Authors: Amelia Whitmore
Kickoff for Love
Kickoff for
Lov
e
New Adult Romance
Amelia Whitmore
GTQ LLC
Orlando, Florida
Copyright © 2016 by
Amelia Whitmore
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
GTQ LLC
PO Box 540375
Orlando, FL 32854
www.gtq.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Kickoff for Love/ Amelia Whitmore
. -- 1st Ed.
ISBN 978-0-0000000-0-0
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Ashley’s POV
“Later Linds, I’ve gotta meet my dad at the parent pickup,” I said to my best friend. We’ve been close since I first met her two months ago, when I enrolled to this school in June. We bumped into each other in the hallway, and clicked immediately. Lindsey and I spent the whole summer together. When school started two weeks ago, we were lucky enough to be together in almost all the same classes.
“How come?” She asked. “Don’t you normally ride the bus?”
“Yeah, but Dad decided it would just be easier to use his lunch break and get me than pay two hundred dollars every month for a bus.”
She nodded understandingly. “I’ve got to go, see ya,” I said as we hugged and headed our separate ways.
I saw my dad’s truck at the front of the line. When I hopped in, he practically burnt rubber taking off so fast.
“Whoa, slow the fuck down!” I said as I latched my seatbelt and held onto anything I could get my hands on.
“Ashley,” he said warningly. “Watch your language.”
“Sorry, but I’m pretty sure I got whiplash.”
“We’re late,” he said as he weaved in and out of traffic.
“I’d rather be late than dead, and that’s how we’ll be if you Don’t. Slow. Down.” I said, enunciating my words.
“Fine,” he grumbled as he let the car go down to 80 in the 55 mph zone.
“Thank you,” I sighed.
“How was school?” He asked, taking the exit.
“Peachy. Work?” I asked.
He smiled. “I love this job, Ashley, I really do,” I nodded.
His job was the whole reason we moved back to California in the first place. You see, before I was born, Dad worked as an assistant football coach at UCLA. Then Oregon State offered him a co-coaching opportunity. It was better pay than what he had; so he took the job. I grew up spending my summers and weekends on that campus at that field. The rest of the time I was with my mother.
About five years ago, my mother met Rick. He’s older than her by about ten years and had claimed repeatedly that he was over the “Daddy” stage. He didn’t want to marry her if it meant I was living there too. He never said it quite like that, but we all knew it was what he meant. I ended up moving in with my father shortly after and Mom moved to Oklahoma with her brand new husband.
Anyways, about four months ago, Dad got a call from my Uncle Pete, who’s the Dean of Admissions at California Polytechnic University. He put in a good word for Dad, and here he is head coach of the Cal Poly Mustangs. I get a major scholarship if I go there, so my future is basically set.
“I know,” I said softly as he parked right outside of the stadium, something he hardly ever did; claiming “Exercise cleanses the soul!”
I grabbed my school bag and walked onto the huge football field filled with sexy college football players.
“Coach, you’re late!” One of the guys taunted.
Dad put on his surprised face. “Am I really? The clock in my truck must be off.”
I coughed out “Full of Shit,” into my hand and tried holding back a laugh. Most of the guys chuckled as Dad glared playfully at me.
I blinked innocently. Dad saw it and scoffed “right,” before turning to the players. “Everybody, this is my daughter, Ashley. Ashley, this is everybody.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks dad, lovely introduction.” He just shrugged his shoulders and went to talk to some of the other coaches.
I walked over to the stands, sitting back and propping my feet up.
I was pulling out my book when I heard, “So, you’re the coach’s daughter?” I looked up and saw a small group of guys.
I smiled and said “Yep.”
“You know, you’re apparently better at football than over half of us here,” the guy who first spoken to me said. I could tell he was a charmer from the start.
I blushed. “Is that so?” I asked vaguely. There was no need to explain that I probably was. I grew up spending my weekends and summers with either professional or college level football players.
“Yep, it is.” He said, as he took off his helmet to reveal long shoulder length blonde hair, and clear brown eyes.
“I’m Chris,” he said, “and a quarterback.”
“Mike,” a guy with short black hair and hazel eyes said.
“Craig Dawson,” piped up a guy with a thick southern drawl.
The next guy made my heart skip a beat. He had wild, shaggy brown hair that I wanted to run my fingers through, and crystal blue eyes. He was the tallest of the bunch. “Andy,” he said with a quiet, husky voice. “I’m team captain.”
I finally found my voice. Using all of my strength not to stare at Andy, I said “Nice to meet you all. As my dad already told you, I’m Ashley.”
In the distance, I heard Dad chuckle. “Ash, stop distracting my boys,” he said, using my nickname.
I held my hands up. “Hey now, it’s not my fault they wanted me to know them as something other than ‘everybody’.”
Dad rolled his eyes and blew the whistle.
The guys jogged off, pulling their helmets on as they went. Andy left slower, he blinked at me a couple times before raising the side of his mouth in an almost smile
before running off.
“Dude, where’s coach?” Chris asked as he jumped on me.
“I don’t know.” I told him slowly.
