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Words to live by.
I’ve got on trim trousers, a fashionable button-up shirt that hugs my arms in all the right places, and a smile that says I’m hoping Nate’s still single.
Oh, and that I’m completely chuffed to be working together and all that.
Obviously.
Sarah nudges me as we walk, reading my mind. “I’m pretty sure he’s still single,” she whispers.
“But what if he’s not?” I whisper back. “What if he thinks I’m stalking him? Or clingy?”
She pats my arm, smirking. “Look at you. I’m sure he’ll be as excited to see you as you are to see him.”
Doubtful. Is it possible someone could be this excited?
When I reach the entrance to the locker room, my stomach is a tight knot of nerves.
Then it flips when I see Nate standing in the middle of a clutch of big, sweaty players.
I try to fight off a grin, but it’s useless.
His eyes find mine and his gaze is inquisitive. His eyes say what are you doing here and come over tomorrow.
At least, I hope they do.
Because I just discovered that I like jocks even more when they’re sweaty and dirty and all banged up after a football game.
Also, that beard is new, and I approve.
A pretty blonde introduces herself as Reese Kingsley, head of PR, then presents the players—Jason McKay the quarterback, Xavier Walters the cornerback, as well as another receiver, Devon, and a tight end, Orlando, then Coach Tierney. Finally, she gestures to the guy I already know. “And this is Nate Chandler, a wide receiver who’s having a hell of a season,” Reese says.
Ilene shakes his hand first. “So nice to meet you. Big fan, big fan. Absolutely love this team. We’re so excited to be working with you,” she says, apparently turbo-charged from her evening carrot snack.
Sarah says hello, then it’s my turn, and I hold out my hand. Nate takes it, his blue eyes locked on mine.
“Nice to meet you, Hunter,” he says, like he’s enjoying our secret.
“And you too, Nate,” I say.
He lingers, squeezing my fingers longer than necessary.
That’s a helluva sign. A great sign.
I want to tug him into that nook over there at the end of the hallway and ask the questions filling my head. Did you get my text and what are you doing tomorrow and how the hell do you look so fucking good?
But everyone’s talking and I don’t get a chance to steal a minute.
Then, Reese tells the players, “All right. I’m sure the guys want to shower and head home.”
I whimper inside. I want to watch him shower.
Ilene waves goodbye to the Hawks. “We’ll see you in London soon. Cheers and carry on,” she says, then she spins around, flashes a big smile at Reese, Sarah, and me. “It’s the London crew. Why don’t we head to dinner to The Happy Cow? I’ve been dying to try the kale burger.”
I’m torn. I’m still so damn new at Webflix, and I don’t want to misstep, especially in front of an exec like Ilene.
But this might be my chance to make plans with Nate. And I’ve got speed on my side. As Ilene peels away to chat with Reese, I snag my moment. “Be right back,” I whisper to Sarah.
“I’ll cover for you,” she says.
“You’re the greatest friend,” I say.
I hurry after him. “Do you have a second?”
Nate’s lips twitch. “Yes.”
As we move several feet away from others, Jason exchanges a look with Nate—a look that means I’m pretty sure Jason knows who I am. Maybe it’s even a go for it type of look?
Yeah, I bet it is.
I am such a glass-full person, it’s dangerous. But exciting too, especially when Nate and I stop at the corner. His smile spreads, like an invitation, then he says, “So I was going to—”
“I texted you before the game,” I blurt out. Oh, shit. He just said something and I was so eager I cut him off. “Oh, sorry. You were going to say something?”
“It’s okay. You go first,” he says, eager too. “Your text?”
“I sent you,” I say quickly.
“I haven’t checked my phone yet.” He reaches for his pocket then laughs when he realizes his mistake.
“I only learned five hours ago that I’d be here tonight. Webflix wants to put me on pre-game coverage when I return to London on Saturday. I’m going to be slammed the whole week working and I’m sure you are too. But if there’s a god of hot, sexy, single men, you’ll be free tomorrow,” I say with my best cheeky grin.
His instant smile is straight out of my dreams, but a moment later his face falls in genuine disappointment. “Shoot, Hunter. I’m going to Vegas tomorrow—meeting a bunch of buddies there to see a concert before I head to Europe.” He pauses, assessing me, then glances around and drops his voice. “But what about tonight?”
