by KB Winters
I turned my attention back to the field and joined in with the rest of the crowd as the announcer proclaimed the Knights as the winners of the playoff game. Media ascended onto the field, and I watched Ross get plucked up by a blonde reporter with a camera crew. A smile played at my lips as I watched him smile for the camera. Even from my seat, I could see the joy and pride radiating from him. Every few minutes, one of his teammates would walk by and say something or slap him on the ass.
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Men.”
The crowd filtered from the stadium, and I noticed that I was left alone in my section. I wasn’t sure what to do. I could easily slip from the stadium and join the mass exodus to the parking garage, get in my dad’s SUV and drive home. But something was keeping my ass frozen in the seat—and it wasn’t just the cold weather.
Ross left the stadium, and I wondered how long it would take him to shower and change and do the post-game interviews. Surely, it couldn’t take that long. Could it?
I fished my phone out of my purse and pulled up his number on my contacts list. I’d programmed it into my phone even though I hadn’t used it yet. No time like the present, I decided, starting a new text:
Hey, it’s Shelby. Great game! You might make a convert out of me after all. My friend bailed. If you want some company, lmk.
I sucked in a sharp breath as sent it without editing. When my phone buzzed to let me know the message was sent, I got up from my seat and made my way up the stairs. The interior of the stadium was still a madhouse.
The air inside was considerably warmer than the stadium, but it was still chilly. I tugged at the collar of my coat and wished I’d worn a scarf. I certainly hadn’t been prepared for the arctic blast. I passed a coffee cart and got into line behind a few Knights’ fans decked out in team t-shirts, face paint, and hats. They were going on and on about Ross, and I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to their conversation. I knew the pride I felt was a little premature, considering Ross and I had barely spent an hour together, but it felt like something more. Like they were talking about a good friend of mine.
Maybe more.
When I got my cup of coffee, I dumped the change in the tip jar, thanked the girl behind the counter and walked off to get out of the way of the next customer. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I jolted, nearly sloshing the scalding coffee all over myself. I hurried to an empty chair along a long bar and set my coffee down.
Hey! Great! Tell security to point you to the team’s entrance. You’re on my list. I’ll meet you then.
My cheeks warmed as I re-read the message. This was really happening. I was minutes away from having drinks with Ross Leverette! I shook my head, still dazed with disbelief, as I typed back a quick reply:
OMW
I chugged my coffee, searing my tongue, and then chucked the paper cup before rushing off to find security. The first one I found gave me instructions, and I hurried off, stopping in the ladies’ room to check my face and lips. My cheeks and the bottom of my ears were bright red from the cold. Great. I looked like a frozen hot mess all bundled up like a burrito—bet he’ll love that. I rubbed my gloved hands over my cheeks to warm them up and then pulled off my knitted cap.
UGH! My hair was plastered flat on my head and shaped like a beanie. Why did I agree to this? And why did I text him? I could’ve gone home with Rayna, and he would’ve never known the difference.
Damn it!
This was precisely why I hated winter. Chapped lips, static hair, and dry, red cheeks. But there was no backing out now. I slid the beanie back on my head, bundled up, and headed toward the team’s entrance.
When I finally found it, I stopped short. There was a noisy crowd of people who also appeared to be waiting for the team.
A few people passed by, apparently not even seeing me, and I sidestepped at the last second, flattening myself against the wall to avoid getting trampled. That was when I realized that almost every person waiting was a woman, dressed like they were going to a club opening, not a football game. Weren’t they cold? Where did they come from that they didn’t look like there was a blizzard going on outside?
Who the hell were these women? I stayed pressed against the wall and watched them. Were they hookers? Wives and girlfriends of the players? Football groupies? Is that even a thing?
I watched them all clustered together, talking in rapid-fire tones and smiling like they were on stage at the Miss America pageant, and I shrunk back even further. It was like having a flashback to high school. They were the cheerleaders and dance team queens, and I was the nerdy girl with headgear and a pencil case. There wasn’t a question. I simply didn’t fit in with these women. I’d never really wanted to. But at that moment, seeing them all gathered outside the team’s locker room entrance, it struck me with one sickening thought. This is who I’d have to be if I wanted to be with a guy like Ross.
Sure, at Maggie’s he was attainable. Sure, he was heart-stoppingly handsome, but he felt like a regular guy. Approachable and friendly. But here, it was like a kaleidoscope being twisted to change the view, and the picture looked completely different.
Ross had changed into jeans and a long-sleeve deep, scarlet-colored shirt that fit like a glove. His jeans hung low on his hips and fit just right to show off the powerful muscles in his thighs. I thought he was handsome in his uniform, but now he was downright intoxicating.
What the hell was I thinking?
He was smiling for the cameras, being interviewed for Sports Center, surrounded by blonde playboy bunny types who wore designer clothes, had perfect teeth, and looked like the real housewives of Bitsberg.
I took one more look around, my heart sinking lower with every overly make-upped face I saw, and when I’d gone full circle, I pushed off the wall and walked back the way I’d come. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Ross could have his pick of the playboy bunnies gathered outside the locker room. He wouldn’t want a girl like me—and if he did, there had to be something wrong with him.
