Once Upon A Half-Time: A Sports Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,9

“We should talk.”

The camera lowered. She wove a hand through her hair, twisting one of the red locks over her finger.

Why did that look so familiar?

“Lachlan…I’m not the kind of girl you think I am.”

“The one I’m spending the rest of my life with?”

“Not even close.” She shook her head. “I’m not someone who spends a weekend with a complete stranger, indulging in hour after hour of remorseless, anonymous sex.”

“Good thing we’re not strangers anymore,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not that type, Lachlan…at least, not without copious amounts of alcohol.”

“Then drop the camera and grab a bottle of wine, cause I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

“I know I never said goodbye.” She took a breath. “And I never thanked you for the weekend. It was more fun than either of us should have had.”

“I’m the gift that keeps on giving, Red. Go out with me again so we can talk when I’m not…” I gave a tug. “Indulging the team’s traditions.”

Elle ripped a piece of tape from my shoulders. She hesitated, as if considering helping me escape. But that fantasy was too good to be true. She patted the tape over my mouth without the decency of a kiss first.

“Shh. It was a one-time thing, Lachlan. Not a mistake, but it wasn’t anything that can happen again. We’re working together now. I’m not on the field getting my head crushed by linebackers, but we have to see each other. A lot. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it already is.”

I laughed. The sound muffled in the tape, but she wouldn’t have listened even if I yelled it.

Jesus, she didn’t remember anything from our weekend.

Wow.

Well…it would be an awkward conversation when she finally decided to talk.

And a major life revelation.

Wouldn’t she be surprised.

Elle stepped away, taking one last picture. “Start at your ankles. The tape’s a little loose down there.”

I nodded, but she didn’t stay to watch the fun as I shredded through the tape.

I should have followed. Should have run after her. Shouldn’t have let her leave without telling her the truth and demanding another dinner, another night, another morning with her.

Elle thought our story had ended?

Hell no. Our fairy-tale was only beginning.

3

Elle

The sweltering summer afternoon was made hotter because Lachlan Reed was on the field.

I was starting my fourth season with the Rivets, and I’d never once gone boy-crazy. Most of the guys weren’t my type, some were already married, and the others were notorious bad boys. To protect my career, the closest I ever got to the players was through a four hundred millimeter lens.

Except this training camp was different.

It was like Lachlan stuffed a magnet down his jock strap. I’d tried to keep busy, but I crept further onto the field, parking my butt in the middle of the wide-receivers’ routes as I searched for him. I wasn’t very subtle. Even surreptitiously capturing pictures of the rookie tight-end twenty-yards away got me into trouble.

“You’re open, Elle!” Caleb shouted to me from across the field.

I peeked through the viewfinder in time to see three footballs spiraling through the air, aimed dead center for my forehead.

With a camera in hand, humiliation was always closer than it appeared.

I ducked, twisted, and collapsed to the grass before the balls plunked around me, much to the delight of the offensive line.

Jack and his two backups laughed. They reared back again, and, like some medieval general loading the catapults, Jack aimed for me.

“Fire!”

I pointed the camera and got the shot of Jack mid-release, his arm flexed and the ball just out of the frame. That gave me no time to hide. I spun. The ball spiraled right into my ass, and the dull thunk of pig-skin against my skin would entertain the men for the remainder of the day.

I could expect some great lunch-time conversation about the imbedded league logo that probably bruised my butt.

At least Jack’s photo would look good uploaded onto Instagram. He wagged another ball. Just fortunate it was regulation and not the Play-Maker’s special duo.

“Okay, okay!” I surrendered my spot. “I’m done.”

I lied. I snapped one more and hurried away. Uploading some of my morning pictures was a good excuse to duck back into the air-conditioned practice facility…if I didn’t melt on the way in first. The sun scorched the team. I chugged water, but the sweat poured off of me. I twisted my damp hair into a bun and surveyed the field for any other promising shots.

Peter, as head photographer, followed Coach