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Red Zone: In the Zone, #3
Red Zone: In the Zone, #3
Red Zone: In the Zone, #3
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Red Zone: In the Zone, #3

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Dalton James grew up dreaming of the NFL, and how his dreams are coming true. As the number one draft pick, Dalton finds himself returning to his hometown as the anointed savior of the NFL's newest franchise. The only thing that could be better would be if his best friend was still around to share with it. Caylor isn't, but his little sister is, and she's not that little anymore.

Caytlyn Duhamel grew up palling around with her older brother and crushing on his best friend. Now Caylor's gone, and Dalton is back—and he's just as gorgeous as ever. Cayt tells herself she's not interested, and Caylor wouldn't approve, but the attraction is difficult to ignore.

Can Dalton and Cayt bury the ghosts of the past and embrace a future together?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 16, 2019
ISBN9781540125378
Red Zone: In the Zone, #3
Author

Michele Shriver

Michele Shriver grew up in Texas and now lives in the Midwest, where she has a general law practice. In her free time, she enjoys bicycling, Zumba fitness and watching sports on TV. She is working on her second novel, a spin-off of After Ten.

Read more from Michele Shriver

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    Book preview

    Red Zone - Michele Shriver

    SMC Publishing

    Red Zone by Michele Shriver

    Copyright 2019 Michele Shriver

    Published by SMC Publishing

    All Rights Reserved

    This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Cover photography by RLS Model Images

    Cover model Justin Rich

    Cover design by Susan Ann Wall

    The game of life is a lot like football. You have to tackle your problems, block your fears, and score your points when you get the opportunity. - Lewis Grizzard

    Chapter One

    Dalton James sat in the green room, which was neither green, nor a room. No, it was merely a cordoned-off area behind the main stage where the action took place, and it would be Dalton’s home for the next several hours while he waited for the call that would change his life forever. His parents were on either side of him and his cell phone lay on the table in front of him, within easy reach for when the call came. For many of the college football players gathered in living rooms across the country, it was a not a question of when the coveted call would come, but if . If they would be drafted into the National Football League. For Dalton, the question was when, so he figured he had it easier than plenty of other guys, even as he munched on potato chips and picked at the cuticles on his fingers in an effort to keep busy and keep from losing his mind while he waited to learn his fate.

    Would he be selected first overall, as many projected, or would he slip a spot or two to another quarterback-needy team? The talking heads on ESPN and NFL Network had speculated for months. The newly-minted St. Louis Sting franchise owned the number one pick. As an expansion team, the Sting had many positions of need, but if a decision had been made who to use it on, it was a closely guarded secret.

    Would they take the quarterback, the hometown boy, and then use the later rounds to build the team around him? Maybe, but they might also opt for a speedy wide receiver or the punishing linebacker who put fear in the eyes of opposing quarterbacks.

    Ronnie Simms had been Dalton’s teammate at UCLA, so they’d faced each other in practice nearly every day for four years. Dalton knew Ronnie’s skills. If the Sting made Simms the first pick, it would be a good one, and wherever Dalton went, he wouldn’t look forward to playing St. Louis.

    Ronnie walked by Dalton’s table on the way to his own and offered a fist bump. Are you ready for this?

    Dalton grinned. Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this moment ever since the first time I picked up a football. The St. Louis Rams were the reigning Superbowl champs, and for Dalton’s fourth birthday, his uncle bought him a Rams jersey sporting Kurt Warner’s number thirteen, while his parents gave him a football personally autographed by the MVP quarterback. His hands were too little to get any sort of grip on it, but Dalton didn’t care. He knew what he wanted. Someday, he would quarterback the Rams to another championship.

    Except the Rams moved back to Los Angeles, and St. Louis was now home to the Sting. Ironically, Los Angeles owned the second pick in the draft. Having played his college ball in the city of angels, the Rams organization was plenty familiar with Dalton’s resume. If he wasn’t picked first, Dalton figured he had a good shot at going second, and that would be fine with him. Heck, he might not even have to move. And then there was Kimmie. They’d already said their goodbyes as they both prepared for graduation and greener pastures, but if Dalton didn’t end up leaving L.A., where did that leave things?

    Good luck, man, he said to Ronnie.

    Yeah. You too.

    Dalton wiped a sweaty palm on the pant leg of his suit and fixed his gaze on the TV monitor. The NFL Commissioner walked to the podium amid a chorus of boos. Dalton never understood why the fans continued to boo the commissioner, who clearly relished both the attention and the controversy. Then again, there were lots of things Dalton didn’t understand.

    The 2019 NFL draft is officially open, the commissioner announced. The St. Louis Sting are on the clock.

    Showtime.

    Dalton studied his phone, which so far had been silent. He glanced in Ronnie’s direction. His friend hadn’t received a call yet, either.

    It’s happening. It’s coming, Dalton’s mother said, and reached over to squeeze his hand. As she did, Dalton heard his familiar ring tone.

    He reached for the phone, checking the display. He’d answer no matter what, but Dalton wanted to know his fate before he heard the voice on the other end. The 314 area code. St. Louis. Was he headed home?

    Dalton tapped at the screen. Hello?

    Dalton, it’s Jon Rice. Are you ready to come play for the St. Louis Sting?

    A lump formed in Dalton’s throat. Yes. Yes, sir. I am.

    I hope so, because we’re sending the card in right now.

    The ticker on the bottom of the screen announced that the pick was in. Thank you, Mr. Rice.

    You’re welcome. We’ll talk more soon.

    Dalton watched as the commissioner made his way back to the podium. With the first pick in the 2019 NFL draft, the St. Louis Sting select Dalton James, quarterback, UCLA.

