Play Me

Kendall ran over and handed me a bottle of water. I opened it and tipped it upside down, letting it pour directly into my mouth.

When I finished the bottle, I whispered, “More!”

She spun around to the back of her SUV and came out with two more bottles, both of which I drank in record time. When my throat finally seemed to be cooling off, I looked at her. She stared at me, biting her lip nervously.

Anger quickly coursed through my body, and she apparently knew to take a step back from me.

“What did you do?” I growled.

“Do? Wh-what do you mean?”

“Those had something in them, Kendall. Something hot.”

“Hot?”

“Yes. You little—”

Before I could take her by the throat and strangler her, a cop pulled up behind her parked car.

This was Kendall Wales’s lucky day.

15

Hunter

Once the cop made sure we weren’t in need of assistance, he headed back to his patrol car. He no sooner pulled away than I went to ask Kendall what in the hell she had put in my Mike and Ikes but was stopped when she turned on the satellite radio and had me plotting my own death—maybe hers, too. She did the unthinkable. The one thing that was sure to drive me over the edge of madness.

She put on eighties music. I was stunned into silence for a moment.

This is not happening. No. What are the odds? What did I do in my life to deserve this misery?

“Oh, I love this song!” Kendall cried out, reaching for the volume and turning it up.

The sounds of Wham! filled the car.

No. No. No, God, no!

My mother had infiltrated my world. Somehow, she had gotten to Kendall. This wasn’t the normal Boardroom Kendall. No, this was a relaxed, carefree Kendall. I instinctively looked around the car for cameras.

Kendall started singing a Wham! song.

I turned to her with a look of pleading. Begging. It didn’t work. She kept on singing.

“I love this song!”

Slamming my hands over my ears, I closed my eyes and thought of football, suspense movies, the Sports Illustrated calendar. I hadn’t been shocked when I started rocking in my seat. Memories from my childhood came rushing back. Hours upon hours of listening to this music.

“Stop!” I yelled. “Kendall, stop!”

“Why? What’s the matter? You don’t like Wham!?”

“I will pay you five hundred dollars to put on anything else. No, not anything—I don’t trust you. Put on some country.”

“Five hundred dollars. That is tempting, but you need to broaden your musical tastes, Hunter.”

When another song came on and I recognized what it was, my hand landed on her leg and squeezed. Kendall stilled.

“A thousand dollars. Please change it.”

“But this is ‘Sussudio.’ It’s a great song.”

“Unless you want me to hurl my body out of this moving car, you will change it. Now.”

“Okay! Okay! Calm down, I’ll change the station.”

A country song filled the car, and I instantly relaxed.

“Thank you,” I whispered, dropping my head back against the headrest.

“Hunter?”

I closed my eyes and attempted to steady my heart rate.

“Yeah?”

“Um… your hand.”

Lifting my head, I glanced over and saw my hand was moving up and down Kendall’s leg. I jerked my gaze from my hand to Kendall’s face. She was stopped at a light, and her teeth were sunk into her bottom lip as she stared at me with a look I couldn’t read.

“Sorry,” I said softly, withdrawing my hand and jamming my fingers through my hair in frustration. “Could you turn the AC on? It’s starting to get hot in this car.”

Without a word, she reached over and turned up the AC.

By the time we made it through Nashville, it was nearly lunchtime.

“What time is he expecting us?” Kendall asked.

“I told him it would be sometime after lunch. I wasn’t sure what time we’d be heading out this morning. I did let him know we wanted to stay and watch a practice. I’d like to see how he works with his players.”

Kendall nodded. “We could get lunch, text him that we’ll head his way after that.”

“That’ll work. Franklin is only forty-five minutes away. There’s a great place to eat that I think you’ll enjoy.”

“Sounds good.”

Less than an hour later, we were walking into 55 South. The waitress seated us right away. After she took our drink order, I asked for an order of fried pickles.

“Fried pickles?” Kendall asked, her nose crinkling up again. Damn if it didn't make my pants feel too small.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had fried pickles.”

“And if I haven’t?”

I sighed. “I have so much to teach you.”

Her eyes heated with something that looked like lust before she gazed back down to the menu.

Did I imagine that or does she want me as much as I want her?

After eating our order of fried pickles, two Nashville Hot Chicken sandwiches, and a large order of fries, we were full and ready to get on the road. The conversation had been light and easy, which was a shift from our normal. We talked about both business and personal topics. I asked her questions about where she grew up, and she asked me some about where I grew up. I confessed to the reason I hated eighties music only to have her laugh for a good five minutes. I had wanted to bring up the near burning of my throat, but I was enjoying myself too much. I’d bring it up another time.

“I’ll drive to the school,” I stated as we left the restaurant.

“What makes you think I’ll let you drive my car?”

Rolling my eyes, I stopped and looked at her. “Are we back to this?”

“To what?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

“Bickering, Kendall. Just let me drive the damn car. We’ll get there faster.”

“Are you saying I drive slow?”

“No. I’m saying I can get us there faster because I know where we’re going. In case you forgot, I used to live in this area.”

After a moment or two while she considered my argument, Kendall slapped the keys into my hand.

The drive to the high school was short—ten minutes at most. After stopping in the office to check in, we were escorted out to the field house and to Coach Mac White’s office. He stood and smiled as I motioned for Kendall to enter the room first. It didn’t take long for Boardroom Kendall to reappear.

“Mr. White, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for seeing us today to discuss the possibility of coaching for my team.”

Mac looked at me and then back to Kendall’s outstretched hand before shaking it. Mac and I had met a few years back after I had just started coaching for Tennessee. His brother-in-law had been my defensive line coach. I probably should have informed Kendall of our past connection, but it honestly hadn’t entered my mind. At least not until that very moment.

“It’s good to see you again, Hunter. How’ve you been?”

Shit.

Kendall snapped her head around and glared at me. She was clearly not happy to be just finding out this bit of information.

“I hadn’t realized you were acquaintances,” she said, shooting daggers straight at my head.

“Sure are. My brother-in-law Pete was the defensive line coach for Tennessee. Still is, as a matter of fact. Those boys sure could use you back, Coach. That losing streak they’re on is killing us all.”

I smiled, rubbing the instant ache in my neck, and took a seat.

“Listen, Mac, here is the situation. This team we’re looking to recruit a new coach for is in serious need of someone with a strong hand. They’re out of control, and I believe the quarterback, Josh McEvans, is the source of all the issues and negative media attention.”

“McEvans? Roger McEvans’s son? The NFL player?”

&nbs

p; I nodded. “The one and only.”

“Lost out on the Heisman Trophy because he couldn’t grow up.”

“Well, he still hasn’t.”

Mac rubbed his chin. “He’s got talent.”

“A lot of it,” Kendall added. “We simply need to refocus his energy to the right places.”

“We need to kick his ass into gear is what we need to do,” I added.

“Drop him to second string?” Mac asked.

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Mac replied, “If you do that for a few games, it will make him sit and think. You got a decent second string you could throw in?”