Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Two

T he loss was one Cutter Hernandez would deem a good loss, though he doubted any of the players would agree. Yes, he wanted the team to win. He always wanted a victory, but as a member of the Troopers’ medical team, his primary concern was that no one was seriously injured during the game.

Mission accomplished. The team might have ended up on the wrong side of the scoreline, but it avoided injury. That made for an easy night for Cutter, and when his boss, the team’s lead doctor, Rosaria Jiminez, invited him and the rest of staff out for drinks at the craft brewery her brother-in-law owned, Cutter was happy to accept. He liked the beer, he liked the atmosphere, and besides, his family’s food truck was selling there tonight.

Good food, good beer, good company. It made for a good night all around, even if he expected the mood of the players would be somber.

The place was crowded when he walked in with Doc Rosie and Neal, one of the other athletic trainers. He noticed Rosie’s wife, Margie, behind the bar serving pints. It wasn’t too unusual for her to be helping out. Hand Wing Brewing was a family business much like Hernandez Taqueria was. Cutter might have another job, but if his family needed help with the food truck, he was always happy to offer it.

Cutter knew it wouldn’t be long before some of the Troopers players arrived, and he selfishly hoped Rye might be among them, though even if he was, the kicker wouldn’t be alone. No. He’d have his supermodel fiancée on his arm. On second thought, Cutter didn’t want to see Rye there. It was just his luck. The Troopers roster boasted a number of gay players, and Cutter had to develop a crush on one of the straight ones.

He headed up to the bar, falling in step behind Rosie, studying the electronic sign that displayed the brewery’s menu of handcrafted ales as well as sodas.

“I’ll have the Gose,” Rosie said to her wife. “And a kiss, too.”

“All right, but only because you’re cute.” Margie leaned across to give Rosie a peck on the lips, earning a few whistles from other patrons.

“Do I get one of those, too?” Cutter teased.

Margie laughed. “Ha. Funny guy. You’re cute, too, but you’re not my type, and I know I’m not yours.” She turned around and got to work filling a glass with Rosie’s beer.

“I’ll have the Mexican lager with a lime when you get a chance,” Cutter told her.

“You got it.”

“Matt put you to work tonight, huh?” Rosie asked Margie.

“Yeah, with Dallas playing tonight, we’re expecting to be slammed.” She set Rosie’s beer on the bar and got to work pouring Cutter’s. “It’s a good problem to have, though.”

“Hopefully it’ll be a crowd that’s hungry for tacos, too,” Cutter said. It was his parents’ dream to one day elevate Hernandez Taqueria from a food truck to a brick and mortar restaurant. Cutter wished he could be more help in financing their dream, but his student loan payments took a large chunk of his salary. Still, the life his family had built in Austin was far better than what they had in Mexico.

He took the glass Margie handed him. “Thanks. Go ahead and start a tab for me.”

“I will, but the first one’s on the house,” Margie said. “You’re practically family.”

Cutter shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll make sure to get you a few tacos to even things out.”

Margie grinned. “Deal,” she said, before turning her attention to Neal.

“I like her,” Cutter said to Rosie as they made their way to a table. “You should keep her.”

The doctor laughed. “Don’t worry. I intend to. I know a good thing when I have it.”

They were lucky to find a high-top table with a view of one of the TVs so they could watch Dallas take on New York. Cutter set his drink down as Neal made his way over to join them. “I’m going out to say hi to the familia ,” he said. “I’ll grab tacos for all of us.”

“I like hanging out with you two,” Neal observed. “I get discounts on food and beer.”

“You joined a good team, for sure,” Cutter told him.

He went out the side door to where the food truck was set up in the back lot, happy to see that there was a line of people waiting to be served. Cutter didn’t mind the wait because it meant business was good.

“The fried catfish tacos are the best in town,” he heard one person observe. “I could eat them every day.”

Cutter hoped his sister Leticia heard the comment. After all, she was the one who lobbied hard to include fish tacos on the menu alongside the more traditional tacos. Their father had balked at the idea, but Leticia wouldn’t be dissuaded, insisting that if they were to serve a wide audience, the menu needed to include more Americanized fare as well. So far, it appeared his sister was right.

Two more people placed their orders and moved out of the way to wait for their food, allowing Cutter to step forward.

“ Hola, hermano ,” Leticia greeted him. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it tonight, given the loss.”

Cutter gave a shrug. “Hey, I don’t play. I only treat the injuries of the guys who do.”

“I know, but your stud kicker... he did not have such a good game.”

Self-consciously, Cutter looked around, wondering who might be in earshot of her remark, even if it was silly to be concerned. The comment was innocent enough. Still, his sister was the only one in the family who knew he liked guys. If their father ever found out, he might have a stroke. Meanwhile, their mother would clutch her rosary beads and mutter under her breath for him to be saved.

“It’s not his fault. The hold was off.”

“That’s loyalty right there.” Leticia smiled. “It’s sometimes a fine line with delusional.”

Cutter knew the teasing was well-intentioned, but he wasn’t in the mood. Nor did he want to hold up the line. “Knock it off, Leti. I just want to order some tacos.”

“Then you came to the right place.” She held up her notepad and pen, suddenly all business. “What are you having tonight? Are you here by yourself, or did you bring a date?”

“Not unless you count Neal and Rosie as dates,” he said. “Oh, and I’m ordering for Margie, too. She’s busy at the bar. I know she loves the catfish tacos, though.”

“Smart woman. Your usual?”

Cutter nodded. “Yes. Carne asada. Corn tortillas. Chicken tinga for the doc. And let’s do the bean and cheese for Neal. He’s from the northeast, where they don’t understand Mexican food. Plus, I think he’s vegetarian.”

“A total waste in Texas, but all right. Coming up.”

Cutter handed her his debit card.

“You know you don’t have to pay, brother.” Still, she took it from him and tapped it on the portable card reader.

“Hey, I want the family dream to come true, too. The least I can do is pay for tacos for my hungry colleagues.” He took his card back. “Thanks, Leti,” he added before moving off to the side to await his food and allow the next person in line to order.

The food took a while, and Cutter hoped his beer wouldn’t be warm by the time he got back to the table. “Food for the hungry masses,” he announced, setting the tacos on the table. As he did, he cast his gaze to the door, where several of the Troopers players had walked in. Despite the loss, they were greeted with cheers.

Cutter spotted Addison and Callum, as well as Logan and Coop. There was no sign of Rye, though, or his arm appendage, aka fiancée. Just as well. Cutter didn’t want to watch the buxom blonde hang all over Rye.

“Is there anyone in particular you’re looking for?” Rosie asked, and Cutter was quick to shake his head.

His boss was cool and understanding. She knew the difficulties of being Latina and gay because she lived them every day. That didn’t mean Cutter could open up to her about his own love lie, though, and especially not his crush on the team’s kicker. There was no way that could ever end well, anyway.

“Not at all.” He handed Rosie the order of catfish tacos. “These are for your woman. I’d offer to deliver them to her, but then she might want to kiss me. Better you have the honors.”