Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Books by K.T. Quinn

  1 - Taylor

  2 - Taylor

  3 - Brody

  4 - Taylor

  5 - Taylor

  6 - Brody

  7 - Taylor

  8 - Brody

  9 - Taylor

  10 - Taylor

  11 - Brody

  12 - Taylor

  13 - Brody

  14 - Taylor

  15 - Brody

  16 - Taylor

  17 - Taylor

  18 - Brody

  19 - Taylor

  20 - Taylor

  21 - Brody

  22 - Taylor

  23 - Brody

  24 - Brody

  25 - Brody

  26 - Taylor

  27 - Taylor

  28 - Taylor

  29 - Taylor

  30 - Brody

  31 - Brody

  32 - Taylor

  33 - Taylor

  34 - Brody

  35 - Taylor

  36 - Taylor

  37 - Brody

  38 - Taylor

  39 - Brody

  40 - Taylor

  41 - Brody

  42 - Brody

  43 - Taylor

  44 - Taylor

  45 - Brody

  46 - Taylor

  47 - Brody

  Epilogue

  Bonus Chapter

  Sneak Peek - Third and Long

  Sneak Peek - Yours Forever

  About the Author

  Tight End

  A Sports Romance

  Copyright © 2022 K.T. Quinn

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.

  Edited by Gail Gentry

  Follow me on social media to stay up-to-date on new releases, announcements, and prize giveaways!

  www.ktquinn.com

  Books By

  K.T. Quinn

  Only You

  Make You Mine

  Yours Forever

  First Down

  Tight End

  Third and Long (MAR 2022)

  1

  Taylor

  The first day on a new job always made me nervous.

  Okay, so today wasn’t the real first day I was teaching at the University of Utah. That wasn’t until next week, when the summer semester began. But today was the first day I was actually here, walking around the paleontology department!

  I hefted my leather briefcase—every new professor had to have a briefcase!—and gazed around the building. Utah wasn’t as old as some of the Ivy League schools in the northeast, but it still felt old. At least, the paleontology department did. Dark wood walls and waxed floors. Oil paintings on the walls. The scent of old books hanging thickly in the air.

  I had uprooted my life to come here. My career at UC Davis was slowly building momentum—going to all the right faculty parties, becoming best friends with the department chair. My class enrollment was high. I wasn’t teaching the courses I really wanted to, but tenure was on the horizon.

  But then this position came along. And I couldn’t pass it up.

  And against all odds, I was selected.

  My heels echoed through the empty halls as I made my way to the faculty offices. The lights were on inside, so I let myself in. I smiled at the names on the offices. There were a lot of big-time archeologists at Utah. John Conningsworth. Lamar McHolmes. Even Topher Holkins, who had been digging up dinosaur bones since before my mother was born.

  Seeing their names reiterated that my move was a good one. This was the right career path for me.

  At least, I hope so.

  When I reached the Dean’s office, I found the door open and a man seated behind the desk. He had sheet-white hair and a healthy number of wrinkles on his face, and he blinked from behind his spectacles as I knocked.

  “Dean Armbruster?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, dear, but my office hours are over,” he replied absently. “If you have a question about your final exam, you may bring it up at the assigned meeting time next week.”

  He thinks I’m a student. I knew plenty of people who would have taken offense at that, but I chose to live my life with overwhelming positivity. I did look young, especially compared to Armbruster himself.

  “I’m not a student.” I strode forward and extended my hand. “I’m Taylor Fox. The new associate professor in your department.”

  He slowly shook my hand and frowned. “You’re Professor Fox?”

  I knew that look. He thought I was a man. It wasn’t the first time someone had made that assumption, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the last.

  But like I said: I was an extremely positive person. I wasn’t going to let myself get rattled five seconds after meeting my new boss.

  “I sure am!” I said. “Please call me Taylor.”

  “I apologize if I appear flustered,” he said while shuffling papers. “I have never heard of a woman named Taylor before.”

  I grinned. “Not a fan of T-Swifty?”

  He stared at me in confusion. “Pardon me?”

  Note to self: don’t make Taylor Swift references to your older colleagues.

  “Nothing, it was a silly joke. I just wanted to tell you I’m thrilled to be working in your department,” I said. “To teach alongside greats like Holkins and Conningsworth… It’s a dream come true.”

  Dean Armbruster nodded once and bluntly said, “It should be.”

  When he didn’t offer any other comment, I went on, “In your email, you mentioned giving me a tour of the science buildings. I’d love to acquaint myself with the radiological dating facility, if you have the time.”

  “Unfortunately, Ms. Fox, I am quite busy grading papers,” he said, like a drowning man grasping for a life jacket.

  “But you said we need to have my photo taken, for the department website,” I insisted.

  “It’s only May,” he said. “You aren’t teaching any real classes until the fall, so we can take care of all those minor details then. But for now, I really must return to my own work…”

  Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door and another elderly man in a tweed jacket poked his head in. “You ready for some trivia tonight?”

