Not My Match (The Game Changers 2)

She pulls a pair of goggles out from the box while “Body Like a Back Road” blares, and she hums along. “Get that club from the Hummer. Shit is about to get real.”

I do as she says, swinging the club as I walk back to her, wondering what the hell she’s going to do.

“Here, hold my beer.”

“Said every redneck before they wake up in the hospital.” I chuckle as I take it, and she slides on her goggles, sets a white mug on the stump, and picks up the club.

“Stand clear,” she says. After backing up a few paces, she arches her back, her stance confident and sure as she grips the club.

“This one is for my asshole advisor. The one who thinks women aren’t as good as men.” Swift and sure, she swings the club. Crack! The cup shatters, the pieces flying through the air.

I whistle, watching the glass fall. “Damn.”

A satisfied grunt comes from her as she snatches an old blue vase and slams it on the stump. “This is for Preston. Cheating sonofabitch,” she yells as she connects. The ceramic bursts as it sails across the field.

“Yeehaw!” I yell.

She pauses to take a drink of her beer, and my eyes eat her up.

“What?” she asks, threading the club through her fingers.

“You’re like every guy’s wet dream for a farm girl—you know that, right? It’s dark, we’ve got a barn, country music is playing, and your shorts are killing me.”

She moves her hips, making the frayed fringe swish. “I’ve washed them. I bought others, but these are my favorite.”

“You played sports, didn’t you?” I ask, taking her bottle, watching her line up with what looks like a candy dish on the stump. Confident. Efficient. Graceful. Hot.

“Volleyball. Considered a scholarship once, but I knew it would screw with my grades in college.”

“I went the other direction, chose getting drafted over a diploma. Never was a good student. The game took most of my time.”

She cocks her head. “Does it bother you that you didn’t finish?”

“Football, it’s always been enough . . .” I toe at a piece of gravel.

“But?” She leans on the club.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m set for life, but I wish I’d tried harder. Regrets, maybe?” I shrug. “It does feel like everyone around me is more educated—even Jack graduated with honors.”

“What does this insecurity stem from?” She’s lowered the club, giving me her full attention.

I grin, deflecting. “I don’t see a couch around here, Dr. Riley. Stop trying to analyze me, and hit something.”

She studies me. “You quote Carl Sagan, and you own a business. You have the best stats for a wide receiver in the league. Has someone said you aren’t intelligent? Has someone made you feel less than? Give me their name. I’m going to smack them around.”

“Savage, aren’t you?” I grin.

“When someone hurts you, yes.”

I smirk.

“It was a woman. I just feel it. Who was she?” She’s got her mouth pursed, a hand on her hip, and I don’t doubt for a second she’d hunt down my ex. “Come on; tell me. I told you about Bobby Ray, and you skirted over your first time. You owe me a story. I’ve told you so much!”

I open my mouth, then shut it, pacing around. I should tell her; it’s Giselle, and she’s brought me to a special place, and I like her . . . shit, no, I don’t like her like that—I can’t, I just can’t. I chew on my bottom lip.

“Dev?”

I throw my hands up. “Her name was Hannah. I met her first semester of my freshman year at a frat party. She played hard to get, and I chased her, waited for her after her classes, texted her, all that stuff. I thought I could just get her out of my system, but she was different.” A long exhalation comes from my chest. “Smart, working on a premed degree, and money, lots of family money. She was not my usual, though, not a fan of the party scene or into football. Finally, I convinced her to go out with me, and we fell in love. She didn’t care that I lived and breathed football, and I didn’t care that she spent a lot of time studying in the library. We just clicked when we were together. Our plan was for me to get drafted, her to start med school, then get married as soon as we could.”

A harsh laugh comes from me. “She dumped me at the beginning of senior year for a guy in her premed classes. Some nerd guy with arms like sticks who couldn’t run if a snail was chasing him, but he was really what she wanted; it just took her meeting someone smarter than me to know I wasn’t her future. They got married on spring break, and I flew to Cabo and got the drunkest I’ve ever been in my life. Spent the entire week covered in tequila and bikinis. Haven’t looked back since. She left me—just like everyone else.”