Free Guarding the Quarterback (Champions of the Heart #1) by Liz Matis Page A

and I headed for the gaping hole that opened up like the parting of the Red Sea. It collapsed just as quickly as I was pounded from both sides by the defensive tackles. As I was about to hit the ground, short of the paint, I felt the bulk of my three-hundred-pound center, Jacobs, pushing me from behind, punching my body past the goal line and into the end zone.
    Touchdown!
    Though underneath the crushing weight of a half a ton of bodies, I didn’t feel a twinge of pain. I knew I’d feel every ache tomorrow. Right now only glory rushed through my veins as eighty thousand fans cheered. Jacobs hoisted me off the turf to inflict further damage to my person with a congratulatory shake and a clack of our helmets.
    “You can run, but you can’t hide,” shouted Dawson as I jogged by.
    “Look at the scoreboard, fuck-face.” Somewhere down the line, maybe even today, I would pay dearly for that remark.
    Coming back to the sideline, I was riding high. The celebration was quickly over as the offensive coordinator handed me the iPad so I could review the defense’s positioning and go over the plan for the next possession.
    Oslo and Williams flanked me. Something was definitely wrong. “What’s going on?”
    Oslo handed me a water bottle. “It’s under control.”
    “What’s under control?” I heard the panic in my voice and dialed it back a notch. “Is Alexa okay?”
    Williams smacked me on the shoulder pad. “She’s fine, bro. Reeves is tougher than she looks.”
    Alexa talked a good game, but what did I really know about her abilities? She acted like she was ten-foot-two instead of five-foot-two. How was I supposed to play football when she could be in danger? Why was I only thinking of her when there was a stadium full of fans, concession workers, and players?
    The crowd exploded. Panic clenched my gut, but it was just the fans’ reaction to our defense intercepting the ball. I welcomed the opportunity to be back on the field where things made sense and the real world faded away.
    After three failed downs, I trotted to the sideline to let our punter kick the ball, pissed that I’d failed to convert the turnover into points. I scanned the section where I knew the players’ girlfriends usually sat. I’d never had a girl at a game. Not even my mom, who preferred to watch from home. After I realized watching me play reminded her too much of my father, I quit inviting her. I understood, because in way, having her here would do the same thing to me. I wondered what she would think of Alexa and mentally shook the crazy thought out my head. The women I brought to my apartment weren’t the type you took home to meet mom.
    At that exact moment I spotted her and relief engulfed me. Maybe now I could get my head back in the game where it belonged. With a win we could coast into the playoffs.
    And that’s exactly what we did.
    For the most part the media loved me. I was the quotable quarterback, the one who talked trash, and I usually stuck around until all their questions were answered. Not today. Keeping the locker room interviews short and the press conference even shorter, I ducked out, anxious to find out what had happened and to see for myself that Alexa was okay.
    She was smiling, chatting with some of my teammates’ girlfriends in the VIP area. I guessed I’d worried for nothing. Yet, when I drew closer, I could see that her smile was a fake one.
    “Dean! Great game.” She walked over, mouthing, Save me .
    From what though? From a conversation with a bunch of flighty women only concerned with fashion and money or…
    “What the hell happened?” I asked in a tight whisper close to her ear.
    “Nothing.”
    She was lying. But this wasn’t the time or place for me to call her on it. I kissed her for the benefit of the others watching us. I continued the kiss for my enjoyment. Damn, she was sweet. Tasted of candy popcorn and surrender.
    From faraway I heard one woman clear her throat. Then another said, “Geez,