Page 5 of The Linebacker

The team was already practicing when she arrived. She’d be able to put off what was sure to be a very awkward greeting when she and Amil came face-to-face. She was well aware that she could not avoid him forever, but she’d be okay with a few more days. Maybe by then she would figure out how to tame her absolutely feral hormones.

Watching him sprint up and down the field, getting sweatier and sweatier, his leg muscles becoming sharper right before her eyes was certainly not helping her plight.

Damn it, why did he have to be so good in bed?

More to the point, why had the owners decided to make this trade so that he now was part of the team she worked for?

She interacted with most of the players on this team on a daily basis. She hung out with them socially. One of her besties from college, Allison Holt, was engaged to Dante Kelley, the team’s quarterback. Royce Kacey, their starting center, was engaged to Morgan Gentry, a famous actor and also one of Diana’s dearest friends. Jillian Stanton, who was married to Pedro Torres, their top offensive tackle, was also a bestie.

Not to mention the guys themselves. Broderick, Callahan, Gunner—yeah, she had a lot of friends on this team. If Amil started hanging with any of them—and get real, he would if he intended to bond with his new team—that meant she and Amil were going to hang…together.

At least there was one silver lining. Given their one-night stand was two years ago and Amil hadn’t once tried to get in touch with her since, that meant he wasn’t anything like Jalen. He wasn’t hoping for more.

Hell, he probably didn’t even remember her. While the idea stung on the surface, honestly, it was the best-case scenario.

There was a cluster of administrative folks hovering together near where the team photographer was lying on the ground behind his camera, presumably grabbing action shots of the team practicing. She could have just used some of his shots for her social media announcements, but he was protective of his photography and didn’t like to share. Which was definitely weird, because weren’t they on the same team? Wouldn’t he prefer her to use his super-awesome shots instead of her own more candid and less sharp images?

Not to mention, what was the purpose of him getting paid to take pictures if not to share with the public?

She tucked herself behind the folks who were standing there discussing Amil’s moves, Jalen’s receiving abilities, Dante’s throwing arm. Hopefully, she could hide out back here for a bit, grab a few pics, then head inside. She had Amil’s bio and the official press release that had already gone out. She could pull whatever she needed from those documents. She didn’t need to actually talk to the man to post about him on social media.

She knew how to hype the new guy. She’d been doing it for nearly six seasons. Ever since this expansion team started.

Sprints were done and the guys moved on to sit-ups while the coach counted down. She ought to move, get a close-up of Amil clenching his teeth, sweat rolling off his muscles as he kept a steady pace and showed no exhaustion whatsoever, but by the time she worked herself up to doing it, they’d moved on. Coach was splitting the guys between offense and defense and special teams.

And damn it, the quarterbacks and receivers were here on the field closest to her. She needed to move to the middle field, where the defensive players were practicing with the tackle dummies. A couple of shots of Amil beating the shit out of a tackle dummy and she could call it good and take off before practice ended and he (possibly) attempted to speak to her.

She reminded herself that he probably wouldn’t. That he viewed their tryst as exactly what it was: a one-night stand. A hell of a spectacular one, but still, a one-night stand.

Yeah, maybe they spent far more time in the wee hours talking about personal stuff than she ever had with any other guy she’d hooked up with. And it was true that, since that night, she’d thought about him far more than she was willing to admit out loud. And some of those thoughts had danced along the line of I want to hook up with him again.

Which was alarming. She didn’t go back for more.

Ever.

If Jalen hadn’t been in the lobby that fateful morning after, she was absolutely certain she would have invited Amil back upstairs for one more round.

Since he hadn’t yet left, it was still considered a one-night stand.

“No more players,” she muttered like it was a mantra.

The backup quarterback, Jeremiah Short, caught her eye as he lobbed a ball in Jalen’s direction. Wait. Jalen was over there and the ball was heading…right for the cluster of people she was standing with.

“Heads up,” Diana called out, in case they weren’t paying attention.

Everybody except the photographer moved. She heard someone say, “Oh shit!” and a split second later, Jalen was running, watching the ball, which had not been thrown anywhere near him. But he seemed determined to catch it anyway, which meant he was charging for the sideline—where the photographer was still sprawled on the ground with his camera in front of his face.

Apparently not trying to capture a shot of Jalen, since he wasn’t moving out of the way.

“Watch out,” someone shouted, but it was too late.

Jalen’s shin hit the camera and he twisted, trying to avoid trampling the photographer, who rolled, probably to avoid said trampling. Except he rolled right into Jalen’s foot, which came down on top of the guy’s knee. Jalen curled himself into a ball, which no doubt saved his own knees, and the photographer started shrieking while clutching his damaged knee.

“That can’t be good,” someone muttered nearby, but Diana was too busy watching the photographer to glance over to see who it was.

“You look good, Diana.”

Attention officially diverted. She swung around to face Amil Halsted in all his sleek, sweaty, and far, far too hot glory. Those dark unruly curls were plastered to his head. His manicured beard was still heavier and thicker than pretty much anyone else’s she’d ever dragged her fingers through.