A Quarterback for Christmas: A Coaches Daughter Steamy Romance by Ana Shay

Author:Ana Shay [Shay, Ana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Bella

Three weeks later

Marissa: You are officially back in the dorms tomorrow! I’ve been so lonely without you. Got snacks and a movie to celebrate.

Great.

Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and every Jason Statham movie known to man is waiting for me. I attempt to toss my phone across the room, but unfortunately, I miss the floor and hit my green cast. “Owww.” I don’t feel much of it, but I’m still angry and bitter over how everything went down between Drew and me.

The last three weeks without Drew have been nothing short of a mindfuck, and the only good thing about living with my father again is that I’ve realized just how important it is for me to move to a new state when I graduate. Not Indiana or Florida. Somewhere new, where no one knows me.

Hell, maybe it’s time I took the plunge and tried to actually move to London instead of being drawn back by my dad. A fresh start away from American culture is exactly what I need because, frankly, my chances of meeting a hot quarterback in England were about as slim as me winning track this year.

A studious British guy with impeccable manners is what I need after the whole Drew fiasco.

I cringe just thinking about him. I haven’t seen him, or any other students for that matter since the night he called me a coward. I’ve been hauled up in my dad’s house, attending my classes online because he didn’t want me to risk slipping on sleet. Overprotective much?

I sigh and turn the TV on. There’s no point wallowing in this pity party. I need to do something, and if that something is watching Baseball Wives, then so be it.

I jump a little when the front door opens, and my dad greets me with a smile. “Morning, Belly.” He drops his gym bag onto the floor, and when he gets to me, he pushes my hair back and kisses me on the forehead.

“How was practice?” I mute the TV to listen to my dad but watch the show with the side of my eye.

Dad’s feet slow, and he looks over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at me. “Are you feeling okay? I just checked your forehead, and it wasn’t hot.”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re not only asking me about my day, but you’re asking me about football, and that’s a subject you hate more than the patriarchy.”

I shimmy down further into the seat, feeling slightly salty about the observation. “Sorry for showing some interest in your work since it’s the only reason I’m here in the first place.”

That makes him turn around, and he sits on the coffee table in front of me. “Never be sorry, Belly. I’m just joking. For a second, I thought you might be getting more interested in football after watching the playoffs with me all month.”

Groaning, I scrub my face, wishing I could scrub that memory from my brain. Yes, I sat with him while he watched the games,

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