Love on the Sidelines: A Quick Snap Novella Read online

  Love on the Sidelines

  A QUICK SNAP NOVELLA

  Tarrah Anders

  Contents

  Love on the Sidelines

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Quick Snap: Championship Edition Novellas

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Tarrah Anders

  Connect Online

  Love on the Sidelines

  A QUICK SNAP NOVELLA

  BY TARRAH ANDERS

  LOVE ON THE SIDELINES

  A QUICK SNAP NOVELLA

  TARRAH ANDERS

  Copyright © 2020 by TARRAH ANDERS

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect are appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design: Kari March Designs

  Published by: Lady Boss Press, Inc.

  Created with Vellum

  I dedicate this to Kristen Proby. Without the opportunity, mentorship, grace and friendliness she has, many authors would not get a chance to be a part of her amazing worlds.

  Chapter 1

  TOPHER

  I watch her stick her pointer finger in her mouth and drag it out. The move is so simple, yet so damn sexy. She presses her lips together then tightens her ponytail.

  She runs her hands down the front of her royal blue blazer and pulls her shoulders back. This move pushes her chest out and I’m not minding. She does all this without a care in the world and as if no one is watching.

  But I am.

  Every game this season, my eyes have searched for her. She’s stood on the field excited during fast plays and paying attention to the game as if she likes it.

  She is Mila Rossi, the hottest sideline sports reporter that I’ve seen in quite a while. I’ve watched her commentary, and she knows the game.

  It’s impressive.

  She looks familiar, aside from the fact I’ve watched her on television and on the sidelines. I get an inkling that I know her from somewhere aside the stadiums up and down the coast, but I can’t quite figure out where.

  “Coach? Coach? Earth to coach? Woo hoo, anyone in there?” Grant Toolson, our defensive cornerback, waves his hand in front of my face, distracting me from Mila.

  I blink and focus on his face. “What’s up, Toolson?”

  “Whatcha looking at?” He asks with a grin.

  “None of your business, get your ass warmed up,” I tell him, shifting my clipboard to the other hand and straightening.

  “Yeah, uh huh. You’re checking out Rossi, aren’t you? She’s single, you know.” He teases.

  “We’re not talking about this.” I shake my head, eyes forward, and bite the inside of my cheek with that knowledge.

  “She’s also totally into football, she interviewed me before, and she knew actual plays and everything.”

  “Toolson, we’re not discussing this. Eyes forward, this is the championship game. No distractions.”

  “Yes, Coach,” he says obediently.

  Time goes in slow motion as we move through plays. Every second counts right now. If we win the championship, we’re bound for the big game and I get to tick something off of my bucket list. I wouldn’t be going as a player—no, that ship has sailed—I would still go as part of a team.

  I glance at the clock. One more minute left of the fourth quarter. We’re up by fourteen points, but a lot can happen in this minute, which could turn into ten minutes.

  The whistle blows and the ball is thrown into the air, a defensive player pummels into one of our own receivers before the ball arrives and another whistle is blown.

  “Pass interference. Automatic first down. Seattle has the ball,” the referee says.

  The players get back into a scrimmage and the play restarts.

  Montgomery hands off the ball to Smith, the running back who fakes a throw to Sutherland as Smith tucks the ball into his body, dodges the other players and then has an open shot to the end zone.

  I look at the clock, thirty seconds left. We can do this.

  The running back gets sacked and the referee blows his whistle.

  Fuck!

  The clock pauses and I’m shouting at a few of my guys as they run onto the field and I’m nervous for them to run the plays. It’s like I hold my breath and everything happens so fast as Keyes, my offensive lineman practically waltzes into the end zone and the stadium’s volume is a deafening high.

  I blink.

  Wait, did that just happen? Did we win the championship?

  I look around to my colleagues and our players celebrating as our players come off the field high-fiving and yelling in excitement. Some players are doing their celebration dances.

  One player grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, all the while shouting.

  My emotions kick into gear and my heart rate kicks up. Montgomery grabs me in a bear hug and spins me in circles. I get into the celebration and let the energy sink in.

  After the excitement calms down a bit, out of the corner of my eye, I see Mila Rossi talking to the head coach with the cameras rolling. Coach is smiling a lot, and I see Mila nodding and the microphone going between the two of them. When she turns to the camera, four of our players take the Gatorade barrel and pour what’s left in it over the Coach. Mila jumps forward and smiles at the camera, never breaking from her job. Then the camera goes down and she bends at the waist and laughs while holding her side.