Was this all some kind of dream? A fantasy I’d concocted for myself? I gnawed on my lower lip, turning over possibilities in my mind. What was Ross really after?
“Shelby! Hey, Shelby!”
I froze at the sound of my name. I knew that voice. Ross.
“Shelby! Wait up!”
I turned around in slow motion, somehow managing to force a smile onto my lips as he jogged over to me with a bright smile of his own. “Hey, Ross. Good game.”
“Wow. Thanks for sticking around. That took forever!”
“Well, you are the star player of the night,” I replied, giving him another easy smile, hoping it masked the mixed-up feelings racing through me.
The other players filtered out into the hallway, most of them with one of the women I’d noted waiting outside the locker room. So, they were wives and girlfriends. None of them gave me a second glance, though some of the players said a final goodbye to Ross as they passed by.
Ross ran a hand over the back of his neck as he watched the last of the parade go by. His hair looked darker than when we’d first met, the dampness still clinging to it from his post-game shower. A vivid image of him soaking wet under the hot spray from the shower rushed over me, and I squeezed my thighs together as I shifted my weight. Keep it together, Shelby.
“Whew. What a night.” Ross said, breathing out a heavy sigh that sounded like it was half exhaustion and half relief.
I smiled up at him. “You did great. You should be really proud.”
“Thanks.” He flashed a warm smile and my eyes went wide. He really was too hot. It wasn’t fair. I’d never been so off-kilter around a guy before. “So, you still up for a drink? There’s this quiet little bar not too far from here.”
I twisted my fingers together in front of me, still unsure what his intentions were, but agreed with a nod. “Sounds good to me. Something to take the edge off the chill.”
From the look in his eyes—there were other ways to warm up on a snowy night.
<
br /> 8
Ross
Scoring the winning touchdown had nothing on the feeling of having Shelby on my arm. There was something about her that made me feel completely comfortable and antsy all at once. She had a strange pull on me that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I wanted to know everything about her now, but I also wanted to relish getting to know her.
“What happened to your friend? I hope you weren’t by yourself for too long,” I said as I stopped to pull open the door for her. The night air instantly whipped at the back of my neck, and I regretted leaving the locker room in such a hurry that I’d left my thick winter coat behind.
Shelby tugged her own coat closer around her body as she stepped through the open door. “She has to work tomorrow and couldn’t stay out too late. She took an Uber home. Rayna doesn’t live too far from downtown.”
Secretly, I was relieved. I wanted Shelby all to myself. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Shelby glanced up at me as we walked down the sidewalk. “Me too.”
God, her smile was addictive. Those lips. The little dimples on either side. Damn. I was a goner. My mind had been racing for days, concocting all kinds of scenarios of how to get her alone. Now, walking down the sidewalk outside the stadium, I had her all to myself. My guts felt like a live wire flailing around, sparks flying everywhere.
Shelby rubbed her gloved hands together as we walked. “Damn, aren’t you cold?”
“I’m freezing. I left my coat to catch you before you left.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want to go back and get it?”
I rubbed my arms quickly, warming them up. “No, I’ll be okay. Ill kick up the heat in the truck.”
“Honestly, I don’t know how you play in the snow and wind like that. I was freezing to death, with a blanket and a coat!” she said with a laugh. “Weather like this is only good for one thing.”
My mind quickly filled in what I’d like to be doing.
“Blanket fort?” I asked, keeping the triple X-rated version to myself.
Shelby laughed. “I was gonna say chillin’ in bed, but yeah, a blanket fort could work too.” She glanced up at me and all the air left my lungs at the mischief sparkling in her dark eyes. “As long as there’s hot cocoa, I’m there.”
I chuckled and dragged a hand through my hair. “Good policy.”
We reached the end of the sidewalk, and Shelby came to a stop a step ahead of me. “Where are you parked?” Shelby asked, scanning the street in both directions. “I’m in that garage over there.”
I followed the direction of her hand before reaching for it. “Well, we’re going that way,” I said, taking her hand and pointing it toward a garage in the opposite corner. “I’m driving.”
“No arguments here. Hopefully, the street sweepers will be out by the time we get back. Even though I grew up here, I still don’t like driving in the snow,” Shelby said, eyeing the road conditions as we went up to the nearest crosswalk.
A few straggling fans were waiting at the light, and I hung back. There were guys on the team who would have loudly announced their presence, creating an opportunity to be rowdy and get compliments, but that was the last thing I wanted, especially in front of Shelby. I didn’t think it would impress her and would only serve to take time away from our night.
“I don’t mind driving you home,” I offered. “If the sweepers don’t make it out in time.”
Shelby looked up at me, her eyes wide. “Guess we’ll see.”
My dick twitched. I needed to step up my game. I wanted to know how gorgeous those eyes would look rolled back into her head, with my name on her lips, while I made her come over and over again. I couldn’t wait to see how the night would end.
“Table for two?”