    It was official. Dalton was headed back to St. Louis. He used the back of his hand to wipe at his eyes before making his way to the stage to shake hands with the commissioner and don the yellow and black Sting ball cap.

    The moment was bittersweet. Dalton’s dream had come true, but it wasn’t the way he always envisioned it, because his best friend wasn’t there to celebrate with him. As he walked across the stage, he directed his gaze to the ceiling, hoping Caylor was watching.

    CHANGE THE CHANNEL, Caytlyn Duhamel said to her best friend and roommate when Chele’s channel-surfing landed them on the NFL draft.

    Why? I thought you liked football.

    I do, Cayt said. It’s not the sport itself I have issues with. I just have no desire to watch this particular draft. Chele wasn’t listening, though, or if she was, she’d chosen to ignore Cayt’s pleas as she set the remote control down, leaving the TV on the draft coverage.

    Too many memories?

    Too many what ifs, Cayt corrected. Six months ago, she’d looked forward to draft day with great anticipation. She’d expected to be there in person, either to support her brother, or maybe as Joel’s date. Instead, neither of those dreams had come to pass. Caylor was dead, Joel was in prison, and Cayt sat in a dorm room in Columbia, Missouri wishing her roommate would turn off the stupid TV.

    I’ll change it in a minute, Chele said. I just want to see who St. Louis drafts.

    I thought you were a Chiefs fan. Chele was from the Kansas City area.

    I am, and I’m looking forward to having an in-state rivalry again.

    That’ll be nice. Cayt agreed it would be good to have the NFL back in her hometown again. I’m just not sure how much of a rivalry it’s going to be at first.

    We’ll see. This could go a long way to making it one.

    They both stopped talking as they awaited the announcement of the first pick. Cayt hoped it would be someone she’d never heard of, and Chele would move on from the draft before Cayt was forced to collide with her past. No such luck, though, as Dalton James sauntered out onto the stage in his moment of glory.

    Hey, isn’t that your brother’s best friend?

    Unfortunately, yes. Caylor’s best friend, and Cayt’s one-time crush would be calling St. Louis home again.

    Cayt vowed to spend most of her time in Columbia.

    Chapter Two 

    Cayt opened the door of her childhood home to find herself face to face with the city’s newest sports hero. The hometown boy back to begin a new era of professional football in St. Louis. Even though Cayt hadn’t seen Dalton in person for several years, she’d seen his face on TV plenty of times.

    She knew his expressions. There was the pissed-off look when he’d just tossed an interception, and the cocky one when he’d thrown a touchdown pass and he ran down the field to celebrate with the receiver who caught it. She also knew the down home, humble look of the boy from the Midwest. That was the persona Dalton projected on draft night two months before, when he made virtually every football fan in St. Louis fall in love with the new face of the Sting.

    Cayt had to admit it was a handsome face—after all, Dalton was been her first crush—but that didn’t mean she was happy to see him standing in the doorway of her parents’ home for first time in almost four years.

    She wished he would have stayed away, but here he was, a grin on his face. Cayty, is that really you?

    It’s just Cayt now, but yes, it’s me. She didn’t return the smile.

    Just Cayt, Dalton repeated, nodding his head. I’ll try my best to remember that. You really are all grown up now, aren’t you?

    Yes. That tends to happen when you stay away for several years. If anything, Dalton was even more handsome than he’d been the last time she saw him, but Cayt no longer crushed on her older brother’s best friend. No. That all died the day didn’t even bother to show up to say goodbye to Caylor.

    I’ve been busy, Dalton said, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Winning a couple of national championships and all that.

    Yeah. Too busy to show up for your best friend’s funeral. Cayt didn’t bother to keep the snark from her tone.

    We had a game against Ohio State. Dalton’s eyes went to the ground instead of looking at her. Was he ashamed? Did he have regrets? If so, it was a start.

    So, let your back-up play. He probably would’ve been thrilled to get the opportunity, Cayt said. And I doubt he would’ve fared any worse than you. She still remembered Dalton’s stats in that game." 12 of 32 for only 102 yards and three interceptions in a 24-3 loss to the Buckeyes. At the time, Cayt thought it was poetic justice.

    That’s fair, Dalton said. I should’ve let Hunter play that game. My head clearly wasn’t in it. Hindsight. Now he looked up at her. Can I come in? Is your mom home?

    Yes, she’s home. As if on cue, she heard her mother’s voice behind her.

    Who’s at the door, and why are you still standing there? And then, Oh my goodness! Dalton!

    Hello, Mrs. Duhamel. He extended a hand. How have you been?

    Seriously? Did he ask that? Cayt quietly seethed.

    Oh, you know. Some days good. Some bad. It’s a process. Now her mother sounded like a shrink. Cayt barely contained her eye roll. Would you like to come in?

    Noticing Dalton’s hesitation, Cayt sent him another glare for good measure. Maybe he’d get the hint. Her mother might be interested in playing gracious host, but Cayt wasn’t. Fortunately, Dalton shook his head.

    No, thanks. I should get going. I just wanted to stop by and say hello, and offer my condolences in person, he said. I miss Caylor every day.

    We all do. Thank you, Dalton.

    Thankfully they kept the small talk short, and soon he was gone. Cayt let out a sigh of relief as she closed the door.

    What was that all about? her mother asked.

    Right? He has some nerve showing up here now.

    That’s not what I meant, Caytlyn. Why were you so rude to him? He’s your brother’s best friend.

    My brother is gone.

    "Yes, he is, but that’s not Dalton’s fault. He didn’t make Caylor wash the pain meds

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