  She stands and her eyes roam the crowd of players and team staff until her gaze lands on me. She smiles shyly and then turns away.

  MILA

  What a game! The whole last quarter was nail biting.

  I wasn’t sure which team would win until the very last few minutes. Even though Seattle was up by fourteen points, in minutes everything can change in favor of the other team. Luckily, that didn’t happen.

  I’m not, by any means, a Seattle fan, but I live in the city and you have to be proud of your city’s home teams. I like all the teams, just a few a little more than the other.

  No, I’m a Los Angeles fan. Not the team that has bounced from city to city. The LA Mustangs were there when I was a kid, and while they spent several years back east, when I was in high school, they came back and haven’t left since. As a kid, I grew up with the team's yellow and blue bolt on my cheek on Sundays. We tailgated every Sunday at the stadium. With my grandmother often drawing with a shaky hand, my bolts on my cheeks after a morning of what she liked to call the breakfast of champions—bloody Mary’s until the game started. Football is in my blood and not just because my family are fans. My big brother is the starring quarterback, Randall Harris, for the same team I have been a die-hard fan of since birth. When I grew up, I changed my last name and reinvented myself to not be known as Randy’s little sister.

  And no one has any clue.

  After interviewing the head coach for Seattle, and a few of the players, I l
eft the stadium and headed to Edmonds, where I live in a cute three-bedroom cottage that is a gardener's dream. Too bad I kill plants better than I kill flies. And the gardens are mostly succulents or cacti. Even I couldn’t kill those.

  I’m only home part of the year, the other part of the year, I’m living in suitcases and traveling up and down the west coast. My weeks are in Seattle and my weekends are wherever the station wants me to be. Thankfully, I rotate teams in the division, that way I’m not always covering the same team. But this season, I haven’t minded covering the Seattle games.

  One coach is hot as hell and there’s been a few times that we’ve locked eyes. It steals my breath each time. His eyes hold a seriousness that I’m just not used to, and I’m mesmerized by it.

  There’s something about him though I just can’t put my finger on. Other than sports…where do I know him from?

  I settle in on the couch and see that there are a few messages in my inbox. While I’m exhausted from the day, and mentally do not want to work, I still open up my email and see that it’s from my supervisor.

  Subject Title: Important the Biggest Game of the Year

  Ms. Rossi,

  I’m writing to inform you about a new assignment. Please be at the office Monday morning at 9am, sharp.

  Thank you,

  Frank

  This could mean something big.

  Chapter 2

  TOPHER

  We have two weeks until we play in the biggest game of the year. One-week jam-packed with meetings to work on our game plan and then we travel to Minneapolis to get acclimated to the elements and assure that our players are as healthy as can be.

  My jeep stops in my parking spot, I kill the engine, and pick up my laptop bag to head inside team headquarters. Since I’m one of the last ones to arrive, I still take my time in setting up my laptop and pulling out my notebooks. While looking over to Jared Coffman, the special teams coach and smile.

  “Did you sleep in your clothes, Wilkens?” He asks with a laugh.

  I look down at the creases in my shirt, “forgot to fold my laundry. Unlike you, I don’t have someone who cleans my underwear.” I tease as he continuously likes to tell us about his maid who comes twice a week to his home, once to clean and once to spend quality time with.

  “You need one. Then you won’t look so stressed on game days.” He winks.

  “Thank you all for coming in, let’s get started.” The team owner says as he walks into the room, quieting everyone with his presence.

  The rest of the day was full of planning. We didn’t want to waste a minute before heading to Minneapolis. Not to mention, I have to reschedule a few things on my end before heading out of town.

  Leaving the offices, I pull my phone out of my pocket and find my exes number. She answers quickly and clearly annoyed.

  “What do you want, Toph? I thought the point of divorce was to not have to deal with one another again.”

  “Sophia, I need you to sign the paperwork for the condo. Your name is on it, and that’s the last thing we need to do to be finished with this whole thing.”

  “I thought I signed that when I signed the divorce paperwork last month, wasn’t that all included?” she asks naively.

  I take a deep breath.

  “No. It had language in there pertaining to our assets, and you didn’t want the condo. So, since when I bought it, I added your name on the paperwork, it became ours. And now it’s just mine.”

  “Are you going to stay living in it?” She asks, ignoring my explanation.

  “Not sure yet. Think you can have that signed soon?” I ask.

  “I’ll have to look for it, what’s it look like again?”

  I take a deep breath to not sound annoyed. “It was sent over in an envelope from my lawyer.”

  “Oh yeah, why are you in such a rush anyways?” She questions.

