The End Run

By Christy Hayes

Formerly published in 2014 under the title, “A Kiss by the Book,” this book has been extensively revised from the original.

Golden boy, Zach Chamberlain, isn’t the first jock Jenna Peterson’s tutored with cover-boy good looks, and he won’t be the last. When Zach’s storybook life begins to unravel, Jenna discovers he’s more than just a gifted athlete with a pretty face. A sprig of mistletoe and a searing kiss pits the playmaker against the rule maker. When secrets are revealed and the game is on the line, will they follow the game plan, improvise, or make an end run around their hearts?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christy Hayes
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781625720214

Christy Hayes

Christy Hayes writes romance and women's fiction. She lives outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband, two children, and two dogs.

Book preview

Formerly published in 2014 under the title, A Kiss by the Book, this book has been extensively revised from the original.

Tutoring college athletes at Southeastern State University is more than a job for Jenna Peterson; it’s a way to pay it forward after long-ago tragedy struck too close to home. SE State’s golden boy, Zach Chamberlain, isn’t the first jock Jenna’s tutored with cover-boy good looks, and he won’t be the last.

Jenna assumes Zach’s as egocentric as the other athletes on her roster, and a wildly inappropriate and lackluster kiss at the worst possible time doesn’t do much to disprove her theory. But as Zach’s storybook life begins to unravel, Jenna discovers he’s more than just a gifted athlete with a pretty face.

College senior Zach Chamberlain’s charmed life crashes and burns when weeks before a planned proposal his girlfriend dumps him for his younger brother. Shocked, betrayed, and mortally embarrassed, Zach turns to the only woman he can trust: his nerdy tutor. Zach will do anything to save face in front of his family, and he uses Jenna’s bleeding heart and unfortunate circumstances to enlist her help over the holidays.

When a sprig of mistletoe provides the perfect opportunity for Zach to affirm his skill, the searing kiss pits the playmaker against the rule maker in a kiss to the end. When secrets are revealed and the game is on the line, will they follow the game plan, improvise, or make an end run around their hearts?

The sun sat like a giant orange lollipop, blinding Jenna Peterson and casting the tidy interior of Zach Chamberlain’s souped-up, road-eating truck in an unnaturally golden glow. Jenna yanked the visor down and snuck a glance at Southeastern State’s bona fide superstar.

The sun only magnified his gorgeousness and made Jenna even more uncomfortable about agreeing to join him. Yes, she was excited to see her cousin Becky at Addison State University, but spending ten hours roundtrip in the car with the campus darling had her stomach twisted into knots. Her stereotypical reaction to him only upped her irritation.

So. Jenna broke the silence and halted her wandering thoughts. Tell me about this girlfriend of yours.

Emily? A line appeared between Zach’s brows as he squinted into the windshield. She’s beautiful.

Jenna laugh-snorted. Shocker.

He rolled his eyes and scanned the horizon, seemingly wracking his brain for more descriptive adjectives. She’s smart. She’s nice. She’s … pretty.

She’s pretty and beautiful? Wow, I’m impressed. This was good. He was as shallow as she’d pegged him for during their one and only meeting where they’d discussed the logistics of her tutoring him and discovered their mutual plans to visit ASU the weekend before football training camp. His sheen of perfection dimmed with every word from his mouth.

He fisted his hands on the steering wheel. What kind of girl do expect me to date?

The beautiful kind you just described. The kind of girl who was Jenna’s polar opposite. The kind of girl who made Jenna want to sew her academic achievements onto her clothing. The kind of girl who would never look at Jenna and consider her competition. She lashed out at Zach because he’d pinched her Achilles’ heel. I’m curious to see how smart this beauty queen is considering you have the emotional depth of a Q-tip.

What? Zach jerked his head in her direction and lasered her with his baby blues. It was unfair, really, for a guy to have such beautiful eyes.

She pointed out the windshield. You might want to keep your eyes on the road.

He glanced back and stifled a gasp as he whipped the truck out of the way of oncoming traffic. What do you mean I have the emotional depth of a Q-tip?

She felt a twinge of guilt but brushed it away. Does that statement really need clarification?

