Last Play: Book 1 The Last Play Series Read Online Free PDF Page B

“What?”
    Putting a hand on her hip, she moved closer to him, searching his eyes. “What I’m really asking for is budget approval.”
    His pulse raced, and he stepped back, trying to get as far as he could from the lemon fragrance that wafted off of her. “Sure. Absolutely. Whatever you want.”
    Lifting her eyebrows, she grinned. “Really? Anything I want?”
    It wasn’t just that his mind felt scrambled. Did the manager keep the heat up in here? He tugged off his coat. “Get all the supplies you need.” He folded his coat and put it in the front part of the cart.
    The way she spun on her heel and flashed a wide smile told him he was going to vehemently regret giving her that kind of a license.
    She rattled on about different people they saw in the store. There was Mrs. Harper, the old school teacher. When Katie introduced him as Jim’s nephew, Mrs. Harper hugged him and said how sorry she was. She proceeded to make a point of introducing her daughter who happened to be trapped in town for the weekend and suggested he might take her out. The idea that Mrs. Harper would blatantly throw her quiet daughter at him was just a bit much. Her daughter wasn’t bad looking, but she seemed painfully shy in his presence so her mother’s suggestion was just weird. But he’d definitely had weirder encounters with mothers wanting him to date their daughters, so he just nodded politely.
    At this, Katie had promptly covered her face and pushed the cart away from them, leaving him to make excuses and describe the projects that they were knee deep in. Of course he left out the fact that he’d only really committed to doing them this morning. He walked away from the whole thing and endured more laughter and soft punches to the shoulder from Katie.
    “Big quarterback’s in town, ladies. It’s The Bachelor comes to Wolfe Creek. Who will get a rose?”
    Not really amused, he pretended to play along anyway. “Right, maybe instead of handing out roses, we’ll give power tools to the girls that know how to overhaul the most projects around the inn.”
    She snapped her fingers with delight. “Exactly, and you could strut around with a tool belt on and show them how to do stuff.”
    He snickered. “Problem is I don’t know how to do much stuff .”
    She rolled her eyes. “That’s okay, QB. Throwing a ball is all you need to know how to do, right?”
    Although it shouldn’t really be an insult, it kind of did sound like an insult. “What does that mean?”
    She kept strolling down the aisles, adding things to the cart. “Nothing.” She focused on a drill. “I need a drill. Are you okay with buying this?”
    The drill was not on his radar. “Yeah, whatever. What did you mean quarterbacks only have to throw a ball?”
    She forced him to a stop by cutting him off as she moved to the other side of the aisle and added something else to the cart. She was frowning when she replied, “You sound offended.”
    “I’m not.” It came out a little too quickly.
    She studied him for a second then turned their cart to the check out lane. “Chill out, QB, lots of women want a man that can throw a ball.” She lifted an eyebrow. “And I admit, you do that well.”
    Once again, the compliment sounded like an insult. “I do lots of other things well.” He threw out at her.
    She began unloading all the things in the check out lane. “I didn’t say you don’t.”
    Memories of his mother teaching him things flashed into his mind. “I can cook.”
    The side of her lip tugged up. “I’m happy for you.” She pushed the cart through and nodded to the cashier.
    Angrily, without knowing why he should feel angry, he tugged his card out of his wallet and didn’t even look at the total, his eyes riveted on her. “Have you ever watched spring training or a football documentary on all the things we have to do to maintain ourselves?”
    He signed a slip, and she was already taking some of the bungee cords out of the cart along with a tarp,