The Game by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

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Two days later, I was upstairs at the arena for a meeting with Carl Robbins, VP of Community Relations. I was scheduled to toss the ball around tomorrow afternoon with some of the kids from the youth league the team sponsored, but my coach was being a stickler about my restrictions and had pulled the plug on me even doing that. Instead, they wanted me to give a talk about the hard work it took to get to the NFL. Carl had written some bullet points, as if I couldn’t figure out what to tell kids even though I was the one who’d managed to get here. Whatever. I knew he meant well, and some of the guys on the team would’ve made him write every word they were going to say for an appearance.

Carl liked to talk, so he was still rattling on as he walked me to the door of his office at the end of our session. I stepped out into the hall and tried to cut him off politely, but did a double take upon finding a certain green-eyed beauty heading right toward me. Bella’s steps faltered, giving Carl someone new to yammer at.

“Bella,” he bellowed. “Have you had a chance to meet Christian Knox yet?”

Her eyes jumped to me and back to Carl. I figured she was trying to figure out how much to say, so I decided to have a little fun and answer first.

“We actually met the other day.” I grinned. “Bella asked me for some recommendations on local places to order lunch. I suggested Three Brothers’ Pizza, though I told her she might want to pick it up because their delivery guy has been having some issues lately.”

Bella’s lip twitched. “Hi, Christian. It’s good to see you again.”

“Christian here is going to give a speech over at the youth league we sponsor,” Carl said. “I’m still putting together the list you asked me for of charitable events you might get involved with, but this is one you’d probably like. It’s an all-girls’ football team here in the City. They’re really good, too.”

“Oh really? An all-girls’ team? That does sound interesting.” Bella nodded toward her office. “I have to run to a meeting in a few minutes, but Christian, maybe you could tell me a little bit more about it.”

“Of course.” I shook Carl’s hand and told him I’d see him tomorrow afternoon. Then I followed Bella down the hall. I couldn’t help noticing her great ass, but I forced my eyes back up as fast as they fell, not wanting another sexual-harassment lecture.

Inside her office, she closed the door behind us.

“Maybe you shouldn’t shut that.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to get you alone so I could harass you.”

Bella sighed. “I deserve that. And it seems you figured out that I had mistaken you for someone else.”

“The womanizing pizza delivery guy…”

“I owe you a big apology. My half-sister apparently had a little fun at my expense. Though I need to take responsibility for my mistake. I should have recognized you.”

I wasn’t really mad. Once I’d realized she wasn’t actually accusing me of harassing someone, I found it kind of amusing. So I let her off the hook with a shrug. “Apology accepted.”

“Really?”

“Would it make you feel better if you had to grovel first?”

She sighed again. “Actually, it probably would. People being nice around here makes me suspicious.”

“Not a friendly reception, I take it?”

“My sisters hate my guts, and the mostly male staff all use a patronizing tone.”

“You want to know how I would handle those people?”

“How?”

“Fuck ’em. Ignore them all and do your own thing.” I tapped two fingers to my temple. “Don’t let them get in your head.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She smiled. “Why were you carrying all those pizza boxes at eight o’clock in the morning anyway?”

“It’s a tradition. When we win a home game, everyone gets pizza for breakfast the next morning, courtesy of Three Brothers’ Pizza. The owner’s a huge fan and has been doing it for longer than I’ve been around. Whatever sucker is out on injured reserve has to go get them.”

“What if you lose?”

I frowned. “No pizza.”

Bella laughed. “Do you think we can put the pizza-delivery incident behind us and start over? Pretend this is the first time we met?”

“I thought we already did, but alright.” I extended my hand. “Christian Knox. It’s nice to meet you.”

She put her hand in mine. “Bella Keating. I’m excited to meet you, Christian. I’m a big fan.”

I raised a brow. “Think that might be pushing it, since you didn’t even know what I looked like.”

“I don’t usually tell people this, but my being unable to place a face isn’t from lack of interest. I have prosopagnosia.”

“Prosopo—what?”

“Prosopagnosia. It’s the inability to recognize people by their faces.”

“That’s an actual thing?”

She smiled. “It is. It’s a cognitive disorder often caused by a head injury, but it can be congenital, too. I fell off the monkey bars at the park when I was five, and it affected the fusiform gyrus, which is the part of the brain that controls recognition.”