  Dean Armbruster grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I can’t wait to wipe the floor with the Social Sciences department.” After a moment of awkwardness, he added, “John, this is one of our new associate professors.”

  “John Conningsworth,” he introduced, stepping inside to shake my hand.

  I struggled to contain my enthusiasm. “I know who you are, sir! I practically worshiped your publication on the benefits of nitrogen dating compared to carbon. I’m Taylor Fox.”

  Sam’s smile slipped. “I thought Professor Fox was a man. No offense, of course.”

  “None taken! I get that a lot.”

  “Your office is next to mine,” John said. “If you ever need an afternoon pick-me-up, I have an espresso machine that is better than anything you’ll get in the faculty lounge. How’s it feel to move up from UC Davis to the big leagues?”

  “I’m nervous, but excited!”

  “Welcome aboard.” He looked back at the Dean. “I’ll see you there tonight?”

  “Don’t be late,” Dean Armbruster replied. “Last time I had trouble saving you a seat.”

  John glanced at me. “The paleontology department does Tuesday trivia every week at a local bar. We usually win…” He swung his eyes back at the Dean.

  “So I mistook Macedonian history with Romanian,” Dean Armbruster said, rolling his eyes. “That mistake shall not happen again, I assure you.”

  I smiled and waited for them to invite me. The seconds ticked off on the antique clock on the Dean’s wall. When neither man said anything, I leaped headfirst into the silence.

  “I would love to come! Even if you don’t want me to play, I can watch. I’ll buy the first round for everyone.”

  “That’d be lovely,” John replied with a warm smile. “See you there, Taylor.”

  He left, and I turned back to the Dean. “I hope I’m not being rude by inviting myself along. I love trivia—I’m a big Jeopardy fan. It’s not the same without Alex Trebek, but I still tune in every night!”

  “Not rude at all,” Dean Armbruster said, but his tone contradicted his words. “We meet at a bar called Tommy’s at six. It’s about a mile west of here, near downtown.”

  “Thank you so much! I can’t wait. And like I said, the first round is on me.”

  I gave him a friendly wave and left his office, content that I was going to make some new friends tonight.

  2

  Taylor

  I found my office next to John Conningsworth’s. There wasn’t a window, but the walls were made from dark wood and the desk looked ancient and regal. I ran my fingertips over the surface, which was smooth from decades of use.

  “The big leagues,” I said, thinking about what Conningsworth had said. That’s how this felt compared to my old position at UC Davis.

  I went out to my car to retrieve my box of belongings, then unpacked. I didn’t have a lot of things. A desk-sized model of a stegosaurus skeleton, pieced together with wire. A framed photo of me and my parents at a cheerleading competition when I was nine. A handful of academ
ic awards I had earned at Stanford, including the Prestigious Award for Scientific Excellence.

  After that, I opened my laptop and spent some time reviewing the syllabus for my summer class. I was only teaching one class this summer, then two in the fall semester, followed by three in the spring. And the summer class didn’t begin for another week. But now that I was here, sitting in my office, I wanted to do some work! Even if it meant reformatting the syllabus from Arial font to Times Roman, and back again.

  I left campus and went to Panera Bread for dinner. Not very fancy, I know, but they have really good bread bowls! I also felt comfortable eating dinner by myself there, whereas at a real restaurant I would feel awkward and alone. I still hadn’t made any friends since moving to Salt Lake City.

  But that was going to change tonight. I was going to meet some of my colleagues! With luck, some of them would be closer to my age. People I could become friends with, like back at UC Davis.

  I got to the bar, Tommy’s, at five minutes to six. My dad always said that if you weren’t early, you were late! The bar was mildly crowded, but I didn’t see anyone who looked like they were from the paleontology department. Since I was the first one there, I grabbed a large high-top table in the corner of the room, with a good view of the screen where the trivia would be played.

  When the waitress came around, I ordered a blonde ale and told her to start a tab for everyone at the table. “When does trivia start?” I asked.

  “Trivia starts at seven.” She pulled out a paper scorecard and handed it to me. “No cheating. Had a problem with people looking up the answers on cell phones last week. If we see it, we’re kicking you out.”

  “No problem!” I said. “The group I’m with are all college professors. You probably know them—they said they come here every Tuesday.”

  She grunted a noncommittal answer and then retrieved my beer. I smiled as I took a sip. If trivia didn’t start until seven, that meant I had plenty of time to talk to the rest of the faculty members. And if I got to play, I knew I would impress them with my knowledge.

  Things are looking up!

  I was soon disillusioned with that notion.

  Even though the Dean said they were meeting at six, I didn’t see anyone who looked like they would fit the bill. The bar began to fill up, but it was mostly a younger crowd.

  When a man in a tweed jacket walked in, I practically jumped up and ran to him. “Hi! Are you a professor at Utah?”

  The man recoiled like I was a dog who was going to attack him. “Professor? I’m in real estate.”

  “Oh. Sorry!”

