Play Maker (Bitsberg Knights Duet)

“Oh, thank God. You’d be surprised how many people are turned off by that,” I fired back, loving the game she’d started.

Shelby flapped a hand, still giggling. “No biggie.”

“What a relief. Since you know all my dirt, how about sharing some of your own? What do I need to know about Shelby Markson? What am I getting myself into?”

Shelby's eyes met mine, a beautiful smile still taking over her face from our banter. “Hmmm,” she started, tapping a finger on her chin. “Should I tell you? Or let you find out for yourself?”

“I think you know which way I’m voting.”

She laughed again. “Honestly? I’m very boring. I’ve spent seven years buried under books, and now, I’m done with school and buried in debt.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, hitching a shoulder. “It’s all right, though. It’ll all be worth it.”

“True. Lawyers probably pay off student loans pretty damn quick.”

“Well, not the ones who work at the public defender’s office,” she quipped.

“Oh?” My eyebrow arched, caught off guard by her statement. Shelby wasn’t flashy or presumptuous, but she carried herself in a way that made it easy to see her as a powerful lawyer. She’d own the courtroom as the star of some downtown firm, wearing her designer suits, eating fancy business lunches. “You’re going to be a public defender?”

She nodded. “That’s the plan once I get my test results back, at least.”

“Why would you want to be a public defender and not a partner at some fancy firm if you don’t mind my asking?”

She smiled. “No, I don’t mind. It’s a long story, but the nutshell version is that I believe they stack the system against certain people, and I want to be a voice of reason in the madness.” The tone of her voice was fused with passion and an edge of anger. “I’ve seen firsthand what it can do to innocent people’s lives when no one is fighting for real justice and truth.”

I leaned back in my seat as though her strong words had blasted me back a few inches. “I think that’s very admirable, Shelby. I’d love to hear the long version of that story sometime.”

She nodded but didn’t launch into it, so I dropped it. “So, you’ll be staying here in town then?”

“Yeah. I’m waiting for my results from the bar association. I should have had them over a month ago; I’ve already lined up a job in the office downtown. Not too far from here, actually. I’ve called the bar, and they kept giving me the runaround. The last time I called, they found my file and said they’d process it immediately, so now it’s just a waiting game—although at least I know it’s being worked on. And embarrassingly enough, I’m still at my parent's. I’ll be looking for a place of my own as soon as I can. What about you? You staying in Bitsberg after this season?”

I shrugged my shoulders. Another unpleasant topic. She sure had a knack for unearthing things I didn’t necessarily want to delve into. “Actually, I’m in limbo right now. I guess it’ll depend on how the postseason shakes out. My contract could be extended, or they could cut me. And if that happens, I don’t know where I’ll end up. A four-year quarterback with no real experience in the game has limited options.”

Shelby smiled as she raised her wineglass to her lips. “Then it’s a damn good thing you kicked ass tonight, isn’t it?”

9

Shelby

I couldn’t pin that man down. One minute, he was all bedroom eyes and wandering glances. The next, he was quiet and reserved, almost like a turtle retreating into his shell. A shell I desperately wanted to break through. Throughout dinner, we meandered through a handful of topics; his career, my hopes for my own, and exchanged stories from our time in college. We never circled back to talking about his family, which only made me more curious about who he really was and where he came from.

By the time the server dropped off the check, it was nearly midnight. Ross quickly picked up the tab, and I bundled back into my coat, preparing for the icy blast that had only gotten worse since we stepped into the restaurant. I pulled on my gloves and tugged up the collar of my coat. “Thank you for dinner. It was great,” I said as he ushered me through the deserted restaurant. The staff all waved goodbye as we went, likely relieved to be able to break everything down and go home. I hoped they all had snow tires.

Ross pulled open the front door, and we both jolted at the frosty air that poured into the foyer. “Yikes.” He flicked a button on his keys, and I heard the truck roar to life. “Keyless start,” he explained. “Gotta warm her up in this weather.”