Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,24

whipped cream on all of our dates too.”

“Is that so?”

Sebastian tugged on Lachlan’s hair. “But no nuts.”

He frowned. “Why not, little man?”

Sebastian pointed to the offense. “Because you told the other football players you’d bust the nuts with her.”

Lachlan cringed. “O-kay. Let’s…not repeat that when you go home to Mom.”

“Why not?” Sebastian asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah, Charming. Why not?”

“Mom is very sensitive about…” He twitched. “Her ice cream toppings. Why don’t you go play with the ball?”

Sebastian frowned at his brother. “But you said you wanted Elle to play with the balls.”

“You’re killing me, Bast.”

I glanced over my shoulder for a moment too long. Peter was gone, but that just made the problem worse.

Ice cream, even without sprinkles, sounded so much better than a conspiracy in Gainesville.

“You okay?” Lachlan hoisted Sebastian higher onto his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh…” What was I supposed to say? “Nothing. I just got a bunch of new responsibilities today.”

Lachlan perked up. “Like a promotion?”

“Sure. Something like that.”

“We should celebrate! Let me take you out to dinner. Three times.”

“Lachlan—”

He wasn’t listening. He pinched Sebastian’s leg to get his attention. “Say the line, little man.”

Sebastian flailed, knocking on his head with a tiny fist until he remembered what Lachlan had coached him to say.

“Oh! Right!” The words blubbered out in a steady stream with no real cadence or rhythm. “Lachlan is a lot of fun. You should go out with him because…because you would have lots of fun. And he’s good to have fun with.”

Lachlan nodded. “Smooth, Casanova.”

“He also talked about your butt. I heard him.”

Lachlan shrugged, and Sebastian nearly tumbled from his back. The kid grabbed him like a rodeo bronco, but both of them liked that. Lachlan bucked harder to toss him off.

“I don’t know why you want to be friends with girls.” Sebastian tugged on Lachlan’s hair.

“Not just any girl, little man.” Lachlan grinned at me. “This girl.”

“Oh, very nice,” I said. “Hell, I’ll pay him twenty bucks for this performance.”

“Do I get a date?”

“Nope.”

Lachlan winked. “I won’t stop chasing you, Red.”

Even though I couldn’t say it, I was happy for the distraction. I winked before leaving.

“I’d be very disappointed if you did.”

6

Lachlan

I made a lot of rookie mistakes the first few practices of training camp. Missed a couple passes. Ran the wrong routes. Let myself get taped to the goal posts for the second time.

But the worst mistake of all was missing Cole Hawthorne’s blitz during full-pad practice. He drilled my ass into the field, and I was pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes. At least I got an encore show of me and Elle in Vegas. That made the pain worth it.

I blinked on the ground, gasping. I could still breathe. That was good. Meant Cole hadn’t ripped holes through my chest on his way to Jack.

Coach Thompson blew his whistle before Cole ripped our quarterback in two, though Jack scrambled anyway, just in case The Beast forgot he had been traded to our team last season.

“Reed!”

Coach Thompson wasn’t a patient man. He grabbed my shoulder pads and hauled me to my feet.

“What the hell are you doing out there?” He yelled and accidentally spitting in my face. Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. “You realize you’re supposed to be playing football, rookie? It sure as hell doesn’t look like you understand a goddamned thing that’s happening out there!”

I jerked a thumb toward the field. Even that hurt. My entire body was one bruised and pulled muscle. My eyes hurt. My teeth hurt. My pride hurt.

I tried to explain. “I misread—”

“So you can’t block a linebacker. That’s good to know.”

“I can block—”

“If I get Carson to throw you the fucking ball, are you gonna catch it this time? Or you think you’ll bat it away again like some prissy fucked schoolgirl?”

“I thought—”

“No. You don’t think. You do what I tell you. You block who I tell you to block. You catch the balls I tell you to catch. Say yes, coach.”

The field quieted. Everyone watched. Just my luck. I gritted my teeth.

“Yes, coach.”

“We only got a six-week training camp, rookie. Start figuring out what the fuck you’re doing on my field.”

“Don’t worry about me, Coach. I got this covered.”

“You think so? Then tell me why I’m bitch-slapping our first-round draft choice after every goddamned play. What’s the problem? Is it too hot out here for you?”

“No, Coach.”

“Is it harder than you thought it’d be?”

Yes.

“No, Coach.”

“You miss playing in college?”

Certainly felt more welcoming.

“No, Coach.”

“Maybe you were hot shit on campus, rookie.