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Rookie Move (Playing for Keeps 1)

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As quickly as it happened, Garrett let go, everyone running over to celebrate with us.

We’d done it. We’d won our first preseason game, and I was pretty sure Garrett was flying. Damn, did I like to see him soar.

6

GARRETT

I’d thought the high of kicking ass at the Gator Bowl senior year of college was intense, but taking Vegas in our first preseason game blew it away. And it wasn’t even a “real” game. Vegas was a strong team, though, so scoring that touchdown as a rookie had been validating, especially on the tail end of a brutal training camp.

My mood had soared in the clouds alongside our plane as we flew back to Denver, so of course, when a bunch of the team decided to go out and party, I wasn’t gonna miss a chance to keep riding that high.

And also get laid. I deserved it, after all.

“Damn, the pickings are pretty slim tonight.” Cross wrinkled his nose and polished off the rest of his vodka and soda.

“Since when are you so picky? Last time we were out, you hooked up with a woman who sounded like she’d swallowed a murder of crows.” Seriously, I’d never heard someone with such a screechy voice, and I had a high tolerance for annoying people, obviously, since I myself was often one of them.

“The curves offset the voice.” Cross waggled his brows.

I was unconvinced. “I hope you fucked in a soundproof room. I’d feel bad for any neighbors who had to hear all that squawking.”

“Ca-cawwww.” He grinned and flipped me off, then lifted his glass to signal for another as a waitress passed by, before rising. “I’ve gotta take a piss.”

As he walked away, I scanned the crowd from where I sat on one of the club’s low leather couches, the table in front of us littered with half-filled glasses next to a bottle of Grey Goose in a silver bucket. The Imperial Room had hooked the team up in their VIP area, which overlooked a packed, neon-lit dance floor, and came complete with its own private bar, bottle service, and dedicated staff—all the shit I’d always looked forward to and now planned to enjoy to the fullest.

Unlike Cross, I had no problem finding late-night potential, since men were on the agenda too. I’d been keeping track of a dark-haired guy who rocked the hell out of the business-exec look in a suit that fit like it’d been custom-tailored. He sat in a little enclave of chairs and tables with a bunch of other men dressed similarly. We’d caught eyes a couple of times, and did so again just then. He gave me an inviting twist of a smile, and I gave him the same back before continuing my visual recon. There was still a lot of night left, and it’d take a really promising lay to make me dip early, but if Business Executive was still around later, well…

I landed on Ramsey next, sporting one of his indulgent smiles as Tucker gestured animatedly. Tucker had been hyped about the win, and I’d put money on it that he was rehashing the game for the twentieth time. He wasn’t a fan of the Vegas team, especially their QB, who he said was one of the most arrogant fucks who’d ever stepped foot on the field. I’d heard that too, but I didn’t have a strong opinion either way. Still, overhearing him railing against their offense, their uniforms, and their missed field goal on the plane ride back had been entertaining.

As I watched, Ramsey lifted the shot glass one of our other teammates, Ross, handed him, and swallowed it back smoothly. I fought hard not to imagine him on his knees, swallowing me instead, but I needed to keep my eye on something I could actually have in this lifetime.

When after another couple of minutes, neither Cross nor the waitress returned, I stood, headed for the bar, and slid onto an empty stool. The bartender, a stacked dude with hair messily spiked in some kind of homage to punk, stopped in front of me, biceps popping as he leaned on the bar. “What can I get you?”

Late-night potential number 2. I matched his forward lean, getting close enough to see he had a darker ring of blue around his irises. “IPA. Whatever your favorite is that’s on draft.”

“You got it.” He flashed me a wink.

Movement to my left caught my eye, and I turned my head in time to see Business Exec take the stool next to me and set his rocks glass on top of the bar. He gave a cursory glance to one of the flat screens above the bar before angling a playful look at me. “I recognize you.”

“Me?” I feigned innocence. “I’m flattered.”

He chuckled. “Having half the team here helped put you in context.”


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