He turned and walked away, and she fumbled behind her for the door handle, turning it and backing inside.
Just friends? Who was he kidding?
The man was dangerous.
She was going to have to figure out a way to never, ever see Grant Cassidy again.
FIVE
“TWENTY-FOUR AND OUT, SIX, HUT HUT!”
Grant backed away from center, ball in hand, and searched the field, scouting receivers while his front line did their job, keeping the defenders away.
He spied Cole Riley on an open route and threw the ball into Jamarcus Davis’s waiting hands.
It was a good play.
The whistle blew and he regrouped with his offense.
Both the running and passing game were going well. The team looked good this preseason. All their key players were healthy, and the rookies were coming along. If they were lucky and everyone stayed injury-free, they had a shot at a damn good season.
Practice today was long, but productive. Coach Tallarino was happy with their progress, and Grant liked what he saw on offense. He had a lot of targets to hit with his receivers, and that’s all he wanted.
“Looking good out there, Grant,” the coach said after practice. “How’s the arm?”
He’d had some stiffness in his shoulder during the off-season, but he’d worked it out with therapy and weights. “Doing good. No pain, no stiffness.”
“Let the trainers check you out. I don’t want to take any chances. And be sure to check in with the team docs before we take off for New York.”
“You got it, Coach.”
He met with the trainers, who went through his range of motion. He felt no pain, which was a relief to him. A quarterback was only as good as his throwing arm. When the doc came in, they went through even more.
“No stiffness? And don’t lie to me, because I’ll know if you do.”
He liked Martin Ashwell, the team doctor. “A little in the morning when I first get up. But I do the range of motion exercises the PT staff gave me, and after a hot shower, I’m fine.”
Marty nodded. “That’s to be expected. But no sharp pains?”
“No.”
“Good.” The doc tested his range of motion, and pressed on some of the spots he’d complained were tender during the off-season. He’d had a cortisone shot, and some physical therapy.
“I really feel great, Marty.”
“Your MRI looked clear. I don’t see any scar tissue. PT staff said you worked it during off-season like you were supposed to and you didn’t miss any appointments. You’re a better patient than most of the guys. And you lifted weights and built some muscle mass in your upper body. That’ll help.”
He laughed. “I kind of need my arm. It’s my money-maker.”
Marty slapped his back. “You’re a smart guy, Grant. And a good player. You can put your shirt back on.”
The doc made some notes on his computer, then turned around. “You’re good to go. Monitor your movements and pain level. I’d say as long as you don’t do anything stupid, and stay in tune with the signals of your body, you’ll be fine. If you feel any sharp pains, let me know.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll let the coach know you’re fully cleared.”
“Thanks, Marty.”
He didn’t fully exhale until after he left the team facility and was in his car. Then he took a minute and let out a deep breath.
Yeah. He was clear. His shoulder was fine, and his career wasn’t over. He’d never said it out loud to anyone, never told his family about it, just kept it to himself. But the issue with his shoulder had scared the shit out of him. Things like that could end a quarterback’s career.
He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet.
He closed his eyes, gripped the steering wheel, and … breathed.
His phone rang, so he fished it out of the cup holder and checked the display.
It was his agent.
“Hey, Liz.”
“Hey, yourself. How did the shoot go in Barbados?”
“It went good.”
“So detailed as always, Cassidy. Who were you paired up with?”
“Katrina Korsova.”
“Outstanding. She’s one of the best. I can’t wait to see the pictures. Anyway, there’s a thing when you’re in New York next week.”
He loved Elizabeth Riley. She was one of the best agents in the business, a shark when it came to contract negotiations. She was also great with exposure, working with his PR team to make sure he was as noticeable off the field as he was on. He didn’t necessarily mind that.