How would you know anything about my emotional depth? You barely know me.

Fair enough. She drummed her fingers on her legs. I assume you’ve got the emotional depth of a Q-tip. You’ve got almost five hours to prove me wrong. Possibly longer if we run into traffic.

Zach’s jaw ticked and he tensed his shoulders like a dog raising his hackles. The movement made her aware of their size difference. His head perched only inches from the top of the truck, his shoulders wide and powerful, while she sat engulfed by the enormous leather seats. Why don’t we talk about statistics? You’ve got my undivided attention.

Of course he’d divert to statistics. She was his tutor and only his tutor. Just because he’d offered to drive her to ASU didn’t mean they were friends who might have a normal conversation. You want to talk about statistics for hours?

That’s the only reason we know each other. It certainly isn’t because of your sparkling personality.

She deserved the dig, but it still stung. Hey, I’ve got a great personality. Not that he’d know. They’d only met once to put a face to a name and talk about the upcoming semester’s expectations. If you’d rather talk about statistics, that’s fine. But I’d prefer to discuss a topic that won’t put you to sleep behind the wheel.

I’m perfectly capable of discussing statistics without dozing off.

You’d be the first. She reached into the backseat and yanked at her backpack. It didn’t budge. She unbuckled her seatbelt, scooted up on her knees, and braced herself against the seat. With a grunt, she got the bag dislodged enough to heave it into her lap.

You could ask for help, Zach said through gritted teeth.

You’re driving. She settled back into her seat and buckled in, pushing her hair from her face. She unzipped the bag and pulled out a huge textbook.

Zach tried to hide his groan with a cough. You have your textbook with you? Now?

She knew he didn’t want to talk about statistics. I need to get organized for the semester, make some notes and lesson plans. She ignored his scowl and opened the book. How about we review the difference between the Euclidean distance formula and the statistical distance formula?

Jenna could have taken his pulse from the vein that jumped in his temple. She’d called his bluff, and he was stuck. Hadn’t he learned not to joke with a math nerd?

I changed my mind. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to concentrate on something other than the road. It’s getting dark and I need to focus.

I thought so. She stuffed the book into her bag, zipped it closed, unbuckled her belt, and hefted the bag into the backseat. Once she’d settled back in her seat and clicked her seatbelt into place, she grew bored with the passing landscape. What shall we talk about now?

Do we have to talk about anything? How about we listen to music?

I find it easier to tutor when I understand a little about my students. It helps to know what your interests are so I can put my statistical explanations into a context you’d understand. She’d never admit she wanted to know more about him.

I like football.

Yes. Jenna lowered her voice into a sarcastic deadpan. I know. And you’re lucky I have two brothers and am familiar with the game. I assumed you had other interests and we could shake it up a bit. The football analogies are going to get old.

He gave her a sideways glance she felt all the way to her toes. Football analogies never get old.

She blinked forcefully and bit her tongue. He was making this harder than it needed to be.

I don’t have time for other interests. All I do is work out, play football, study football, and go to class.

No wonder you don’t know more about your girlfriend. Jenna cringed as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. She really needed to think before speaking. She reached for the radio dial but stopped when his voice boomed through the cab.

I know plenty about Emily. We’ve dated for almost five years.

Jenna sat back and tucked her hands between her legs. That’s a long time. Her big mouth kept working despite her head telling her to stop. What’s her major?

Zach gripped the wheel even tighter, his knuckles white. Decorating or something like that.

Interior design?

His ears flamed. Jenna found it endearing to see him flustered.

Yeah, that sounds right.

She pursed her lips as he accelerated around an old sedan. He clearly didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend. What are your plans for after graduation?

Get a job.

From his clipped tone, she assumed his post-grad plans were on his not-to-be-discussed list. What kind of job?

The kind that pays. He turned his head and winked, masking his irritation with charm. A lot.

Gosh, with that kind of goal, you shouldn’t have any problems finding a job. She couldn’t have kept the sarcasm from her voice if she’d tried. Did he ever watch the news or read a blog? The odds of getting a good-paying, live-on-your-own job after graduation were as steep as the odds of winning the lottery. Of course, with his good looks and name recognition, he’d probably have his pick from dozens of offers.

