Samantha Morrison was running late. Which explained the loose strands that had fallen out of the clip at the base of her neck. All morning she had been trying to organize her classroom and get through training the teacher aid that would be helping her out through the upcoming school year.
Unfortunately the assistant seemed much more interested on text messaging and snapping her gum than educating third graders, causing Samantha to dart around the classroom stapling and taping posters to the walls, forgetting about taking a break for lunch let alone paying any attention to the state of her unruly wavy tresses. An angry ring blared from her purse as she started crossing the street to a trendy sports bar on the north side of the river.
Without needing to look at who the caller was, Samantha answered the phone without a greeting. "Where the hell are you, and why the hell is it taking you so damn long?"
She laughed at the mock anger on the other end of the phone. "Hello to you too Liz, I'm just outside."
"Thank Christ, Jenna is already buzzed and thinking about calling Kevin. Who does that after two drinks? It's busy in here so what do you want? We'll order up for you."
"Hmm, I don't really know. Maybe just some wine?" She really didn't feel like drinking much since she had an early morning meeting with the principal and the dean of students to go over the first quarter of assignments. Somehow showing up with a hangover didn't seem like the best thing.
"Okay, see you in a few."
Tossing the phone back in her bag, Samantha walked up to the entrance of the bar and tugged on the heavy door. The immediate smell of cologne was almost intoxicating, if not overbearing at first. She forgot that the bar Liz had gotten everyone to meet up at was a stomping ground for many to watch sports games. It was still earlier on a Tuesday evening, but the crowd was thick. The highlights from the city's beloved football team streaming on the many flat screens scattered throughout the masculine interior. It never ceased to amaze her how the fans could be so fanatical over a sports team. Making her way through the sea of business suits and a full assortment of people wearing jerseys voicing their opinions of the latest draft pick to how the team had better make it to the Super Bowl, someone bumped into her from the side causing her to lose balance.
In the blink of an eye, her ankle turned and her body started to fall. Two quick hands from next to her reached around and grabbed her before she completely made an ass of herself by falling to the floor. One strong arm wrapped itself around and rested comfortably if not tightly onto the small of her back while the other hand gripped her side.
"Oh!" All Samantha could do was laugh before looking up to say thanks to the owner of the hands that seemed to be man shackling her body. As the focus started to return to her eyes, she raised them high enough to look into the darkest pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen.
"Thanks, I have no idea how that happened." Her eyes blue eyes twinkled as she realized how that must have sounded like a joke.
The man looked down at her then smiled, a small dimple popped out high on his cheekbone. Samantha's eyes riveted on it for a quick second before focusing on what he was saying.
"It's crowded in here and someone wasn't paying attention to where they were going." He straightened them both, releasing his arm from her back but keeping his grip on her side.
She glanced around as if to confirm what he'd said. "I guess, who knew for a weeknight."
Nodding toward the television screens that were flooded with commercials, "It's a perfect night for a game."
She rolled her eyes, "Every night is perfect for a game in a sports bar." The man chuckled, a deep rumble that hit her belly to the quick.
The temperature of the bar seemed to have gone up at least twenty degrees since she'd walked in, nervously she shook her head giving off a breathless laugh. Glancing back up, her eyes got locked into his curious gaze. After what felt like several minutes of going mute, her tongue decided it could work.
Just above a whisper she leaned forward and said, "You can let go of my jigs now." Her fingers lightly grazing his hand as each word fell from her lips.
His brow furrowed, as if he'd heard her wrong. "Your what?"
Smiling she confessed. "My jigs, the handles that you're hanging onto above my hips."
The man barked out a laugh, "Are you serious? Why do you call it that?"
"Please, as if men don't have names for their body pa-"Heat flooded her cheeks, Samantha stopped herself but it was all too late. This man who seemed almost larger than life lifted an eyebrow and grinned looking sexy as hell doing it and putting all GQ models to shame.
Leaning forward, he spoke close to her ear, his breath brushing across her skin lightly. "Well now, that's not something I'd expect a sweet lady like yourself to know anything about." He released his hand from her and cocked his head to the side.
