“Here you go, Big Mac,” Bastian said, handing my dad a bag filled with high-end moisturizers.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, not wanting Dad to see my Rebels polo, a perk of my new coaching job. I’d been waiting to tell him the news until I saw him in person, and I was bursting with excitement. I’d had my first day of work, and the team had already issued a press release. It was official—I was a coach in the NFL, even if it was a temporary, consulting position.

To my disappointment, I hadn’t done much actual work my first day. Instead, I was stuck signing a million pieces of paperwork—so many nondisclosure agreements and policy guidelines, it made my head spin. And that was the “expedited” training and paperwork. I shuddered to imagine the regular process for a new hire—the league took their paperwork seriously.

Finally, when I thought my hand was going to fall off, I was rewarded with some team gear to wear for practices and games. Since they’d never had a woman on the coaching staff, I was given the choice of some of the clothes from the team shop. When I slipped the signature blue polo over my head and looked at my reflection in the mirror, I knew I was home. I might not have much, if any, job security in my current position, but there were a number of perks. Not only was I working with my dream team, doing a job I’d been born to do, I got free meals at the cafeteria, free team apparel, and two tickets for each home game.

“Thanks,” Dad said, pulling each of us in for a hug. “You look happy,” he said when he released me. “What’s going on?”

With my new job, I’d asked my dad if we could have dinner on Sunday this week. Soon, my Thursday nights would be consumed by preseason games. And, fingers crossed, a month later, Sunday nights would be spent on the field.

“Mmm.” Bastian sniffed the air with a smile, rubbing his hands together. “Smells delicious.”

I should’ve known my dad would cook his famous chili when he’d invited Bastian to join us. My bestie had been trying to get the secret recipe out of Dad for years. I didn’t blame Bastian—it was freaking delicious. And if I had any hope in hell of cooking it without catastrophic results, I’d be hitting him up for it too.

“Buttering me up already,” Dad teased, heading to the kitchen when a timer chimed. He pulled a skillet of cornbread out of the oven, and my stomach growled.

“So…what’s this big news you keep hinting at?” he asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge and handing one to each of us.

I popped the top off mine, taking a sip before leaning against the counter. “I got a coaching job.”

“You did? That’s great. For one of the high schools?”

I shook my head, my grin widening into a huge smile. “Think bigger.”

“A college team?” he asked, slicing the cornbread and dishing it out on plates.

“For the Boston Rebels,” Bastian blurted, beaming with pride.

The spatula my dad was holding dropped to the floor, and little flecks of cornbread flew everywhere. He glanced between Bastian and me, and I knew he was holding his breath, waiting to see if this was a joke.

“It’s true, Dad.” I unzipped my jacket to reveal my new shirt emblazoned with the team logo. “I’m a consulting QC coach for the Boston Rebels.”

He threw his arms around me, and I could feel the love radiating from him. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice gruff.

He pulled away, his eyes watery, matching my own. “Aww, Dad. You old softie,” I teased, but only so I wouldn’t cry.

After my mom died, football had been the one thing that got us through the loss. The one thing that held us together when everything else was falling apart. And now I’d finally taken a step toward accomplishing my dreams. I might not be inducted into the Football Hall of Fame anytime soon, but this achievement was no less momentous.

“Does this mean I get season tickets? All-access VIP passes to the players?” He grinned, his expression a mixture of tentative hope and excitement.

“One day on the job, and you’re already trying to cash in on my success,” I teased. “But yes, I can score you some tickets.”

“Me too?” Bastian asked, practically bouncing on his toes. He cared more about the players than the game, but it didn’t matter. He was supportive of my passion, and his eyes never glazed over when I talked football. More than that, though, he’d been by my side through everything…my mom’s death, my first college crush—who he’d also been crushing on—my first heartbreak.

“Only the best for my two favorite men.” I winked as we sat down to eat.

I shoveled a spoonful of chili into my mouth, starving after a long run this morning and an intense day of work. When camp wrapped up last week, I’d found it hard to say goodbye to Abigail. We’d promised to keep in touch, and I exchanged e-mails with her dad. Now that I’d gotten a job with the Rebels, I couldn’t wait to invite her to a home game.

