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“Quarterback.”
“Like Tom Brady?”
He chuckles. “I might have known you’d know who Tom Brady is.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“What position does Wyatt play?”
“He’s a linebacker.”
I screw up my nose. “I have no clue what that is.”
The two-hour drive to Phoenix is spent with Seb and Nash trying to explain the rules of football. With terms like offence and defense, time-outs, end zones, and downs, by the time we get there, I’m more confused than ever. I pretend to understand what they’re saying. I don’t want them to think I’m an idiot. It’s only a football game. It can’t be that difficult to understand. I hope when I’m watching, I’ll know what they’ve been talking about.
“Are you both okay with checking into the hotel and then meeting Wyatt for lunch?” Paisley asks as Nash parks in the hotel parking lot. “I think there’ll be some time for some last-minute Christmas shopping after lunch and before the game.”
“Sounds good to me,” I tell her.
“Lunch sounds good. I might pass on the shopping,” Seb says.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got all your presents for everyone?” I ask in surprise, knowing most guys leave Christmas shopping as late as possible.
He groans. “No. I never know what to buy.”
“I’ll help you. IloveChristmas shopping.”
“Can we find a bar along the way?”
“I second that!” Nash says from the front seat.
Paisley and I laugh, and I look out of the window at the impressive-looking hotel. I’d flown into Phoenix twice in the past few months, but I’d only ever seen the airport. I’m excited to see a little of the city and even more excited to spend some more time with Seb.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Seb
“Just so you know, this isn’t how normal people watch a football game,” Seb says, walking around the private loft space Wyatt has hired for us.
After checking into the hotel and meeting Wyatt for lunch, we spent a few hours shopping in Phoenix, much to Nash and Seb’s dislike, and now we’re at the stadium, waiting for the game to start.
I chuckle. “Normal people?”
“People who aren’t related to the players and have to sit in theregularseats. Usually it’s a hard, plastic chair, a huge foam finger, and a hot dog.”
“That sounds like a true fan experience,” I tell him, walking through the lavish space and out onto the balcony that gives an impressive view of the field. He follows, and I turn to him. “You can’t complain about the view, though.”
“No. These are definitely some of the best seats in the stadium.”
The balcony has large recliner seats facing out over the field, and I sit in one, sinking into the plush material.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks. I look over my shoulder to where Nash and Paisley are investigating what drinks the enormous refrigerator holds. There’s also food laid out on the countertops, even though we ate not long ago.
“Is all that food for us?” I ask, standing and following him inside.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“It must have cost Wyatt a fortune to hire this place.”