Why are you goading me?

She was pushing his buttons in the hopes of breaking through his sheen of perfection. Zach Chamberlain was the most talked about guy on campus. Blisteringly gorgeous, smart and focused, yet he’d never been caught whoring around, drinking too much, or making an idiot of himself. Either he was perfect or SE State’s Athletic Director worked overtime keeping his nose clean. I’m not goading you. I’m making conversation and observations.

I don’t like your tone or your observations.

She twisted to face him. Listen, tutoring takes a lot of my time. Time I could spend studying or hanging out with friends—

You have friends?

She fought back the smile that threatened to emerge. She admired his quick wit. I have a better attitude when I understand my student’s goals. Call it motivation.

Isn’t that what your fee is for? I know you get paid to tutor.

Of course I get paid to tutor. Not everyone is motivated by money.

He snorted with disdain. So you’re a bleeding heart?

No, I simply have a heart. Talking to him was like being with her brothers. Sean would like him. She brushed the unwelcome thought away and continued to dig. Unlike you.

Look, I want to pass the class and graduate so I can get a job. That’s my motivation.

You don’t think you’ll play in the pros?

His lips disappeared into a thin line and he stared straight ahead so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. I might not be good enough to play in the pros.

She chuckled despite the seriousness of his tone. That’s not what I heard. Rumor has it you’re on the Hellman radar.

Yeah, and some Hellman quarterbacks never make it in the pros. I don’t want to play if I can’t compete. He changed his grip on the steering wheel and gunned the engine. I’m not a quitter, but I don’t want to give everything to the game and never see the field.

She recognized the regret and hurt in his voice. He had an astounding sense of self that most top-tier athletes didn’t possess. She swallowed a mouthful of crow. Okay, I admit that statement demonstrates you’re slightly more emotionally mature than I gave you credit for.

Only slightly more mature?

Like I said. She stretched her legs and crossed her arms. You’ve got five hours to prove me wrong.

I can’t believe you agreed to volunteer today. Zach leaned up in bed and let the sheet slip low on his hips.

He’d crawled into bed at just after one—tired and desperate for comfort after an irritating question-and-answer marathon with his tutor. His girlfriend Emily had barely moved, even after he rubbed her thigh and inched his hand under her sleep shirt to play with her breasts.

Emily studied him as if he’d simply materialized in her bed instead of driving half the night to see her. She was dressed and ready to leave, the messenger bag he’d given her for Christmas slung across her chest and her car keys jingling in her hand.

Zach thought of how he’d described her to Jenna. Emily was beautiful with her bright blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and slender body. They’d been so close once, so much in love. Why did she just stare at him like a piece of meat she was passing over in the grocery store? Where were the stars he used to see in her eyes when she looked at him?

It’s a pre-rush event. Emily twisted her hair the way she did when she was nervous. I was going to skip it, but it’s mandatory and I was getting some serious heat from our recruitment chair. I have to go. She shrugged and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. I’ll only be gone a few hours.

He rubbed at the ache in his temple. I’m glad I drove five hours to see you. You were sound asleep when I got here, and now you’re leaving. I’ve got to head back early in the morning for Sunday meetings.

She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on his chest. He leaned back, gave her the look, and knew she couldn’t resist him for long.

Zach, I’m sorry. I’ll make some coffee and put some of those biscuits you like in the oven. I’ll be back before you know it.

What in the world? Emily had always dropped everything for them to be together.

He grabbed her wrist before she could get up. What’s going on with you? Her blank stare and the pull of her arm against his hand spread unease up his spine. Is everything okay?

She only stared at him and gave a slight nod. A thousand questions flew like footballs through his head. He couldn’t stand the distance between them. He’d thought coming to ASU and facing her would make it disappear, but whatever he’d sensed between them this summer was still there, and he didn’t know what to do.

I drove all this way. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you were going to be gone half the time.

He yanked on her hand when she tried to stand. She wasn’t going to leave him in her bed—naked, aroused, worried—and sail off to work on a sorority project when he’d put himself out so they could spend time together. Leaving school—even on an off week—wasn’t a great idea. But he needed a break, he needed to see her before preseason training.

