Romancing the Running Back by Jeanette Murray Page B

they both knew they had to keep an eagle eye on their teammate for any signs of slipping. Risking the wrath of the coaching staff, they both silently agreed and weaved their way over to his corner.
    “Better get up, Stephen.” Josiah snapped his towel in his friend’s direction. “Coach Jordan’s on his way in. Sitting is not going to impress him unless you’re doing some arm curls while you’re at it.”
    “Bite me.” Rather than crack a smile, Stephen let his head fall farther into his hands.
    “Shit. Tell me you’re not hungover.” Josiah crouched in front, shooting Trey a worried look over Stephen’s shoulder before trying to get a good look into their teammate’s eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
    “Enough for me to break off and feed to your dog.” Josiah debated reminding his friend he didn’t have a dog, but stayed silent. “Go away. I’m not drunk, I’m not hungover, and I’m not sick. I’m just tired. Can a guy be tired after spending his weeks getting hammered by linemen?”
    “Harrison!”
    They all jolted a little as Coach Jordan entered the weight room and raised his voice enough to be heard over the clang of weights, grunting, and the music blaring from the sound system.
    Stephen stood slowly, as if it were taking all his energy to do just that. “Yeah, Coach?”
    “My office, now.” Coach Jordan did a quick circle, taking in everyone who had stopped working out to stare. “Why is nobody working? Why are you all staring? Move!”
    Stephen walked—more like trudged—after the head coach. Josiah took a quick look at Trey, who nodded, and followed.
    Coach Talbin stopped them both at the door. “Not for you, boys.”
    “He’s ours, so it is for us,” Trey insisted.
    “Come on, Talbin. Just let us go with the guy.” Josiah took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Can’t a teammate support his friend?”
    “Back to your reps, and no cheating.” With that, the assistant coach pushed their friend out the door and closed it firmly behind him.
    “Shit,” Trey muttered. “His fake relationship is catching up with him.”
    Stephen’s sobriety was still tenuous enough that the coaching staff had asked him to have a live-in life coach during the first few months at home post-rehab. Stephen had insisted he already had accountability at home, in the form of a live-in girlfriend. The problem was . . . no girlfriend in sight. He’d hired his housekeeper to pose as his girlfriend to keep him on track and in the coaching staff’s good graces. And in the middle of keeping up appearances of a fake girlfriend, had gone and fallen in love with the woman.
    “Love is bizarre,” Josiah said, not quite understanding it all. From his perspective, it didn’t seem all that great.
    “Love is amazing,” Trey corrected, his eyes tracking over Josiah’s shoulder. “Trainers, your six o’clock. Time to get busy.”
    *   *   *
    Finished with the proposal for her newest client, Anya closed one email and opened another. She’d done her work, and now she got to play. The graphic artist she’d hired—a recommendation from Cassie, who she was sure had talked her BFF into a discount—had sent over a few mock-ups for the Chance to Dance nonprofit logo. When the email had first popped up in her in-box, she’d itched to open it, but had made herself behave and put paying work first.
    After a moment of deep breathing, she clicked, opened the attachment, and barely bit back a squeal.
    Perfect. Absolutely perfect. It was feminine without being embarrassingly girly or childish, so they could use it even after they expanded past the high school demographic. The colors were bold, but not overpowering. And most of all, the cute little dressmaker forms—a total surprise—added a whimsical touch she hadn’t thought of before.
    Cassie had no clue this was what she’d requested from the graphic artist, and Anya still wasn’t quite ready to tell her yet. Saying