Page 17 of Hometown Halftime

Kinsey

I spent the entire drive home replaying the moment my hand fully cupped Riley Weston’s dick in the middle of Gordy’s Bar and Grill.

Not brushed or accidentally bumped. Nope. I committed to it. Full palm, Olympic-level dick-touching commitment.

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I groan at the memory.

“Oh my God.”

Embarrassment fills me all over again as the memory replays in crystal-clear detail. The spilled beer then the way I panicked. And then the grand finale of me aggressively patting his jeans like I was performing CPR on his zipper.

I slap a hand over my face at the red light.

“I need to stop putting myself in situations with Riley’s dick,” I whisper into my empty car.

The thought crosses my mind that Haddie was present. I sincerely hope she was too distracted with her niece being there. One mildly traumatic interaction with an attractive man and suddenly I could be one Haddie Carmichael Facebook post away from becoming local folklore.

Kinsey Malone gropes Assistant Coach with bar towel!

Brynn would absolutely print the post and frame it.

And the worst part? Riley handled the whole thing so well. He laughed and teased me. Then he smiled at me with those warm eyes and that stupidly handsome face.

Pulling into the small parking lot by my building, I decide I need to wash this day off and reset my brain.

I kick off my boots by the door and peel off my Gordy’s T-shirt as I walk to my bedroom, leaving it in the hamper. All I want is a hot shower, a smutty book, and my bed.

I turn on the water, wait for the steam to rise, and step inside. The first hit of heat rolls over my shoulders, loosening muscles I didn’t even realize were tight. I close my eyes, tipping my head back, letting the whole day rinse off.

At that moment, a sharp, unexpected jolt shoots down my left leg—quick, like someone snapped a rubber band against a nerve.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, placing my hand to the tile for balance.

It passes almost as fast as it came, leaving a faint echo behind. Not enough pain to knock me down, but enough to make my heart punch against my ribs.

I stand there, water sliding over my skin, trying to assess what exactly just happened. Maybe I stepped weird or I’m sore from bending over all day. Bodies do strange things.

Still…it’s new. And I don’t like the word new when it comes to pain.

I straighten carefully, testing my weight on both legs. The discomfort lingers, but more like a warning than a full-blown problem.

“Great,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my thigh. “Add that to the list.”

It feels easy to shrug it off. I’ve had aches and pains before—rugby players collect them like merit badges. But there’s something about the way this pain came out of nowhere that prickles under my skin.

I shake my head, letting the water pound between my shoulder blades. It was a long day. I’m tired and my body’s allowed to complain. And that’s all this is.

Chapter eight

Riley

When I arrive at Wednesday’s practice, the team is already louder than half the sports programs at Cedar Falls High. I hear them before I see them—shoes thudding on the bleachers, backpacks hitting the ground, a chorus of voices trying to out-talk one another. The field feels different today, charged in a way only a new team can pull off.

Kinsey’s already on the field when I walk up. She stands with one foot braced on a ball, staring at her clipboard. It’s warm this afternoon, and she’s wearing a Cedar Falls rugby shirt with short sleeves, which exposes ink I somehow missed in our few interactions with the long sleeves and hoodies she wore.

Black and grey vines with blue flowers twist down her arm. Precise, feminine lines and vibrant colors that fit her so well. My brain stalls for a moment. I’m around athletes with tattoos all the time, but hers…they look thoughtful, like they might be something personal.

She glances over her shoulder at me, unaware that I’ve just been detoured by her skin.