Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

6. Ford

6

FORD

I sat back down in my chair and watched out the mirrored window as Mia’s driver sped away from the curb and Hayden turned to the paparazzi, waving like a pageant contestant. What a dweeb.

The valet pulled up with a bright red convertible, the top down. He flicked on his sunglasses, slipped in the driver’s seat, and sped away, tires peeling on the asphalt. I wondered what Mia saw in him. She didn’t seem like the kind of person to get blinded by fame.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I tugged it out, seeing a text from her. I knew she had my number, but this was the first time she’d used it outside of business.

Mia: I can take care of myself, you know.

My lips quirked into half a smile.

Ford: Is that why you let him waste an hour of your time looking at himself in the window?

A text bubble came up and then disappeared, and I scrubbed my hand over my mouth, far too eager to see what she’d come back with.

Mia: What are you trying to say?

My fingers tapped across the screen, letting her know.

Ford: If I was sitting across from you, I wouldn’t be looking away.

I bit my bottom lip, thinking of Mia and her straight blond hair falling just past her shoulders. Her light blue eyes that saw more than most people’s. Her curvy figure that would be so soft under my hands.

Mia: Is that so?

Now I couldn’t fight the smile. I knew flirting was a bad idea, especially since I’d sworn off a relationship. And since she was going out with another guy. So instead of responding, I asked a question of my own.

Ford: Why are you going out with pop stars?

Mia: It’s a long story.

Ford: Come back and tell me.

My stomach squirmed, caught between the desire to see her and the need to focus on my goals, but also out of desperation for this situation. Brock was right. I didn’t want to lose this game with Trent. And I may not have been looking for a relationship, but I could surely treat Mia better than Hayden French while we were “together.”

Mia: That might get the gossip rags going... What about dinner tonight?

Ford: My place?

Ford: To avoid the gossip rags.

Mia: Send me the address.

I bit my bottom lip and did as she asked, then finished my tea and left the café. I had to prep my chef for dinner before going to afternoon yoga class with the team.

If you’ve never seen a three-hundred-pound lineman do downward dog, I highly recommend it. For men who were usually so strong and powerful, they possessed an odd amount of grace. It was like seeing a bear tap dancing or a bull synchronized swimming. But every lineman on the team, as well as the rest of the players, were lined up in a gym for a yoga class led by one of the city’s top instructors.

Coach Hinkle had us do one class a week to help with mobility on the field, and he swore it helped prevent injuries. Something that could cost us a season.

I followed the instructor from the back corner of the group. My best friends, Krew and Milo, were on either side of me. Somewhere between downward dog and cobra, a memory came to mind.

I chuckled under my breath, remembering my brother Knox telling me about one of his first dates with his now wife. They hadn’t been together long when he had the idea to do goat yoga followed by dinner at a fancy farm/bed and breakfast.

The date had been going well... until a goat climbed on his back and peed all over him.

Milo, our team’s center, looked over at me from between his arms, his pale freckled face bright red. “Don’t laugh at me,” he grunted.

Krew grinned wide, his locks shifting as he turned his head to look at Milo. “Why not? You look funny as hell.”

Milo shook his head, stepping his right foot forward into warrior one. “I saw you wobbling on tree pose,” he said.

“It’s not about you,” I said, to stop their bickering. Then I whispered to them the story about goat yoga, making both of them stifle laughter.

The instructor at the front of the gym gave us a pointed look. “When your mind wanders, come back to your breath,” she said.

Not wanting to be a bad influence for the rest of the team, I focused on the flow for the rest of the class, and when we were done, the guys and I got up from our mats. I put a sweat towel around my neck and took a long drink from my Stanley—yoga was always harder than I thought it would be.

Krew chugged his water and then said, “Any plans tonight? I was thinking about catching that new movie that’s coming out.”

Milo started walking to the locker room, Krew and I on either side. Over the low hum of conversation around us, Milo said, “Mom’s making chicken and dumplings. I told her I’d be there. You know you’re both invited though.”

Krew nodded. “Yeah, I’ll come. Always up for some home cooking.”

Milo looked at me. “You in?”

I shook my head. “I’m busy tonight.”

They both stared at me, knowing I hardly had a life outside of football and my charity, especially since my family was a couple hours away. Krew finally said, “Something with the charity?”

I could feel heat blooming on my cheeks. How would I explain this?

Milo said, “If your family’s coming to town, I’m sure Mom can put a leaf in the table.”

“That’s not it,” I replied.

Now they were both really staring at me, even as we reached the locker room and went inside. Our lockers were all next to each other. I took off my shirt, tossing it in the back of the locker.

Krew hit my arm, saying, “Is there a girl?”

“There is.” I bit my bottom lip, bracing myself for their reactions. “I have a date with Mia.”