"That one left my skin greasy," Dad said, snapping me back to the present.

An alternate reality where my dad and Bastian were discussing skin care. I was used to Bastian’s obsession by now, but my dad? Clearly, he’d been abducted by aliens.

I turned to the man currently inhabiting his body. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with my father?”

He merely laughed, and it was then that I realized he looked happier than he had in years. His shoulders were relaxed, his eyes filled with mirth, and I was immediately suspicious. I narrowed my eyes at him. I would’ve asked if he’d met someone, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t considered dating anyone since my mom died.

“You really should take better care of your skin, Blake,” Bastian chided. “One day, all that time in the sun playing and coaching sports is going to bite you in the ass.”

“Hey,” I said, stealing a bite of his cornbread. “I use sunscreen.”

“Yeah, the cheap drugstore kind. You need to up your game.” He pointed his spoon at me, completely unfazed. “When you’re old and gray and your skin feels like the leather hide of a football, you’ll be thanking me.”

I bowed my head, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “The leather hide of a football? Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“He probably knows you’ll only listen if it concerns football,” Dad said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Hey now. Not you too?”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, honey,” he said with a doting smile. My dad had always been my biggest cheerleader, my number one fan. When other people told me I was too tall, too blond, too…whatever, he challenged me to prove them wrong.

Over time, I’d learned to use my opponents’ preconceived notions to my advantage. While they were busy judging my appearance, breaking me down, I was focused on learning how to beat them. As my dad liked to say, I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“As do I,” Bastian said. “But there aren’t many women coaches in the league—soon, all eyes are going to be on you.”

I shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been in the spotlight.

“No,” Bastian said, shaking his head. “This isn’t like when you went to the Olympics. Yes, you had interviews and you were performing on a huge world stage, but…”

“This is the NFL,” Dad said. “You’re joining the ultimate boys’ club, and there are many who will want to see you fail.”

I met my dad’s eyes, a fire igniting in me at the challenge. “Good.” I grinned.

I wasn’t afraid of a little competition on or off the field. In fact, I thrived on it, took pleasure in proving people wrong. And this would be no different, because I fully intended to dominate the gridiron.

I arrived at the stadium over an hour early. I'd been too excited to sleep, and I wanted to familiarize myself with my office and the space the players had affectionately dubbed “the man cave.” I settled into one of the large leather armchairs to run through a few segments from the Coaches Film. I’d already watched the footage a dozen times, evaluating it from both the All-22 and the High End Zone views, but it was different seeing it on such a large screen.

I made notes on my tablet, immersing myself in the game, dissecting the movements of the team. The offense had played well, but there was always room for improvement. And that’s why I was here—to point out weaknesses, to celebrate strengths, but most of all, to coach them to live up to their potential, both on and off the field.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. I was here to provide support for the QC coach during his treatment. The intent was that I would keep him organized, but occasionally, I might need to step in and fill his role. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t go above and beyond. I’d been given a unique opportunity, and I intended to make the most of it.

This morning would be my first true interaction with the players, and I wanted to make a good impression. Though I’d been introduced to the team as a whole, I had yet to speak to all fifty-three players on the roster plus the practice squad. And, with Steven out of the office for another treatment, it fell to me to walk through the film with the team.

At the sound of the door opening, I turned to find Colt Whitney standing at the threshold. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him; his broad shoulders nearly filled the doorframe. And he was just as handsome as I remembered.

“Thought I might find you here.” He smirked but didn’t make a move to enter. “May I?”

“Of course,” I said, standing to greet him. I was grateful to finally have a chance to speak with him privately.

I stepped closer, trying to ignore the way his eyes tracked my every move, stalking me like a linebacker preparing to blitz. He was insanely attractive, and just as I’d thought—trouble. That said, he’d clearly seen something in me that made him recommend me for the job. I knew I was more than capable, but the fact that he’d endorsed me, he’d stuck his neck out for me when there was no reason to… Well, he might just be my new favorite person. Not that I’d ever admit it to him. I had a feeling that kind of praise would go to his head.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting. The sneaky devil knew exactly what I was referring to.

“For suggesting me to the coaching staff. You have no idea how grateful I am,” I said.

