Romancing the Running Back by Jeanette Murray Page A

what your problem . . . oh. No. Cassie, no.”
    Cassie rolled her head to the side to stare at her with one eye.
    Adopting her best stern face—which sucked on a good day—Anya stared at her best friend. “Don’t even think about it.”
    “Think about what?” The innocent routine was pathetic, at best.
    “Don’t even think about trying to play matchmaker. It’s not cute. We’re not in high school, and I’m not looking for a date to the prom. Plus, you sucked as a matchmaker back then, and I can’t imagine your luck would run any hotter now, if you think Josiah and I are meant to be.”
    “I didn’t say ‘meant to be.’ Just, you know, maybe you would complement each other.”
    “Complement each other? Ha!” Warming up now, Anya let her tote bag slam to the counter and got her own bottle of water, scowling at the cucumber staring at her from the crisper drawer. “Forget complementing each other. We can barely be civil to each other. And you want to talk about complementing . . .” She snorted. “He wants nothing to do with me. He couldn’t say something nice to me if he had a script from Nicholas Sparks at his disposal. He hates me.”
    “Hate? No way.”
    “Fine. He disdains me. He thinks I’m an idiot who does nothing but dream about pretty shiny things. Like . . . like . . . like some raccoon or something. And because he’s all . . . all . . .” She made a muffled shriek and waved her hands around, then slammed the bottle on the counter. “All noble and good-causey, he’s such a better person than me. He’s elevated. He’sevolved. He’s, he’s . . . Jesus!”
    Cassie blinked at that. “Wh . . . I’m sorry, what? He called himself Jesus?”
    “No! Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”
    “I think ‘stupid’ has a place in this conversation, and it’s not on my side of the counter,” Cassie said dryly.
    “He thinks I’m shallow.”
    “And I’m sure you did nothing to disabuse him of that.”
    “It’s not my job to make him think about me any way.” But of course, she had to be honest, because otherwise Cassie would know, anyway. “I mean, I might have played up the helpless, stupid fashionista a little, but that was only
after
he came up with the conclusion on his own. If that’s how he thinks of me, so be it.”
    “Anya,” Cassie moaned, letting her head fall into her arms. “I wasn’t trying to make your life more difficult, but really. Did you have to?”
    “He was asking for it,” she replied hotly. “Judging me prematurely.”
    “Like you judged him with that ‘Save the Whales’ retort earlier.”
    Bull’s-eye. Face flushed red-hot from the direct hit, Anya turned and grabbed her bag on the way out. “I don’t need help with my love life.”
    “You don’t
have
a love life,” Cassie called out at her from the kitchen.
    “And for good reason!” Anya shouted back, tromping up the stairs.

Chapter Seven
    One game, and one wedding outing with Anya down. In Josiah’s mind, they ranked about equal in energy expended.
    As he walked into the weight room Tuesday morning, he bumped into Trey. “Coach Jordan is coming,” his friend muttered under his breath. “Batten down the hatches.”
    It was a rare day when the head coach—and Trey’s soon-to-be father-in-law—made it down to the weight room. He reserved his time for the practice field and team meetings, normally. That was enough to put an extra hop in Josiah’s step, and he hustled into the weight room to get started on his routine. But from the corner of his eye, he caught Stephen, sitting down on an unused bench, just staring at the floor. Josiah elbowed Trey and motioned over toward their friend.
    “Aw, shit,” Trey muttered. “Normally, I’d say let him work it out, but . . .”
    Yeah, the “but” was important. Stephen was still early in the stages of alcoholism recovery. Where a normal guy might have a rough day and settle into a funk he would pull out of eventually,