Page 27 of Ruff and Tumble

He was well aware that he wasn’t out curing cancer or reversing climate change—that his value to the world lay in his ability to throw a ball with unerring accuracy. He didn’t need Hailey to remind him.

For some reason, hearing it from her seemed so much worse.

“You caught me,” he said. “It’s ridiculous, I know, but we can’t spend another year getting so close only to lose at the last minute. As the last six years have proven, you’ve got luck on your side—and even better, you have theappearanceof luck. When it comes to my team, that’s just as valuable as the real deal. A few smiles, a few photo ops, and they can break this thing. I know it.”

And then maybe, just maybe, he could sit down and have a serious conversation about retiring. A Kickoff Cup win wouldn’t change anything fundamental, but it would give him leverage. He could depart on a career high, leave his team with something to carry them through the years ahead.

Give his parents something to be proud of.

“Couldn’t you, like, sacrifice a goat or something?” Hailey asked.

His laugh escaped before he could stop it. “I’d rather sacrifice something a little less bloody, if that’s all right with you.”

He took a step toward her, careful not to jostle the puppy that sat panting at his feet. Unable to fight the sudden impulse, he reached out and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He even went so far as to allow his hand to linger, the silky-smooth strands sliding through his touch, the warm and rapid beat of her pulse evident under his fingertips.

“There must be something I can do for you in return,” he said, his voice low. “Something you want. Something only I can provide.”

Hailey’s breath hitched and her whole body trembled, but she didn’t take the bait. “I already told you what you have to do,” she said with a nod toward their feet. “Take Philip home. Feed him. Love him. It’s only a month, and it will make a huge difference to his quality of life. It’s why I asked you to come all this way.”

Cole glanced down at the animal in question, trying to decide whether he was insulted or intrigued by Hailey’s determination to make him take this dog home. There were hundreds of things she might have asked him for instead: money, fame, success,sex.

She asked for none of them. She hadn’t even taken home the signed photo he’d had Regina set aside for her yesterday. He couldn’t understand it. There was no denying that Hailey was a fan of the Lumberjacks or of him. From the things his family had said, she knew her shit when it came to his team—better, probably, than anyone who didn’t share his blood. And this thing he was offering her, free publicity for the Puppy Cup, was obviously something she was willing to accept on behalf of her career.

But that was it. That was where the exchange stopped, where Hailey’s admiration came to an end. Cole had the sinking feeling that although she appreciated him as an athlete, she didn’t think much of him as a man.

“Take Philip home,” he repeated carefully.

She nodded.

“Feed him.”

She nodded again.

“Love him.”

He didn’t wait for her nod this time. Instead, he reached down and tucked the puppy under one arm in the same football hold he’d used to carry Mia. It took a lot more of his strength than he cared to admit to keep Philip there, but he managed the same way he always did.

With grit and determination and a desperate wish that he could just once admit he didn’t have nearly as much of his shit together as the world believed.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.AndI’ll take this little guy for my team. Look at him wriggle. He’s got fight in him. He’ll make an excellent offensive tackle.”

An exasperated sigh escaped her. “For the last time, we don’t pick teams. Or assign positions, for that matter. They’repuppies. We just let them run around for a while.”

“As long as we let them run in my favor, I don’t care how we play it,” he said. “But for the record, you never want to lead your pick with an OT. Or a kicker, but don’t tell Johnson I said that. He got us six points yesterday. He’s feeling a little smug.”

“Cole!” Hailey released a shaky laugh. “It’s not real football. It’s literally a patch of Astroturf with puppies and chew toys. We film them for like forty hours in hopes of whittling it down to thirty minutes of play time. You’ve seen the Puppy Cup before, right?”

“Well, no,” he admitted. “I’m usually busy during the game. Sorry.”

Cole took advantage of Hailey’s momentary discomfiture to set Philip on the ground and watch as the puppy took off after a bird that landed on the edge of the yard, his leash dragging behind him. If history planned on repeating itself, Cole had about ten seconds before Hailey recovered and gave him his own back again, and he didn’t intend to waste them.

“That dog has good speed,” he said with a nod. “Not to mention good form and lots of energy, but I feel like he could be easily distracted. Are you writing this down?”

“Of course I’m not writing it down.”

“Fine.” Cole made a big show of reaching for his phone and pulling it out. He snapped a quick photo of Philip, who was barking excitedly at the bird, before turning on the record function.

“Philip the pit bull,” he said in a loud, careful voice. “Five months old and—what was it you said?—abandoned next to a tree. Good speed and strength, but he can’t even scare that bird on the fence away. Final assessment: All bark. No bite.”