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“The Super Bowl?”
“It’s not called that, but yes, essentially.”
“And you won it last year.”
“Made two touchdowns.”
“Impressive.”
Okay, he liked her. But a couple times, his gaze had drifted back inside to where Iris sat at a table, her shoes off.
She’d blown the breath right out of him when she’d walked into the room at the beginning of the night. He’d been talking with Brette and had to turn his back to Iris to keep focused.
When he turned back, she’d disappeared, and he’d suffered a moment of panic. But he’d spotted her by the buffet, and that’s when he took Brette by the arm and headed outside for their interview.
Which was over by the time dinner was served. He’d walked back in after a question about his future, which he’d deflected, and noticed Iris sitting at the table, slowly rotating her champagne glass. She’d done something spectacular with her golden hair, pulling it back, then looping it over—it was elegant and revealed her jawline, all the way to her to sexy bare shoulder, and wow, he needed to focus. He’d nearly bought a painting he didn’t want while trying to figure out what to say to her after dinner.
Hey, Iris, you look great.
No, that would imply she never looked great. Which she did.
Nice to see you. How’ve you been?
What, were they old school chums?
I’ve been desperately worried.
Too much. Way too much.
I’m sorry I left.
That’s what hewantedto say. And sometimes he still couldn’t figure out why he’d gotten up from the table in Paris, really, except maybe his stupid pride trying to wrap his brain around the fact that he was no longer needed.
So maybe that had been a giant temper tantrum. And that’s how he’d start.Sorry I was a jerk.
Yes, that.
“Thanks again for dinner,” Brette said as the orchestra came on and waiters came to clear their dessert plates. Hud had no room for the cheesecake, trying to look-not-look at Iris. “Do you mind if Ty gets a picture of us?”
He found a smile and put his arm around her.
When they finished, he spotted Iris rising from the table.
“Have a great time skiing, and let me know when the article runs.” He was shaking Ty’s hand and looking over his head as he spoke.
Everything inside Hud stilled when Iris reached out and grabbed fellow official Zach Warton. Jerk. He was at least a decade older than her too. The man put his arm around her, and she looked over and laughed.
Hud’s chest nearly exploded.
Warton grabbed her jacket, then carried it as he followed her out.
His breath turned to glue in his lungs.
“Hud, can you come around early to practice tomorrow? Jack and I want to go over the game plan with you.” Coach Clay had come over.
Hud blinked at him a moment, then, “Yeah, sure.”
Fellow American Jackson Ernst pointed to him, grinning from across the room. He had his arm draped over some lovely brunette who Hud didn’t recognize.
