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drink off the small table in front of her. She folded the
used napkin into a tidy little square and placed it under the
glass.
“Are you blind? They can’t hold the Giants
off all day. He’s taking too long and not finding the open
receiver.”
“Brett’s doing as good a job as can be
expected. He didn’t have the luxury of weeks of training camp to
get in sync with his guys. It takes time, and he’ll get there. He’s
determined, and he has what it takes.” She ignored her sister’s
dissecting gaze. As Estie spoke a Giants linebacker flushed Brett
out of the pocket and sacked him for another big loss.
And it didn’t get much better after
that.
The Jacks lost twenty-four to seven. Their
record was now nine and five. One more loss, and it’d be tough for
them to win the division or get home-field advantage, leaving them
battling for a wildcard berth.
After the game Estie shook off her sister
and wandered down to the locker room, slipping past security
because she was Tyler’s sister. She told herself she was only doing
it to update Ty’s teammates, but who was she fooling?
One by one the guys left the locker room,
pausing to chat with her about Ty. Several promised to stop by and
see him. She’d just about given up when Brett came out of the
locker room, his sandy brown hair wet from a recent shower and a
grim expression plastered on his face.
“Hey,” she said, stepping from the
shadows.
He glanced up, and surprise crossed his
features, then a smile, a very happy smile. He looked glad to see
her. “Hey.”
Estie found herself smiling back. “Rough
game.” What else do you say to a guy whose quarterback rating
looked more like an Arctic temperature?
“Yeah, pretty rough. We’ll figure it
out.”
“You’re doing the best you can. You haven’t
played since preseason, and my brother’s been the ironman of the
NFL, so it’s not like you get many chances.”
Brett rubbed the back of his neck and
nodded. “Yeah, I know. I have to get better, quit making rookie
mistakes like missing my reads, not seeing open men, screwing up a
handoff.”
Estie touched his arm, a gesture meant to
comfort, but instead it shot a shock of electricity through her
body, a hyperawareness of the very male man standing next to her.
Their eyes met, held, and for a moment time stopped, the world fell
away, and left only the two of them.
If they’d been standing in the middle of I-5
during rush hour, she wouldn’t have noticed the cars zipping by or
honking at them.
She sensed his steel hiding under a thin
layer of frustration. It was weird, this connection, like a thin
piece of thread, so easy to break, so tenuous, yet so there.
Estie took a step back and broke the thread.
She blinked several times in an attempt to process what just
happened. She was practical, not given to romance or nonsense.
Brett looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit she’d
noticed when he seemed nervous or contemplating something.
“How about we forget football for a while
and get something to eat? I’m starved and I bet you are, too.”
Estie said the last words in a rush because if she paused for a
breath it’d give her time to think about how stupid she was for
asking.
Brett hesitated for a split second. “Sounds
great.” His crooked smile nudged at her heart. “I’d like that.”
Oh, so would she. So would she.
* * * * *
Brett followed Estie into a dark, little
Italian restaurant several streets up from Seattle’s waterfront.
Holding the door open for her, he paused inside and glanced around
the room for any angry Jacks fans who might ruin the one good thing
about this day—being with Estie.
An older couple enjoying a glass of wine sat
at the only occupied table. The lone waiter ushered them to an
intimate table in the back. Around the cozy room, candles
flickered, making it way too romantic for a couple who should be
anything but.
They consulted and agreed on a bottle of
wine, and as was becoming par for the