Interception (The New York Nighthawks 2)

I took a big sip of my coffee, hoping it would give me the energy to deal with my best friend and what she had planned for me tonight. “I don’t think I have anything I can even wear on a date. I can’t even remember the last time I went out with a guy.”

“Neither can I.” Her head tilted to the side as she cut her meal into bite-sized pieces. “I think the only time I’ve ever seen you with a boy was when we went on group outings that definitely didn’t count as dates.”

“Yeah, going to a movie with a bunch of us and having one of our friend’s boyfriends bring his friends doesn’t make it a date in any way, shape, or form.” Realizing how long it had been since I’d been interested in anyone other than Nixon, my nose wrinkled. “Oh, my gosh. How is it possible that the last time I kissed a boy, I was in middle school, and it was an innocent peck on the lips?”

Before shoving a forkful of food into her mouth, she let out a low whistle and murmured, “Girl, you really need to get out more.”

“I guess you’re right.” My shoulders slumped as I dug into the biscuits and gravy she’d served me. Although it was one of my favorite dishes, the food tasted like saw dust. I had to force myself to choke it down while Naomi chatted about the different outfits I could put together with the clothes already in my closet. When she decided we needed to go shopping for a sexy dress that would bring Jordan to his knees, I’d only made it halfway through my meal and decided I’d had enough. I was too nervous to eat—I just wished it was because I was excited about the date instead of resigned to taking the first step in getting over Nixon.

2

Nixon

“Damn, Nixon,” Prentice said with a low whistle. “You gearing up for a fight with Hulk or something?”

I tossed him an irritated frown as I jumped to my feet after doing fifty up-downs and two hundred squats. Sweat was pouring off my body because I’d been pushing myself harder than usual. I grabbed a towel and wiped my forehead and around to the back of my neck, already contemplating what to do next to keep my mind occupied.

“Just felt like a hard workout today,” I grumbled as I snatched a jump rope from a peg on the wall. That was mostly true. The reality was that I was on edge about my sister fixing Ember up on a date with one of my teammates. And after spending the previous evening with her, I needed to work off all the repressed sexual energy.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell Prentice that.

Starting out at a leisurely pace, I warmed up a bit before speeding up, then practiced my footwork as the rope whipped around me.

“Hey, Jordan.”

I nearly tripped when Prentice greeted one of our offensive lineman, Jordan Stallard. He also happened to be the guy Naomi wanted to set up with my gi—Ember. Which made him an asshole in my book.

Somehow, I kept my composure and continued to skip rope.

“Prentice, how’s it going?” he responded to my brother-in-law as they shook hands.

“Can’t complain. You need a spotter?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about your wife.”

My pace slowed slightly and my head turned a couple of degrees so I could fully see their expressions.

Prentice raised an eyebrow and folded his huge arms over his equally huge chest, his stare hard and focused. Jordan swallowed hard but didn’t otherwise let on how intimidated he was.

Impressive. But still an asshole.

“What about my wife?”

“I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I wanted to make sure you did, and that it wasn’t anything you should be worried about. I figured it was better to make sure you heard it from me rather than the grapevine, and I didn’t want you to be upset with your wife-–”

Rambling. Less impressive. Still an asshole.

Prentice’s lips twitched, and I realized he was messing with our teammate.

My pace dropped back to a leisurely pace…to rest, not so I could hear their conversation better.

“Spit it out, Jordan,” the quarterback growled.

Jordan didn’t buckle, and I had to give him a little credit for that.

Yeah, but he’s still an asshole.

“Your wife called me.”

Prentice was silent for so long, I was worried he might have actually cracked Jordan, but then he grinned and clapped the O lineman on the back. “Yeah, I know. I’m just fucking with you.”

Jordan rolled his eyes and punched Prentice in the shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”

Takes one to know one.

“If it had been anyone but your wife,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

Prentice laughed. “She called you about Ember, huh?”

“She wants to set us up,” he confirmed with a nod. “Since she’s friends with your wife, I’m assuming it’s safe to say that this won’t be something I deeply regret for the rest of my life?”