Fourth and Goal by Jami Davenport Page A

Simon sat down but whined and slobbered, a crazed look in his dilated eyes. “I've never seen him like this. I'll hold him while you go in the house. Maybe it's your cologne."
    "There's nothing wrong with my cologne.” Cradling his bag of Chinese takeout, Mitch stomped into the house.
    "Not if you're another dog.” Sliding in behind him, Rachel slammed the door in Simon's face. The obnoxious Lab scratched on the door and whined. She turned the dead bolt, not putting anything past the canine criminal.
    Mitch shot her a withering look.
    "I'm sorry. He's never reacted like that.” She covered her mouth to hide her giggle.
    "That dog is a menace to society."
    "Boy, did you hit the nail on the head."
    "He shouldn't be running around loose.” Mitch glared at the door, mouth tight, pissed as hell.
    "He also has a ball fetish and a penchant for thievery."
    "Don't forget horny and any leg will do. Put him in a kennel and throw away the key."
    Rachel almost agreed. She'd been telling Derek that for weeks. “He'll head home in a while. He comes down here when his owner is gone."
    "He's not yours?” Mitch blew out a breath. Helping himself to a plate and silverware, he dished up some Chinese food.
    "No, he belongs to—"
    "Ramsey. Figures. Same personality.” Her brother's mouth turned downward, his eyes grim.
    "It's great to see you too. Did you come to bitch or because you missed your sister?"
    "Men don't bitch."
    "No, they lecture and control."
    Mitch's expression softened a little but not much. “I'm sorry. I don't like that guy."
    "Tell me something I don't know.” Rachel helped herself to Mongolian beef and fried rice.
    Mitch shoveled food into his mouth, his answer to all things related to guilt. By now he should be bigger than a house. Instead he was almost as buff as his college days.
    She sat next to him, knowing there was a purpose to his visit and not wanting to hear it. “Thanks for bringing dinner."
    "You're welcome. I love you, sis; you know that."
    "I love you too, Mitchie.” She squeezed his arm. Her eyes watered a little. The men in her family struggled with expressing affection. She'd learned to live with it. Whenever they did say something, it shocked the hell out of her and made her all teary-eyed.
    Swallowing a mouthful, he regarded her with green eyes much like her own. Why he didn't have a girlfriend, she'd never understand. In high school and college, he'd switched girls every week. It had to be another fallout from her mother's death and her father's emotional distance.
    "What's with the clothes?” He assessed her from top to bottom and frowned. Her black slacks and powder blue shell clearly surprised him.
    "I'm changing my image."
    "You're at home."
    "It's a long story.” She sighed and wiped at a stain. She'd already spilled wine on her blouse.
    "Are you doing it for him?"
    "Not the way you're insinuating. Give me some credit."
    Mitch ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Rae, don't take this the wrong way, but did you ever consider doing something a little, well, a little more ordinary?"
    "I want a career I'm passionate about."
    "You working as a scout in professional football is crazy, Rachel. Give it up. A woman can't be effective because she's never played the game."
    "But a man can.” She bristled and stabbed an innocent piece of beef with her knife.
    He scooted his barstool out of range. “That's right. Most scouts played high school ball at least. You have to understand the team dynamics, how men think, how a guy you're scouting would fit into a certain locker room and the system. There's so much more to it than physical attributes. When you get to the pro level, everyone's physically superior. Winning becomes more mental than physical. A good scout examines the whole player. Hell, look at Ramsey. You couldn't program a computer to create a more perfect physical specimen of a wide receiver."
    "And your point is?” On the defensive, she glared at her brother.
    "He's a dismal