Sittingin the diner down the street from my house, Bo ordered for the both of us without missing a beat.
The server nodded with a sweet smile. “I’ll put that in and be right back with your coffees.”
“You remembered.”
He grabbed my hand and stared at me with his thoughtful eyes. “I could never forget a single detail about you.”
I looked up at the big clock on the far wall: it was only eight in the morning. “I cannot believe I woke up so freaking early this morning.”
Bo chuckled a little, putting sweetener in his coffee. “I can’t believe I slept in. We’ve been doing two-a-days for a month now.”
“Then why aren’t you weightlifting by now?” I slurped down the amazing diner coffee, hoping Bo wasn’t going to have to bolt on me.
He shrugged. “Even the quarterback gets a day off every once in a while. I do have to head in for a meeting after we finish up here.”
I frowned a little. I felt like the fairytale was going to end as soon as we left the diner.
“Are you nervous?”
“About what?” Bo leaned back in the booth to stretch out. His muscles were gorgeous even under his V-neck, and his sleeve tattoos were even sexier than I had remembered.
I doused my eggs with hot sauce. “About the first game this Sunday?”
Bo took a sharp breath in. “I feel like I should be, but I’m not. All I can do is go out there and play like I always have. Give it my best. That’s it.”
“I guess it helps that is it only a preseason game.”
He nodded while chomping on a sausage link. “You got that right.” Bo’s phone lit up and started vibrating across the table. “Sorry, it’s the coach.”
I nodded and continued to eat my breakfast. As Bo’s conversation continued, my heart sank more and more.
“No sir, I have not been on Twitter today.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Bo palmed the table, gritting his teeth.
“No, I am not screwing around with a photographer for our team.”
His eyes got wide as he listened to his coach yell at him some more. By the time they ended the call, Bo’s face was beat red and he refused to make eye contact with me. He just sat there silently, searching the internet for whatever or whoever had blasted our rekindling all over social media.
In a low voice, Bo growled, “‘Home wrecking Hogs photog caught red-handed with our new rookie quarterback.’ There’s even a picture of us leaving your house this morning. When were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know how to just say ‘hey, we’re going to be working together’.”
He slid a little farther into the booth. “Now everyone is going to brand you a whore and me a douchebag because I am supposed to still be engaged to Zara.”
“This is not my fault Bo. You’re the one that brought me home from Vixens that night and askedmeout on a date.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and threw a c-note onto the table. “We have to head in for a meeting and then a press conference. Now.”
His tone bit through me as I followed him out of the diner. “What do you mean, we?”
“Coach is pissed and he wants to talk to you, too.”