Calling the Play Read Free Page B

and sneakers. Ty peered at the top of her head. “Yep. I can see it shining in the light.” He looked back down and met her stare. “I can help you wash that out.”
    “You got a thing for washing hair?” she asked with a laugh. “I’ve sure got enough of it.”
    “I’ve got a thing for you,” he said straight-faced.
    “All right, player,” she joked. She couldn’t believe he was the actual quarterback for the Rebels. An NFL star. Standing here next to her and offering to wash her hair. She was struck again by how bizarre it was. There was no other word for it. She could tell he was a smooth talker used to getting his share of pussy, that was for sure.
    “Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not a player. At least, not like that.”
    She stole a quick, startled look at him. Damn if he hadn’t read her mind. “Not what I hear,” she said, vaguely recalling some stories about his wild life off the field.
    “I cannot deny that I am very good in bed,” he admitted ruefully, “and have had lots of practice at it. But I’ve grown a little bit more discerning about who gets to find that out live and in person.”
    “You had me at very good in bed,” she told him.
    “Oh, sweet thing, I am definitely going to have you very good,” he told her softly. His stare was hot as fuck, and Randi was wet just looking at him. He was like some surfer wet dream with that sun-bleached-blond, curly hair and those blue, blue eyes. And a body to die for. Truth be told, she didn’t care if he was a player. She didn’t do more than one or two nights with a guy, anyway. The money, the fame, the whole football life, whatever. She just wanted to suck his dick and fuck him until she couldn’t walk. Her needs were simple.
    “Let’s go,” she said, reaching out a hand for him.
    “Ty?”
    Randi turned toward the guy who’d spoken, stepping in front of Ty to shield him. The man facing them on the front walkway was short, maybe a little taller than her, but not by much. Sort of nondescript, with short, brown hair and a pleasant face. His nose was long and thin, making his eyes look big and wide and pretty. She immediately readjusted her initial impression of a pleasant face to an arresting one. He was muscular in his white T-shirt and dark shorts, but not like Ty. Like an average Joe who hit the gym regularly. His voice was hesitant, not like he didn’t know Ty, but as if he didn’t know if Ty knew him. Randi’s cop training told her all that in the blink of an eye. Ty’s reaction told her more.
    “Brian?” Ty sounded like he’d been punched in the gut. “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m the new quarterback coach,” Brian said. “The cops called the front office and the front office called me.”
    “No you are fucking not,” Ty said, suddenly angry. He straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “No one told me.”
    “So I gathered,” Brian said. He looked at the Porsche and Randi could see how pale his face was. His lips were thin and colorless. “Yours?” he asked.
    “Yeah,” Ty said belligerently.
    “Jesus, Ty,” Brian said, leaning his back against the wall as if he were suddenly incapable of standing on his own, while he continued to stare at the car. “I thought you’d changed.”
    “I have,” Ty said. He grabbed Randi’s hand. “I don’t need you anymore.” He glanced at her. “Let’s go.” Without looking at Brian, he pulled her down the sidewalk. “You can tell the front office I’m fine,” he said to Brian as they walked past him.
    “My place?” Randi asked, not really caring to find out the story between these two. Tonight Ty was hers. She needed a good fuck to work off the adrenaline and to forget Tater Sullivan’s hands all over her. She guessed they both had baggage. Tomorrow she’d deal with the fallout from tonight’s events, but for now she was all about forgetting everything in Ty’s arms.
    —
    “I wasn’t expecting a house,” Ty said,