This time it was she who laughed outright, after calming herself and taking a deep breath she knew she had to make her way to the group waiting for her. Or get to the nearest washroom and splash cold water on her face and all over her body.
"I really should get to my group before they call a search party." She started to step around the man.
Nodding, he paused before speaking. "They must be waiting." Samantha started to step around him, his brooding eyes following her every move. Only a few steps ahead she turned back and gave him a wicked grin.
"Thanks for the save short stop," with that she turned and weaved her way towards the back of the bar.
****
Gabe watched Samantha disappear into the crowd and turned back to sit with Ernie Devlin, the Offensive Line Coach. The two had come to
Bandios
to kick back a few and go over their game plan for the next day's practice.
After spending most of the day reviewing game film and talking with the other coaches, Ernie had suggested that they get out of the Cougars' compound and talk strategy over a few beers. A couple of the younger players Gabe had been working with during the off-season were showing improvement but were still arrogant on the field and forgetting their train of focus. He needed to figure a way of getting into those guys' heads to get the plays to stick. It was when he'd chewed through an entire package of gum and snapped at the two front office secretaries did Ernie tell him they were heading out.
As he seated himself back down on the stool, all thoughts were directed to the brunette beauty that just swept passed him. A smile crossed over his lips as he recalled her nicknaming her body.
"So what was that all about?" the bulky man from spending a few too many hours at the gym said as he turned toward Gabe. Ernie Devlin, a once great running back for the Jets back in the prime of his playing career, retired ten years earlier and had decided coaching was better than playing. With coaching there were no injuries.
Gabe shrugged at the question, "Nothing, some lady almost fell. I just helped her out" He helped her out but got caught up in the bright glitter in her eyes forgetting to ask what her name was let alone see if she wanted to get a drink. Gesturing to the television screens Gabe's attention turned from Samantha back to the team as the coverage onscreen was showcasing that morning's practice from the Cougars' practice field outside of the city.
"He's quick but he doesn't listen, look at his feet. Even from here you can see he's dragging. Why doesn't he tap?"
"Maybe you should take him dancing?" Gabe scoffed. "Jesus Russ, it's still the pre-season, keep working on him. He'll get it sooner or later."
Gabe picked at the label on his beer bottle and spoke under his breath. "Let's just hope it's not later."
For as long as he could remember, teammates and coaches had always called him Russ. Gabe could never figure it out because his name wasn't long, but he figured he'd rather have everyone call him his name rather than a nickname. A nickname. Gabe ran a hand through his thick brown hair as he thought about the woman who he just met. He had never been someone to forget his words but the minute he'd looked into her light blue eyes speech eluded him.
He noticed her while walking back to his seat after talking to a few of the fans in the bar, answering their questions and casually taking their ribbing about Dillon Velesques not knowing how to spell the word team. She struggled with the door as it closed behind her, but once she got passed the entrance and made her way through the crowd he saw how her pale yellow summer dress swayed above her knees with every step. Strands of her dark hair framed her face and itched to have fingers run through them. She seemed to be looking for someone and looked around the bar with wide eyes.
When she fell into him he grabbed onto her and was able to get a better look into her face. Whatever make up she must have applied earlier in the day had seemed to have worn off which probably was an alright thing considering the fairness of her skin and the brightness of her eyes which had given her an look that was no doubt sexy and very appealing.
"You coming out for Camille's dinner thing on Sunday? She'll be real hurt if you don't?' Camille Devlin loved a good cookout, especially before the season started and she became a football widow for a good seven months.
"Yeah I think so. I was going to head up to the cabin and lock it up for the summer but I should be back in time." Gabe glanced around Ernie toward the back of the bar in search of the pretty woman in the yellow dress. Her jasmine soft perfume stuck to his nose, a thought ran passed him and he soon found himself calling out to the bartender.
****
"Welcome to detention Ms Morrison!" All of the ladies shouted out to her, led by her closest friend since university Liz who hugged her as she sauntered to the group. They all scooted together in the booth giving space for Samantha to sit down, lifting their half filled glasses in the air in a loud toast.
"To work and all that other bullshit!" A few other people around their booth raised their glasses to join in the toast.
