His brows bent together. “What’s his name?”
The question hit me sideways. I nearly tripped over my damn feet.
I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking of a name. Why was it so damn hard?
“Um, his name is Tom.”
As soon as I said it, I hated it. Of all the names in the world, I had to use one of the most generic.
His brows furrowed. “Does Tom have a last name?”
Think, Becca. Think.
When I made that little story up, it was to keep myself in check. Now, it was backfiring at the most inconvenient time.
Fuck my life.
“Tucker. He’s an undercover cop.”
There. That should do it. Tom Tucker. If I were going to lie, I might as well go all out. I just hoped that would put an end to this little back-and-forth we found ourselves in. I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep up.
“Wow.” He laughed. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Maybe now he would stop asking me questions that I didn’t know how to answer.
“I guess I’m full of surprises.”
I tried to focus on swaying to the beat of the music, all the while my heart felt one second away from beating out of my chest.
Nate’s eyes dropped briefly to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. His expression softened, while everything else faded into a distant blur. We both stopped moving. Neither one of us said a word. The moment stretched, yet somehow the room felt smaller.
“Excuse me.” A waiter carrying a tray of drinks bumped into us.
We both stepped back at the same time. The voices, music, and clinking glasses broke whatever spell we were under.
Nate ran a hand along the back of his neck, exhaling slowly.
“I guess that’s our cue,” I managed to say, even though I was on the verge of combusting.
“Yeah.” He smiled. That smile didn’t help. Neither did the way his gaze lingered.
I shifted on my feet, scanning the room for an escape route. “I’m going to make a quick call before they serve dinner. Can I meet you at the table?”
“Sure.”
I turned before he could say anything else. I wove through the crowd with my heart still racing and second-guessing if taking on this assignment was a good idea after all.
CHAPTER 11
NATE
Tate Barnes,one of our defensive linemen, was talking to me about his back issues, but I couldn’t focus on a word he was saying. I was concentrating too hard on watching Becca chatting it up with our kicker, Wyatt Turner.
She was by the bar, laughing at something he was saying, and from what I could see, she was listening more than talking.
As for me, I was suddenly regretting my decision to invite her tonight.
It was stupid to feel jealous. She wasn’t mine. She supposedly had a boyfriend. Despite all that, she had made it clear that she was only here for the interview. I shouldn’t be bothered by her being overly friendly with Wyatt, but it didn’t stop my brain from hating seeing them so chummy.
