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“Me too.”
She gives me a small wave and heads down the field to where some of the players are huddled on the sidelines.
I can’t stop smiling. Things are better than I expected for my first day.
“Heads up!” someone screams.
I look to the field where Brady is rushing toward me with his arms out. I step aside as the ball whistles past me.
Brady comes to a stop in front of me. “Sorry, Shayna. Burrows thinks he’s on the playground.”
Someone behind us tosses him the ball and he jogs back onto the field with it. My gaze goes to Lee, who’s staring at me, but I can’t make out his expression because of his helmet. Doesn’t matter though. That man has epic control of the ball when it leaves his hands, so he threw it in my direction to get my attention. How immature.
Maybe things aren’t going as well as I thought.
Five
Lee
The guys and I meet up at my condo and have a couple of drinks before we head to the nightclub Brady arranged a private table for us at. The man is right, he has connections. He got us into Noveau, the hottest spot in the San Fran
Truth be told, I’d rather be lying on my couch and doing nothing. Training camp is kicking my ass, even with our shortened day today, but I made the plans and I never back out.
Plus, I can never admit that my invitation to Brady had more to do with saving face in front of Shayna than anything else. Not that I was lying. I do need to get to know the guy better and trust him.
The dark SUV drops us off in front of a nondescript building. If it weren’t for the long line of people and the low thumping bass emanating from inside, no one would give it a second glance. There’s no sign, no advertisement. Just a massive Gothic-looking door with a bunch of bouncers who look like they could be linebackers on the Kingsmen.
“This is Nouveau?” I ask Brady as I slide out onto the sidewalk.
“Yeah. I think it’s a play on the term nouveau riche,” he says. When my forehead wrinkles, he continues. “Cole Webber owns it. He’s like a pseudo uncle to me. His wife is best friends with my stepmom… long story.” He waves me off. “Anyway, I think it’s sort of like a fuck you to his father because he left the family business and made his own money.” Brady shrugs.
Cole Webber is his pseudo uncle? Well, shit. The Webbers own half the restaurants and bars in the Bay area. Cole Webber owns Hard Rock Whiskey, a staple in every club from here to New York.
“Looks like it’s doing well.” I glance at the long line.
“We’re not gonna have to wait in that fucking line, are we?” Chase asks, following my line of vision.
Chase Andrews is the tight end for the Kingsmen, and he’s been his usual grumpy self all night.
“No way. Banks hooked us up, didn’t you?” Miles clamps him on the shoulder.
“You know it.” He nods toward the bouncer.
While they exchange a few words, the people in line start to recognize us and call out our names.
“This is the year, Burrows!”
“Banks is our Golden Ticket!”
“Can I have your number, Miles?”
“Marry me?”
“Who?”
“Any of them,” a girl says and the crowd laughs.
We all give a smile and a wave before we’re ushered inside by one of the bouncers.