He shrugged. “It was a no-brainer. You impressed me, especially with the way you put Tyrese in his place.”

I cringed, thinking back to my first encounter with the rookie kicker. “Yeah, probably best not to mention it again."

I’d seen Tyrese around, but he was always surrounded by other rookies or talking with the cheerleaders fluttering about the stadium. I had yet to face him again, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I was just thankful I wasn’t the special teams QC. Otherwise, I’d really be stuck with him for the season.

Colt chuckled. “Fine, but my silence comes at a price.” His tone was teasing, and he leaned closer, tantalizing me with his spicy, masculine scent.

“Oh yeah?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Unlike most guys, though, he didn’t let his eyes stray to my breasts; they remained locked on mine.

He gave me a wicked grin I found irresistible, but all that changed the moment he spoke. “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

My head jerked back. Only a few days into the job, and we were already playing this game? My hand itched to slap him, but the longer we stood there, the more I got the feeling he was testing me. Seeing if I could hang with the big boys, so to speak.

“You do realize you said that aloud, right?” I asked, my tone more playful than accusatory.

“I do.” He smirked. “And I meant it. Because I’d love to see an Olympic gold medal, and something tells me you’re dying to hold a championship ring in your hands.”

“Oh,” I said. Suddenly I felt silly for assuming the worst. Silly and oddly disappointed. It wouldn’t have been the first time a player hit on me. But unlike the other instances, I actually found myself wishing he had.

“I have to say, when I looked you up, I was impressed—an academic scholarship, a PhD in sports psychology, an Olympic gold medalist.” I stood a little taller with every accomplishment he listed, both flattered and impressed by his knowledge of my background.

“Someone’s done their research,” I said, a blush creeping up my neck.

“You’re an interesting study.”

The air between us swirled with tension, and I told myself to back away, even as I found myself pulled toward him. Colt was magnetic, and I struggled to resist his allure.

“Am I interrupting?” I whipped my head toward the door. Tristan Holmes was watching us, brow furrowed.

I jumped back from Colt, feeling my cheeks heat even though I’d technically done nothing wrong. Shaking my head, I wondered why I’d allowed myself to be in such a compromising position. Especially knowing the rest of the offense could arrive any minute.

“Not at all. Please come in,” I said, beckoning him to join us.

The two men greeted each other with a handshake and pat to the back. Colt left Tristan and me to talk, selecting the seat to the right of the one my stuff was sitting in.

I stepped closer to Tristan, seizing the opportunity to finally introduce myself properly. “I’m Blake Mackenzie, consulting QC coach.”

He took my hand in his, his long fingers encasing my own, curling around mine protectively. His skin was surprisingly soft, and my first thought was how pleased Bastian would be. I rolled my eyes at myself.

“Tristan Holmes,” he said, his voice gruff.

He held on to my hand a moment longer than was necessary, his green eyes piercing. Today, they were darker, reminding me of the turf on the field. I knew he was sizing me up, and I held his intense gaze, unwilling to be the first to break. When he finally severed the connection, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from my lungs. I’d told him nothing more than my name and title, yet I felt like he’d seen to the very depths of my soul.

Voices rang out down the hallway, echoing off the walls and carrying into the room. Tristan left me, taking a seat at the end of the first row and burying his head in his phone. Xavier Lee burst into the room, followed by about five of the other offensive players. The group introduced themselves one by one before taking a seat. Xavier was last.

“Xavier Lee,” he said, offering his hand.

His smile was warm, his eyes alight with happiness, and I instantly felt at ease. Even though we stood nearly eye to eye, I was dwarfed by him, by his presence. He was larger than life, and his smile was contagious.

His dreads were pulled back into a half-up style, and I found myself sucked into his chocolate-brown eyes. I didn’t know much about number twenty-three, not that I’d scoured the internet for gossip on my players. Their personal life was just that. Still, from what little I’d read or watched in postgame interviews, he seemed humble and sweet. I got the feeling he was a giant teddy bear.

As we settled in to dissect the Coaches Film, I took my seat between Xavier and Colt. This was everything I’d ever wanted, and I couldn’t believe it was my new reality. I still had so much I wanted to accomplish, but I finally felt I was on the path to my destiny. My legacy.