  “I’m leaving town for a few weeks and I just want to make sure this gets done. Sooner rather than later.”

  “Yeah, sure, whatever,” she replies.

  “Thanks. Have a good night.” I say, not really meaning it and hanging up.

  Sophia Ringley was my college sweetheart, and I really thought the relationship was going to last forever. How naïve I was, thinking Sophia was truly in love with me and not just my status.

  Playing football was a huge part of my life, I was a tight end with the promising future who got drafted into big leagues my senior year. My career was amazing for the first few years, then two years ago I got injured in a car accident and my playing career was over. Not too long after that, my marriage was over too.

  It was then that I learned who Sophia really was. As soon as I got released from the hospital, there was something different from how she treated me. She hated helping me around our place; she hated waiting on me, and she sure as heck hated that I would no longer play the game.

  We separated. And not too long after that, Sophia found another ball player to attach herself to.

  We were no longer the cute couple, Soph and Toph.

  She was warming someone else’s bed, and I was fine with that. Sure, at first I was crushed, but I quickly learned that I didn’t want someone like her in my life. I wanted someone who loved me on and off the field. Someone who understood that part of the year, I would have to travel. That my job would be important, but never more important that my love for someone.

  I’m a month out of divorce, but a year and a half of being separated. I’m not looking for a relationship, but I’m also not dead. If someone worthwhile comes along, then I will totally see what could happen.

  Maybe first, I should work towards winning the big game with my team.

  MILA

  “It was insane, you guys. First, I thought we were pretty much down for the count and that there was no chance in hell—”

  “Language Randall!” Mom warns.

  “Sorry.” He says apologetically, even though he doesn’t even mean it. “Anyway, I thought we weren’t going to win, and then Bam! Wilson psyches them with a throw and the Wolves fell for it, then he runs at least thirty yards into the end zone. It was amazing!”

  “No kidding, I was on pins and needles as those thirty yards felt like miles.” Dad replies.

  “Randall, we’re so proud of you. You played excellent.” Mom smiles. “Mila, did you catch your brother's game?”

  “No, I didn’t have a chance, I was prepping for the Seattle game.”

  “They won.”

  “Maybe next season your station will have you do more LA games, that way we can see you more often, and you can interview your big brother more.” Dad says into his plate of food before shoving a fork full of mashed potatoes in his mouth.

  “The station rotates me around, along with all of our other broadcasters. I’ve interviewed Randy a few times this year.” I remind him.

  “She has. I’ve tried to give her hug, but she likes to keep me at a distance. It’s probably because I’m sweaty from the game.” My brother grins at me.

  “Are you still pretending that you don’t know him?” Mom asks.

  “He’s kind of hard to ignore, so I think everyone knows him. But yes, I like to keep our relation to one another private from work and the world.” I nod.

  “Why? I shout from the rooftops that Randall here is my son.” Dad grimaces.

  “I’ve had to prove myself and will need to continue to prove myself in a male-dominated field. I don’t want everyone to think that I got where I am today by being someone’s sister. I’ve worked my way up at Sideline Sports and went about it the right way and without any favors.” I tell my family, reminding them for what feels like the hundredth time about my reasoning.

  No one at Sideline Sports Station has any clue that I’m related to Randy, and they never will.

  “It’s okay, Dad. My feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

  “But hey guys, I have some news.” I start, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

  “Oh yeah, and wha
t’s that?” Mom asks.

  “Well, after the championship game, I got an email from the station. They want me to cover the game.”

  “Oh, that’s fabulous.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty freakin' cool. You’ll get to see your big brother kick some ass!”

  “Language.” Mom growls across the table with a glare.

  I roll my eyes at my brother.

  “Anyway, that’s not all. They asked me to do special interviews with both teams.” I say, looking around the table.

  Randy has a mouthful and I can’t tell whether or not he knew that information yet.

  “So now you will be writing articles?” Mom asks.

  “I don’t have all the details yet. I have a meeting with my boss on Tuesday, but it will still be for television.”

  “Remember my buddy Topher?” Randy asks the room.

  “Of course, you and him were inseparable throughout high school. What’s he up to nowadays?” Mom asks.

  “He’s now one of the team coaches for Seattle.”

  “I thought he got a scholarship for football?” Dad asks with a mouthful.

  “He did. He played through college, even made it into the league. But I think he hurt himself a few years ago. I don’t know. Alls I know is that he’s coaching.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Perhaps you and he can hang out,” Mom says happily. “Or maybe we can all do a family dinner?”