I glanced over at Shelby at the hostess’ question. We’d only agreed on getting a drink, but the bar entrance was locked, so we had to go around to the main restaurant entrance instead. Before I could ask which she’d prefer, she nodded and offered the young woman a smile. “Please.”
“Right this way,” the hostess said, grabbing two leather-bound menus from the front counter.
“I’ve never been here before,” Shelby said as we walked a few paces behind the hostess. “Wasn’t this a Mexican place?”
“I’m not sure.”
“It’s hard to keep track. The city changed so much while I was away at school.”
The hostess indicated which table was ours, and I stepped forward to pull out Shelby’s chair before the hostess could do it for me. She gave us a smile, deposited the menus, and informed us that our server would be on the way shortly. Shelby shrugged out of her coat, revealing the curves I was fixated on since the first time I saw her at Maggie’s diner. Damn, she was beautiful and in a blue sweater as well—team colors.
“Spirit sweater?”
“What’s that?”
“Your sweater, it’s the same color as the team’s blue.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.” She smiled up at me and caught me checking out her ass before she lowered into her seat. “Thank you.”
I inclined my head and took my seat. “Did you come back often? While you were in school, I mean.”
She shook her head. “Not really. Flights were always really expensive during the holidays. My dad’s a high school principal, and my mom has a part-time job at a craft store, but spends most of her time doing volunteer work. It was a miracle I was able to even come up with the money to go to an Ivy League school.”
“Understandable.” I grabbed a menu and popped it open. I didn’t want to leave too much space for her to ask about my family. It wasn’t fit for a first date kind of conversation. Hell, it wasn’t really fit for any kind of date conversation. “Well, I’ve only been here a few times and can recommend the braised chicken cutlets with the garlic baked potato.”
Shelby smiled at me over the top of her own menu. “Sounds good.”
Our server approached us and we placed our drink orders.
“How long have you been in Bitsberg?” Shelby asked, cocking her head ever so slightly.
“Almost four years.”
“Do you go somewhere else in between seasons?”
I shook my head. “No.”
She gave a slow nod. “Where is your family?”
My heart jumped in my chest. Shelby was circling around the darkest part, poised to ask the questions I didn’t want to answer. I couldn’t sway her in another direction without looking completely shady. Damn it. I swiveled a quick glance around the restaurant, hoping that the server would conveniently come over with our drinks and save me.
Shelby fidgeted in her seat and glanced down. “If you don’t want to—”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m originally from Arizona, and that’s where my mother still lives. As for my dad, well, even I don’t have the answer to that one. He walked out when I was two, and I’ve never heard from him.”
“Oh,” Shelby said, her full lips forming a soft O.
“It’s kind of a fucked up situation, so I don’t really talk about it with people.”
Her eyes flashed with something. Pity? No. Sadness. I hated that I didn’t have a better answer. The normal, Dad and Mom were still together and we spent every holiday together type of story. But no. That dream had been ripped to shreds a long ass time ago. “I’m really sorry, Ross.”
“It’s all right. You didn’t know.” I replied, offering a smile that felt strangled.
“I guess I could have done a more thorough Googling job,” she said, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
I chuckled. “Oh, yeah? Trying to dig up the dirt?”
“I’m a lawyer. Rule number one is to know what you’re getting into.”
My chuckle rolled into a full laugh, and it felt good. Like a heavy weight was starting to lift. I leaned forward, bracing my forearms against the edge of the table. “Fair enough. What did you find out? You’re here, so I assume you didn’t dig up all of my skeletons.”
/> She laughed, and I memorized the sound. It was melodic and unapologetic. The kind of laugh that was impossible to hear and not join in. “Oh, you mean the part where you have three families stashed across the country? No, I found that. I just decided it wasn’t a deal-breaker.”
“Oh, thank God. You’d be surprised how many people are turned off by that,” I fired back, loving the game she’d started.
Shelby flapped a hand, still giggling. “No biggie.”
“What a relief. Since you know all my dirt, how about sharing some of your own? What do I need to know about Shelby Markson? What am I getting myself into?”
Shelby's eyes met mine, a beautiful smile still taking over her face from our banter. “Hmmm,” she started, tapping a finger on her chin. “Should I tell you? Or let you find out for yourself?”
“I think you know which way I’m voting.”
She laughed again. “Honestly? I’m very boring. I’ve spent seven years buried under books, and now, I’m done with school and buried in debt.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, hitching a shoulder. “It’s all right, though. It’ll all be worth it.”
“True. Lawyers probably pay off student loans pretty damn quick.”
“Well, not the ones who work at the public defender’s office,” she quipped.
“Oh?” My eyebrow arched, caught off guard by her statement. Shelby wasn’t flashy or presumptuous, but she carried herself in a way that made it easy to see her as a powerful lawyer. She’d own the courtroom as the star of some downtown firm, wearing her designer suits, eating fancy business lunches. “You’re going to be a public defender?”
She nodded. “That’s the plan once I get my test results back, at least.”
“Why would you want to be a public defender and not a partner at some fancy firm if you don’t mind my asking?”