CHAPTER FOUR
CHANCE
“You invited her to lunch? Ballsy.”
David’s leaning up against his Tesla in the players’ parking lot. I’d give him shit for buying an electric car if the thing wasn’t so damn fast. Leaves my Mustang for dead.
I grab my balls. “Hey, it’s not like I was asking her to a gang bang.”
“The bigger question is how you got her to say yes.”
I extend my hands. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.”
“Or irritating. Same-same.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re a fucking douche.”
He smiles back. “And you’re going nowhere with Sam unless…”
“I’m listening.”
He pushes himself off the Tesla and comes closer, scouting to make sure we’re alone. He points to his head. “You’re going to have to work out what’s going on up here with her if you want to have any chance of…” He make an ‘o’ with his forefinger and thumb and slides the finger from his other hand in and out, his point crystal clear. “Getting here.”
“And what does the almighty David Tarryton suggest? Hate to tell you, but psychology isn’t my strong suit.”
David acts shocked. “No.”
“Stop fucking around. What’s the sit?”
David cocks an eyebrow at me. “The situation? Jesus, we’re not in Afghanistan any more, though I could go some of that Tandoori chicken from Kunar. You try that shit? Change your life, pal.”
“Come on. What do I do? How do I attack this one?”
I don’t know quite how it happened, but David’s become something of a father figure to me. I value his advice, not that I’d ever admit to it.
He crosses his arms. “Well, given you’re still talking military to me, I’ll reply in turn by saying this Sam is no shack rat. She’s a respectable girl, which means you’re going to have to drop the dick-swinging if you ever want your Papa into her Victor.”
“Message received.”
David looks dubious. “Is it? Reel it back. That’s all I’m saying.” He opens his car door. “Oh, and more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Try to keep it in your pants for at least half the date, will you?”
I wink. “It’s not a date, dumbass. It’s lunch.”
He slides inside laughing to himself.
As he drives away silently I think over his guidance. If there’s one thing I learned in in the Corps it’s to always go into a mission prepared, so that’s precisely what I’m going to do.
Brace yourself, Sam Carter. Chance Motherfucking Adams is coming.
*
Training is brutal. The heatwave has continued to push on. I swear to god I can see the stands bending.
“I want blood, sweat and tears, gentlemen, and not necessarily in that order.”
Fucking Head Coach Davis. I thought my drill sergeant was bad, but this guy’s a sadist. Back-to-back wind sprints in this heat? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Alas, he is not. “Adams? You done with your crochet over there? Get fucking moving.”
“Yes, Coach,” I get out between clenched teeth, running to reset on the ten-yard line.”
“Let’s get physical, boys,” the bastard bellows. “Tackling is allowed.” He blows the whistle and we’re back on.
It’s then I notice Sam standing near the water table on the sidelines. She’s wearing a skirt today—short and flowy, not nearly short or tight enough. She needs to flaunt that body, not hide it.
I’m picturing my hands running up those legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of her panties, my face between her legs. She tastes so fucking good.
I’m blindsided from the left, one of our outside linebackers-slash-human Mack trucks, mowing me down into the grass, his weight crushing me into the ground.
“Adams!” shouts Coach. “You ready to come back to earth? I swear to the Lord almighty if you don’t stop your damn daydreaming I’m going to ram my foot up your ass and wear you ’round like a fucking flip flop. You hearing me?”
I manage to get up. “Loud and clear, Coach.”
I see Sam. She’s laughing. It’s a beautiful fucking sight. If that’s what it takes to get her to smile, fuck it, the whole team can use me as their tackle bag for all I care. Anything to be with her, her body under mine, her lips wrapped around my cock.
David swings past and taps me on the helmet. “A smile, hey? That’s a start, cowboy, and all you had to do was get turned into turf by the heaviest linebacker in the league.”
He’s still laughing as he runs off.
“Adams!” comes the cry again. “My dead grandmother has better hearing than you. Get back to it.”
But I no longer care. Sam is smiling and the world at that moment is completely right. Even my dick agrees, doing its best to break through my jockstrap. If I keep staring at her like this, it just might.
I make my way over to the water table when we break. She has her arms crossed.
“You on the clock?” I ask, pulling off my helmet.
“Why, you need some work?”
Is she flirting with me right now? “And if I do?”
She shrugs. “I’m at lunch, sorry. Thought I’d get some fresh air. That massage room is a bit of a bunker.”
“I’ll talk to Morgan, find you somewhere better.”
She puts her hand out. “No, please don’t. I mean, thanks, but it’s fine.” She reaches for a cup and fills it. “How about a drink?”
I look down into the water. “The hard stuff.”
“You’re turning down a drink? I thought only girls did that.”
I take it and slug it back in one go. “Not the girls I meet.”
Tone it down, Chance. Tone it the fuck down.
Mercifully, she laughs a little. “You really think you’re something, don’t you?
Easy. “The stats do the talking, but it’s research that makes me the best.” I take a step closer, can smell the sweet vanilla her body’s giving off out here in the heat. “I like to know my opponents, all their intricacies and secrets, all their ins and outs. You’ve always got to be one step ahead.”
I see her swallow and all I want to do is kiss the side of her throat, feel that nipple I know is rock hard beneath her blouse against my palm. “Is that a fact?”
“I’ve done my research on you too.”
I want it to sound sexy, but I sound like a stalker. I can see her grow physically uncomfortable, arms re-folding across her chest. “What do you mean?”
I’ve got to play this carefully. “I mean I’m looking into you and I’m coming up blank.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Is it? I want to know everything about you, so sue me. You’re intriguing.”
