, considering him for a moment. What was hiding behind those eyes? “All that matters is that it’s worth it. Right? I mean, law school is no joke, but I don’t regret all the long hours and nonexistent social life for the last seven years.”

“Seven years?” Ross repeated, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Four years for my bachelor's and three more for law. Most of my friends from high school and college are off living life. Up until July, I was constantly locked away in a quiet room at the library, cramming for the test like my life depended on it. Not a lot of fun. So, most people kind of moved on. I’m just now getting back to seeing everyone and going out for longer coffee dates, without watching the clock and counting down how much time I had until my next study session.”

“Wow.”

“Seems like you might be able to relate,” I said, dropping a pointed look at the binder he’d closed but still had shoved into the corner of the table.

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid. Our star quarterback went down the other day. Broke a rib and jacked up his ankle. We won the game and we’re going to the playoffs, but he’s out. His season’s over.”

“And let me guess, you’re his replacement?”

“Nope. The guy who was next in line fell down some stairs today and he’s out too.” He grimaced and wiggled his eyebrows, “I’m his replacement.”

I nodded. “Ah.”

The bell on the front door rang, and I tried to mask a cringe. It was within ten minutes of closing time, and besides that—I wasn’t done talking to Ross. I plastered a smile on as I jumped up to greet the new arrival.