Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals, #3)

by Kandi Steiner

To the ones who have been strangled by the dark hand of grief, who have found the strength to stand even with its heavy boot on your chest, to those who continue to live even when it feels impossible… this one’s for you.

The least I could do with my miserable life was make his a little less hard to bear.

“I was unpacking and happened to look out my window,” she countered. “Not my fault you were shirtless playing in the dirt.” “I was pulling weeds,” I corrected. “Sorry if my abs were distracting.” Another roll of those beautiful eyes. “Should I wear a shirt from now on?” “Do whatever you want,”

His gaze seemed stuck to me until it flicked to where Mary was beside me, and he chuckled, adjusting the bags in his arms and turning for the house. When I looked back at my roommate, it was just in time to see her tuck away the two middle fingers she was flipping him.

“Anyway. Want to smoke a joint and order a pizza, or are you going to strip for our neighbors all night?” I winked. “Just trying to keep the block interesting. Pizza sounds good.”

“What made you get into training anyway?” Riley asked between bites. “Are you an athlete, too?” “Does pole dancing count?” Riley coughed a little as Giana’s eyes doubled, and I waited for it — the judgment, the instant awkwardness that I was met with most of the time when I let that little fun fact slip. “Um, hell yeah, it counts!”

“I need to build my upper body strength,” she added. “Lifting books to your face every night doesn’t count?” Riley quipped. Giana stuck her tongue out.

“Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking if I have a girlfriend, Julep Lee? Because I can save you the detective work and tell you that I don’t.” I scoffed. “Like I care.” “Seems like you might.” “Seems like they might need to order new helmets to fit your big head.” Leo coughed to cover his laugh, nudging Riley who was having that silent conversation with Giana across the table again.

It was a look that said can you believe he’s talking to us about a girl instead of football? “I’m as surprised as you are,” I admitted, shifting Joanne in my arms.

but I liked having her there, liked having someone so soft and sweet and innocent to look down at as I confessed my unfortunate stupidity.

“I cannot understand what’s going on with me, honestly,” I said, exasperated. “When I’m away from her, I’m my normal, logical self. I recognize that there is no point in even entertaining the thought of her. But when I’m around her…” I made a face, struggling for words. “It’s like she scrambles my freaking brain.

She shook her head, leaning a hip against the bottom window frame as she faced me. “It’s kind of strange, you know. That you’re a college quarterback and you like to garden.” “And you’re a college athletic trainer who likes to pole dance.”

“Jeez, you ran over here barefoot?” “Did you just say jeez?” she shot back, ignoring my assessment. “Don’t change the subject.” “Like I said, I was poling.” “I’m surprised you didn’t run over here in heels, then.” “I wish I had so I could take them off and gouge your eyes out with them, perv.”

“What got you into pole?” I asked. “My future dreams of being a stripper, of course.” I honestly thought she was serious, and I nodded appreciatively. “That’s cool. Seems like a really difficult career. I feel like you need to have thick skin to do it, put up with the asshole clients and the club owners stealing your wages.” Julep blinked at me. “You idiot, I was joking.” “How am I supposed to know?! You have the same expression for everything.”

“Hello, QB1,” she purred. That one little greeting set my whole body blazing. “Hello, Polerina,”

“Try me,” I said. “Tell me something real.” “Something real?” I nodded. Holden’s eyes flicked between mine, his tongue swiping out to wet his bottom lip just marginally before he turned toward me just as earnestly. “Okay,” he said, and then he leaned in close, jaw set. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since the moment you walked through that door tonight.” My breath hitched.

“Stop trying to laugh me off,” he said, voice reverberating through my ribcage. “And look at me when I tell you how enamorating you are.” “That’s not a word.” “It is now,” he argued. “And it was made for you.”

“You want to hang out with me, Polerina?”

“I use it. I hang the art on my walls, polish the vases and fill them with flowers, line my cabinets with old glassware and dishes, stuff my closet full of gently used clothes.” I shrugged. “There’s already so much stuff in the world. Why buy something new when you can have something with memories attached to it, something with history? Every single thing you see here has a story.” I picked up an old, worn, heavily read edition of The Feminine Mystique. “It has character.”

“Oh, that would be a lovely piece for a couple,” Geraldine said as she brushed past us with an arm full of blankets. She tilted a chin up at the orange, yellow, and white casserole dish Holden still touched. “It was my grandmother’s. She and grandpa were married for sixty-two years. I’d keep it if we didn’t already have so many.” Holden pulled his hand back. “Oh, we’re not—” “Ten bucks?” I interrupted. Geraldine looked at Holden, then at me, a knowing grin spreading on her weathered face as she winked at me. “Deal.”

That ghost I’d seen in her eyes since the first time I met her, I knew what it was now. It was the same as mine.

She’s worked her ass off to climb out of the pits of hell.”

And I was proud. I was proud — God, when was the last time I’d felt that? I couldn’t remember a time outside of unlocking a new trick in pole. The studio or my living room with that chrome lover were about the only times I felt good. Until recently.

“I made muffins,” I said stupidly, holding up the tray. “Thought there might be some hungry football players here who could help me eat them.” “Oh, you have come to the right place, cariño,” he said, taking the tray out of my hands.

“God, will you just…” Holden fisted his hands, shaking them as frustration colored his face red. “Shut up?!” I all but growled as I crossed the space between us and pressed my chest to his, nearly knocking his chin with my own. “Make me.”

“Can I say something mushy without you punching me?”

“You look like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin,” Riley said in the Uber on the way to the bar. I blinked, turning from where I’d been watching the city lights blur past. “I kind of feel like I already have,” I admitted. Giana frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean… I’m not feeling like myself lately.”