Usually in this situation, Griffin might offer to pull out her chair, as he was taught to do growing up for any female guest, but he abandons that concept swiftly. He needs tomoveawayfrom anything that could be interpreted as him pushing romance on Aria. He swallows hard.
At least she’s being a good sport about it.
Griffin slides into a seat across the table. “I’m hungry too. Enzo will be out any minute with the pizzas—a variety. I kid you not, despite the fact that the interior designer made it very cozy in here, it’s usually greasy tabletops, slopped drinks, and burly guys shoulder to shoulder. Zero candles, zero fuss.”
Aria looks up, and the candlelight illuminates her face, adding to the natural warmth that exudes from her and highlighting the brightest streaks of almost silver in her curls. Her cheeks glow.
His heart picks up.
“I like this version,” Aria says.
A voice calls out from the short hallway to the kitchen. “You here, Griff?” Enzo appears right after his greeting, a pizza tray balanced on each hand.
Griffin stands to greet his friend, and after Enzo slides the trays onto the tabletop, they clap hands and pull into a hug, back slaps exchanged.
“You’re looking good this season,” Enzo says.
He looks like his older brother—just smaller. He has dark eyes and hair, olive skin. He’s fit, but with a mostly average build. Running this place has become a version of being a private chef for the team. Enzo feeds them well but focuses on using quality ingredients and packing in protein wherever possible. In exchange, they pitch in to keep him paid at a good rate.
Griffin glances at the pizzas. “Your work this season doesn’t look too shabby either.”
Enzo laughs. “The rookies came in for the first time the other night. Wide eyes all around, I tell you.Wide eyes.” Enzo’s pride is obvious in his words, and Griffin feels himself swell along with him.
The conversation slows, and both men look to Aria.
She holds out a hand. “Aria. Wide-eyed rookie.”
Enzo does a double take. “As in Aria Wilder?” His eyes open as far as humanly possible.
Griffin laughs. “Now it’s your turn to be ‘wide-eyed rookie,’ Enzo. Yes, this is Aria Wilder. She and I are friends.”
“My daughter is a massive fan,” Enzo says. “I think you’re great too. Just, you know, not screaming and crying in the front row like my little Rosie.”
“Hey, man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Griffin says.
Enzo laughs. “Never say never. I’ll bring out some water for you, Griff. Aria, anything else to drink? Wine?”
“I don’t want to tempt the professional athlete, so I’ll stick to water too.”
Enzo pours from the carafe into both glasses. “Just holler if you need anything else. I’ll be in the back.” He turns and leaves the room.
Griffin settles back at the table. “Can I serve you?”
Aria giggles as she reaches for a slice of pepperoni and slides it onto her plate. “I’m not that high maintenance, you know. Even if the media would have you think so.”
“I know. It’s not that. I just try to take care of the people in my life.”
Aria pauses to finish her bite. “I’m not surprised since getting to know the other side of you.”
“The other side of me?” Griffin takes a hearty bite and groans.
“You’re right—the pizza’s incredible. But the other side of you is obvious.”
Griffin chews and pulls his eyebrows together. He’s always been football, and football has always been him. Griffin Hayes starts and ends with football. Sure, he’s a real person in the uniform, the same one who hits the field, but he’s never had much to offer beyond that.
“You’re thoughtful, kind, relatable, empathetic. Anytime we’ve done a gig together, you’ve looked out for me. I saw you on TV stop for every single kid. You were the only player out there still signing when the others hit the locker room.”
Griffin shrugs. “It’s not that special. But I do like to make sure to never leave a kid disappointed if I can help it. Most of the time it’s a signature that takes a few seconds of time, and it means the world to them.”
