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“There’s the man of the hour!” a man with snowy white hair exclaimed as he clapped me on the arm. “Welcome.”
From across the room, Coach Tyson picked up on my confusion and mouthed, “Joseph Elias.”
Fuck, I should have known that. He was the goddamn owner of the team. “Mr. Elias—”
“Excellent game today, T.J.,” he said, leading me across the ornate ballroom. “You really take after your old man, don’t you? Williams and Tyson knew what they were doing when they snagged you. Seattle’s loss is our gain. It’s only Week 3 and you boys are playing like you’re reading each other’s minds.”
I looked around the crowded room. Seth was flirting it up with a girl who looked barely legal. He was dripping in ice, looking like a two-bit rapper.
“Are, uh…” Fuck. I needed my boys. “Will Gideon be joining us tonight?” I knew the answer, but it made me look like a team player.
Mr. Elias chuckled. “Be straight with me. He’s not the one you have your eye on.” I didn’t have a damn clue what the old badger was getting at until he pointed a wrinkled finger across the room. “Seems you two have been better for business than a winning season. Touchdowns don’t make money. Network ratings make our world go ’round.”
Holy shit.
Wren was sipping on a cocktail as she talked to a woman whose salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a low bun. Wren’s ankles were crossed, as if standing on skyscraper stilettos was no big deal after four hours of straight cardio. Her blonde hair was in an ornate braid, circling her head like a Grecian crown. The dress she had traded her Ladies in Red uniform for looked like champagne dripping off her skin. The high neckline gave the appearance of modesty while the back dipped into a scandalous V down her spine. Threads of gold and iridescent pearl hung off her shoulders like a backward necklace.
She was glittering and regal.
The full skirt swished around her calves as she turned to the side, revealing a slit that split her dress halfway up her thigh. A mile of long, tan leg peeked out, teasing me.
Another woman, with jet black hair and sun-kissed skin a few shades lighter than mine, sided up to Wren and spoke quietly in her ear. Wren’s eyes immediately cut to me. From an outsider’s point of view, she was every bit the poised and graceful team ambassador. But I caught the dilation in her pupils. The way her lips parted. The slight flex of her fingers along the stem of her aperitif glass.
My little bird had something to ’fess up to.
“Come on, T.J.,” Mr. Elias said before slapping his hand across my back and leading me across the room. “I’ll do you a solid and give you a chance to talk to the lovely Miss Porter again.”
“I shouldn’t bother her—”
He waved his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. All those rules. But you wouldn’t say no to your boss, now, would you?” There was a devilish gleam in his gray eyes.
I followed, not wanting to piss my boss off. We passed Coach Tyson, and I gave him a shrug. What am I supposed to do?
Coach returned my shrug with one of his own and turned back to his conversation. It was an organization event after all. It would be rude not to say hello after we had been so publicly thrust together.
“Darling,” Mr. Elias said, and I realized he wasn’t talking to Wren. He was speaking to the older woman. “This is the winning ticket I stole out from under Abernathy,” he said, bringing me into the conversation. Mikhail Abernathy was the owner of the team I played for in Seattle. “T.J. Bryant Jr., meet my better half, Darlene.”
Darlene turned and looked me up and down. “Well, I’ll be. No wonder you passed out, Wren! One look at him has me feeling a little lightheaded, too!” She offered a cordial handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bryant. Welcome to our home. I was just having a lively discussion about an O’Keeffe that I procured at auction.” She motioned to Wren. “Miss Porter was giving me her advice on which room would be best to hold such an auspicious piece.” My little bird was doing her best to keep from laughing. “She’s a highly sought-after interior designer with a prestigious firm. I’ve been trying to get her to update this place for years!” Darlene threw up her hands as if the opulent hundred-million-dollar mansion was a shabby farmhouse.
Wren smiled. “And I’m going to keep saying no because everything is perfect as it is. I wouldn’t dare touch a thing.”
I chuckled. “I think I’d take Miss Porter’s advice. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Elias.”
The two richest people that I had ever been around excused themselves to keep floating among their guests. The tall, dark-haired woman standing beside Wren gave a slow, dramatic clap. “Well done, you two.” Her smirk curled up one side of her mouth.
Wren bit her lip and eyed the pointed toes of her high heels, snickering under her breath.
“Nice to meet you, boyfriend,” the woman said with an outstretched hand. “I’m the best friend.”
I cut my eyes at Wren, who shrugged. “She guessed.”
“Pshh, I didn’t have to guess. The way he looks at you when he’s on the field and you’re on the sidelines?” She fanned herself. “You two are about as subtle as the Hindenburg.”
Wren rolled her eyes. Under her breath, she made the introduction. “Tatum, Jewel. Jewel, Tatum.”
I gave her a chin tip. Jewel moved from Wren’s side and stood between us. A three-way conversation was less suspicious than a two-on-one. I looked down at Wren’s knee and frowned. “Where’s your brace? You know you’re supposed to ice and elevate after a game.”
Jewel snorted. “I like him.”