It’s only a few hours. You said yourself you need rest. So rest. I’ll be back before you know it and we’ll have all afternoon. I really want us to talk when I get back.

Something in her face—the way her eyes went flat and cold—caused a truckload of dread to settle in his gut. His trouble meter spiked. He let go of her wrist. We can talk now. This sounds important.

She pushed off the bed and walked to the door, not looking back. Go back to sleep. You won’t even know I’m gone. She closed the door before he could argue.

He stared at the door—the door handle specifically—waiting for it to open. Waiting for Emily to walk back inside her room and tell him she wasn’t going to some stupid sorority thing. Waiting for her to say they’d spend the day together as planned. She would run her hands through his hair and kiss him and tell him everything was fine.

But the door handle didn’t turn. He heard the front door slam shut in her wake.

ZACH WALKED INTO the kitchen wearing a pair of long pajama pants and the T-shirt he’d picked up off the floor. After sitting in Emily’s bed for nearly an hour with questions swirling around his head, he was tired, irritated, and hungry—not necessarily in that order.

He tried to examine whatever was going on between him and Emily logically. He’d asked, point blank, if everything was okay and she’d run out of the room saying they needed to talk. Zach fought the urge to tell her he’d bought her an engagement ring and was plotting the perfect ask. She was going to regret treating him that way when he popped the question and she realized what a grumpy girlfriend she’d been.

Up until the last few months, Emily had always been his rock. Through all the football and all the classes, the late nights, the screaming coaches, the unbearable pressure, she’d been there. When he’d needed someone by his side, there she’d been—playing the part of his faithful sidekick as if following a playbook.

She was his biggest fan, his loudest cheerleader, his most loyal companion. He’d bought her a ring, for goodness sake, and planned to make her his wife. So why did he feel panic and desperation at the idea of her wanting to talk?

Emily’s smoking-hot roommate came out of her room in an all-black outfit. Shelby was everything he disliked in a woman—confident in her beauty, bowing to no one, expecting men to grovel at her feet. Zach had never found her to be anything but annoying. She growled at him and left the apartment.

Reagan, one of Emily’s slightly-less-annoying roommates, drifted out of her room while Zach had his head in the refrigerator. Emily hadn’t made coffee or put his favorite biscuits in the oven. He couldn’t even find the biscuits to put in the oven himself.

Don’t you girls keep any food around here?

Reagan ignored him and filled a coffee pot with water. He could have wept at her overachieving feet.

I see food. She leaned over his shoulder and plucked an apple from the top shelf.

I mean real food. Meat and cheese and bread.

You mean man food. We’re women. She’d never liked him and made no attempt to hide it. We eat fruit and yogurt and cereal.

Where’s the cereal?

She opened a cabinet and waved at a couple boxes with words like bran and oat. Yuck.

No Lucky Charms or Cocoa Krispies? What is this? Prison?

We let you stay here, Zach. The word begrudgingly hung in the air between them, but she impressed him by letting it go unsaid. No one said we had to feed you.

He grunted and examined a box of grains. How did they eat this crap? He shoved it back in the cabinet. Do you know where Emily keeps the biscuits?

Biscuits? Reagan narrowed her eyes in a way that reminded him of his annoying tutor.

With Emily gone and no food in the house, he only had one other option. He reached for his phone and sent Jenna a text. I’ve got the morning free. Can you come over?

Never mind. He winked at Reagan, a move he knew would tick her off. I’ll go get my own breakfast.

Good idea.

His phone dinged as he waited for the coffee. Why?

He typed a quick message. Stop and get biscuits? I’ll pay you back.

I’m your tutor, not your waitress, and I’m halfway to the beach. Get your own breakfast.

Freaking awesome. No breakfast and another heaping helping of sass. He shook his head and reached for a bowl, cursing the women in his life. He didn’t know how Emily could stand to live with a know-it-all like Reagan and a stuck-up diva like Shelby. Kayla, her other roommate, seemed harmless and kind, so he liked her best.

With