“Well you should, you are the captain,” he taunted, knowing that I didn’t actually want the position and that coach forced me to take it. I don’t like being the one everybody looks to for answers. However, it’s what I’m best at under pressure. I’m naturally a person who makes intelligent decisions. I have the occasional beer, but other than that, I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs. Coach says I’m a natural leader.
Just then, the doors opened and coach came in with a girl who looked about a year or two younger than us.
“Coach, you’re late.” Chris called out.
Coach said his truck’s clock was slow. I almost choked on the water I was drinking when the girl coughed “Full of Shit.”
I expected coach to get pissed; instead, he just laughed and introduced her as Ashley. I like the name, it fits her.
When she sat down, I nodded towards a couple of the guys I knew would make her feel welcome. As we walked towards her, we all took off our helmets to introduce ourselves.
Chris spoke up first. He’s always been a ladies man and apparently coach’s daughter wasn’t off limits for his player ways. When he told her about her father always comparing us to her, she gave a modest blush and said, “Is that so?”
Next was Mike. He’s one of the smaller guys on the team, but he’s incredibly smart and gives one mean tackle.
When Craig spoke up, I watched her lips quirk happily when she heard his accent. He had transferred from Texas a few months ago with his wife and daughter.
Next was me. When she looked into my eyes, I felt my breathing hitch. Her eyes were a soft gray. She had tiny, light tan freckles dotting her beautiful face. “Andy” I said, my voice coming off deeper than I intended. “I’m team captain,” I said, just as the coach called us over. The smile I watched grow on her face made me feel like the field was suddenly twenty degrees warmer.
Practice was harder than usual. Tommy Johnson kept fumbling the ball and coach finally had enough of it.
“Ashley!” He yelled out. She looked up flustered and then glared at him.
“Yes?” She asked curtly, raising an eyebrow.
“Get down here!” He ordered.
She stood up, putting her hands on her hips. “Unless I’ve done something wrong by sitting here reading my book, you’re gonna have to take another look at your manners.” She said in a stony voice, with determination in her eyes.
He walked over to her and they spoke quietly. We all stood back and watched in awe as she walked onto the field with him.
“Sorry ‘bout this,” she said softly to Tommy, who looked confused.
“Tommy, give Ashley your pads and helmet,” Coach said.
“Isn’t there another set somewhere?” She asked. I could tell by her voice that she wasn’t disgusted by the used pads, but the fact that her father would take them away from somebody else.
“If he’s gonna fumble, then he can give up his equipment,” Coach huffed.
Ashley crossed her arms. “I won’t take them if your reasoning behind it is embarrassment. I understand that this is your team and your field, but when I’m on it, you’ll show your players respect. I can easily go back to reading, or wait out in the truck if you don’t agree.”
Coach sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Tommy, go get her the smallest pads and helmet we’ve got in the lockers,” As Ashley raised one eyebrow in Coach’s direction he added, “Please?”
We all glanced at one another, hardly believing what just happened. Coach was one mean son of a gun not to be messed with. One word from this girl who didn’t look like she could hurt a fly and Coach was muttering out apologies.
‘Oh yeah, she’s a keeper.’ I thought to myself as Tommy ran back with the stuff.
When he helped her with the straps and such, I watched her give him a smile and laugh at something he said. Out of nowhere, I caught myself glaring at Tommy with a tight feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn’t believe it. I, Andy Richmond was jealous. All because of a girl, whom I’d only said hello to, because she laughed with somebody else.
Once her gear was on, she proceeded onto the field within a minute. Coach spoke up. “Alright guys, same gameplay, same positions, only this time, throw the ball to Ashley.”
Every guy on the team glanced at me, questioning if I was alright with it. I shrugged my shoulders before we all got into our positions.
Chris threw a perfect spiral straight to Ashley. She caught it flawlessly and ran towards the touchdown line. We all stopped following her as we looked on with a mixture of surprise, awe, and not knowing what to do.
When she realized that nobody was chasing her, Ashley turned around and jogged back towards us. She threw the ball down on the ground and whipped off her helmet.
“If y’all are too pansy ass to tackle me then you shouldn’t be playing football!” She yelled out.
“I’ve played with men twice the size of most of you and walked away with less than a scratch. I’m not some sissy girl who can’t handle being bumped and bruised.” She indicated with a wave of her hand in front of her body. Ashley picked up the ball and shoved it towards one of the guys. “This time, don’t be stupid. Tackle the person with the damn ball!” She demanded.
None of us moved immediately; we were all in shock. The sweet, beautiful girl who’d walked in here with skinny jeans and a tank top was now a hardcore sports enthusiast who was ready to get down and dirty.
Coach blew the whistle and we all moved into formation. Ashley caught the ball effortlessly, but was wide open for my tackle.
I ran up from her left side and scooped her into my arms. She weighed practically nothing. Then I lowered her slowly until her face was parallel with mine.
After staring into her gray eyes, they looked like puddles left over from a rainy day when the clouds reflected and their water rippled, I gulped and said softly “I’m sorry, but I just can’t tackle a girl,” I told her.
A slow smile spread across her face, highlighting her every feature. “At least you caught me.”
I nodded and bit my bottom lip while softly setting her on her feet. “Yeah, at least I caught you,” I conceded before turning away.
