Realistically, Tate should have guessed that the likelihood of two old guys with too many opinions walking up to him back-to-back was unlikely. In his defense, it had felt like they had been coming at him nonstop lately, so hearing a woman's voice caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to respond before chuckling softly, giving her a small shrug. "Not much difference, for the record," he pointed out before turning to face her. "What was your thing? Cheerleader? Or dance team? Legs like those don't come naturally," he said, looking her legs over slowly before returning her smile. "I get it, football is everything in this town, but that's what they seem to forget. I get it. I lived it, day in and day out, for years. It's not like I'm some guy who just rolled in with high hopes, y'know? That jersey those guys wear? I wore that jersey, I was those guys. I'm still that guy, really, even if I'm not playing on the field anymore. That doesn't just go away."
Frankie raised an eyebrow as she sat down next to him. "Good to know." She looked over. "You make it a habit to just look at women's legs often?" She smirked. "I was in the band, you know, lots of marching around and all of that. But it's been a hot minute since I was in high school." She said and listened to him. "Maybe that's the problem, they are expecting you to come in and immediately turn the team around because of your talent you had when you played, assuming you were actually good. They assume you can come in and then get immediate change instead of letting you have the time needed to make changes."




