  I slumped back over to my table and waited some more. Did I have the right place? The Dean definitely said Tommy’s, and a quick internet search showed this was the only bar with that name. Maybe he had the time wrong. He might have meant seven instead of six, especially since that’s when trivia actually began. I shot him an email just to be sure.

  By six forty-five, I was getting desperate. I asked every new patron if they were from the paleontology department. I even went around to the existing tables to make sure I hadn’t missed them. I began to feel like a hobo asking for change.

  The Dean hadn’t responded to my email, so I looked up a few of the other department professors on the faculty website and sent a group email to all of them, asking if I had the right place for trivia.

  My infinite well of optimism was starting to run dry. Other tables filled up with trivia teams. Some even wore matching shirts with cheesy names like Trivia Triumvirate.

  And then there was me, sitting at a big table all by myself. The sad girl who was stood up.

  They’re not coming.

  I was beginning to wonder if I should bail on the whole night. It would be easier to slip out now than when trivia had already started. Less embarrassing, too. Then I could go be sad at home without an audience.

  I was about to close out my tab when Brody Carter, a man I had never met, came up to me.

  3

  Brody

  To me and most of the other guys on the Stallions, the off-season meant one thing.

  Getting laid.

  I kept my powder dry during the regular season, so to speak. I’d been doing that way back since college, when Dallas Lockett and I made the pact while playing for the University of Texas.

  (Hook ‘em horns!)

  No romance during the season. No booty calls. No distractions. It was the only way to make sure we focused on football.

  That philosophy had served us well. We dominated in college. Now we were dominating at the professional level. I thrived when I didn’t have those kinds of distractions in my life. My momma had a lot of sayings, and one of them was: don’t mess with a good thing.

  But don’t you worry, now. I made up for it plenty in the off-season.

  Now, before you go judging me, take a breath and put yourself in my shoes. I was rich. I was pretty damn famous. And, pardon my ego, I was a charismatic sumbitch. Even before I was known for my skills between the yard sticks, I could sit down with a girl and get her number within ten minutes, guaranteed.

  So, yeah. I could get just about any girl I wanted. And after voluntary celibacy between September and January, I was ready to blow off a lot of steam once spring rolled around.

  The whole offense took a trip to Key West every February, once the season ended. A week of drinking, partying, and meeting the kinds of women that didn’t exist in Salt Lake City. Normally, I loved the yearly trip.

  But Dallas, my wingman, wasn’t with us this year.

  For one thing, he was recovering from shoulder surgery. It was tough to double-fist margaritas when one arm was in a sling. Not to mention all the other physical activity he needed an extra arm for.

  That was only a minor reason, though. The main reason he wasn’t with us?

  Kim Dresden.

  One morning, I got a coffee from the resort bar and sat out by the pool. As I watched the sunrise, I checked Instagram. Dallas’s feed was full of photos of the two of them together. Watching the new James Bond film at the movie theater, Dallas’s good arm around the blonde woman while she fed him a fistful of popcorn. The two of them making breakfast. A video of Kim helping Dallas exercise with only one good arm, doing a series of dumbbell workouts.

  I couldn’t be happier for Dallas. He was my best friend, and my absolute favorite person on God’s green earth. If he was happy, then I was too.

  But it did make me wonder about our no-romance-during-the-season policy. The two of them had been sneaking around together since October, and it hadn’t negatively affected his performance. Hell, he had the best year of his career. Dallas was better with Kim in his life.

  Was I missing out?

  By day three of the Key West trip, I had gotten my fill. There was only so much drinking and partying you could do before it got boring. Especially at my ancient age of twenty-eight. I couldn’t party like I could when I was a fresh college kid. So when the trip finally ended and we got to go home, I felt relieved.

  Salt Lake City was kind of shitty in the winter. It was bone-cold and snowed nearly every week. I was used to mild winters back home in Texas, where I grew up. Sixty degree days in December? Yes ma’am, I’ll take that every day and twice on Sunday.

  But Salt Lake City was beautiful in the summer, which made up for the winters for sure. Whenever I retired, I wanted to own two homes. I would spend summer here in Utah, then head back to Texas for the winter months.

  As the off-season progressed and the weather warmed up, I kept up with my training religiously. I went for a run every morning with my dog Luna, who was a husky and needed to let out some energy. I met with the new Stallions trainer, who was kind of a dweeb, but he was friendly enough and cared about my training.

  Occasionally, I got lunch with my buddy Dallas. But he was busy with his new girl most days. And once again, it made me wonder if I was missing out on something special.

  One day in May, my buddies Kincaid and Double-D (his real name was Doug Dunlap) invited me out to a playoff game against the Dallas Mavericks. “Hell yeah,” I replied. “A chance to see my boy Luka in action? Count me in.”

  My buddies had tickets in a suite. Double-D liked suite tickets because they had all-you-can-eat food, and he could put away five or six plates of whatever was being served. But I never liked the food at those kinds of events, so as I walked to the game from my downtown penthouse, I was looking for something to eat before getting there.