“I’ve heard better pick-up lines.”
Where’s this sass coming from? “You’ll spill everything at lunch tomorrow.”
“You really think so? Like I said, I’m not easy. I’m not even in the market.”
“For a car, a handbag? Because that’s no problem. I know…”
She’s smiling again. “You know very well what I mean, but that’s not going to stop you, is it?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You think calling me ‘ma’am’ is going to win my affection? Because that is what you want, isn’t it?”
I look over her, sweep her from head to toe, and undress her with my eyes until she’s naked and ready. “I want it all.”
“Tomorrow,” she says, starting to walk away.
“Tomorrow,” I repeat to myself, my cock doing its best impression of a tire iron against my pants.
*
In the showers I talk it over with David through the steam. “You should have seen her, man. She was giving it back to me.”
He starts building up a lather in his hair. “So she should. It’s probably a refreshing change for you—a girl who can put two sentences together.”
I splash water at him. “Fuck you, but I don’t know. You should have seen the way she closed up when I said I’d done my research on her. I mean, she looked scared—really scared.”
“Wouldn’t you be if you were you approaching by a six-two stalk-a-tron 5000?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I’m telling you, she’s hiding from something.”
He wipes shampoo from his eyes. “And you want to find out what. Am I right?”
“You are.”
“And you want me to help?”
“I do.”
He lifts his face up into the stream of water. “Why do I get myself involved in your crazy schemes? You’ve got a plan, no doubt.”
I shut the water off. It continues to run down my body. “We go to Morgan and have him look into her a bit. You know, under the pretense of concerned citizens and shit.”
“Why can’t you go by yourself?
I reach for a towel. “Morgan loves me, true, but I don’t think my word’s enough. If you’re there too, echoing my concerns, there’s no way he will say no.”
“Why not just hire someone yourself?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Come on. How does it look if I’m the one doing the snooping?”
“You kind of are.”
I put my hands on my head. David’s probably getting a nice eyeful of my old man, but it isn’t a sight he hasn’t seen a thousand times already. “Enough with the questions. Is it a solid plan? Probably not, but it’s all I’ve got. Are you in?”
“You sound like my wife.”
“Well?” I press.
He relents. “Fine. Fuck. We’ll go to Morgan and run him through it, see if we can’t get him to look a little harder. Who knows? Maybe she’s a spy, an heiress hiding from her parents, maybe even an alien?”
“With three breasts? Yeah, you wish.”
David slaps me on the ass as he walks past. “I’m an ass man, remember?”
*
It’s late when we finally go looking for Morgan. Given the time of night, however, there’s only one place he could be. He lives in this stadium. It’s his office, his home—his everything. His wife is some kind of events coordinator always traveling. I’d almost feel sorry for the guy if he wasn’t loaded.
We find him sitting at the VIP bar on the top level of the stadium, a kind of secret place he takes high rollers to butter them up for sponsorship. They love the exclusivity, of course, but after hours it’s all his, and ours.
He turns from his drink.
“Well,” he exclaims, “if it isn’t my two golden boys”.
I take a seat on one side, David on the other.
Morgan nods to the collection of bottles at the back of the bar. “Want anything? There’s enough poison here to fix any problem.”
I look to David. “I’ll pass.”
Morgan picks up his tumbler and kicks what’s left in it back. “Hot damn that stuff will make you a man. So, what’s going on?”
“Samantha,” I state.
Morgan nods to his glass. “The masseuse. I can’t say you took this much interest in Bertha.”
“You’re really asking that? I’m still not sure Bertha was actually a woman.
Morgan laughs. “Fair enough, and Sam? Yes, she’s settling right on in. The players love her.”
There’s a pang of jealousy thinking about her hands on anyone else, but I try to tell myself it’s her job, her profession. Does she think about me like that? I wonder. Am I just another client, another body?
“Actually, we’re a little concerned about her,” David cuts in, the fatherly reason.
That gets Morgan attention. The idea any of his precious flock might be in trouble sends him running to the rescue. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong exactly,” I continue, “but we think she might be in trouble”.
Morgan seems confused. “What makes you say that?”
I shrug and suddenly realize we’re not operating on much here. “Call it a hunch, intuition.”
Morgan chortles, picking up his tumbler again, spinning it in his hand, the thin layer of liquor at the bottom turning into a whirlpool. “I know all about your ‘intuition’ with the opposite sex, Adams.”
“Do you think you can look into her background a bit?” adds David.
Morgan splits his gaze between us. “Want do you want me to do? Hire a private investigator?”
I exchange another look with David before speaking. “That’s a fine idea, actually.”
Morgan doesn’t look convinced. “You’re serious?”
David, always the persuader, places a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “It’s simply for peace of mind. If she is in trouble, we only want to help.”
Morgan chews it over, breathing out. “Okay. I trust you two, and heck, you’ve asked for crazier things before, so if you want someone to look into her, I’ll get it done. I know a PI I can trust.”
“You’ll let us know what they find?” I ask, a touch too eager.
Morgan nods. “I will. For now, get yourselves down to training. We’re head to head with the Jets next and I sure as hell don’t want to hand New York a victory.”
“Yes, sir,” we both reply, standing up and drifting back to the doors together.
“That was easy,” David whispers.
“True, but like you said, I doubt Sam is.”
But fuck it, if there’s one thing I love, it’s a challenge.
There’s no skeleton she could possibly be hiding in that cute little closet of hers that is going to stop me from making her mine.