Page 41 of Dirty Player
“No. Fifty-yard line. Beaux’s always gotten me tickets there.”
“Oh. Those are wonderful! Danny always gets the seats for me in the box with other player’s wives.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “But between you and me, it’s hard to watch the game from there.”
“You can always join me,” I said, my mouth moving before I could stop myself. “Beaux gets me two, but I watch the game alone.”
“That’d be great! And you and Oliver should come for dinner some night. Or just us. Girls’ nights are more fun anyway, you know?” She nudged my side and it took me a moment to regain my bearings.
I was used to women using me to get close to Beaux. I wasn’t used to women seemingly being so open and honest. But as my gaze roamed over Jillian, her kindness and friendly smile made it easy to trust her. Blond hair pulled back into a ponytail with Rudolph’s jersey, skinny jeans and faded, well-worn gray Chucks on her feet, she lacked the pretentiousness so many athletes’ wives seeped from their pores.
“I’d like that,” I found myself saying. “The game, at least. Oliver and I…we’re just…” Heat bloomed on my chest as I tried to find the words. “Having fun. Friends.”
“Right.” She winked. “Of course you are.”
The doors burst open then. Lights flashed and media personnel shouted their questions to players as they began exiting the locker room. All wet-headed and dressed in suits, you could tell they’d celebrated and showered quickly before leaving.
Beaux came out early and was instantly surrounded by the reporters. I stayed back, next to Jillian. Beaux twisted around his Rough Riders baseball hat so the team’s logo was in front and began answering questions.
His eyes met mine and he smiled. I held his gaze, silently encouraging him and letting my pride for him shine through until a different current hit me.
Oliver exited the locker room, hat pulled lower over his eyes, covering his dirty blond hair. His head dipped and he thanked the reporters clamoring for his attention, but he seemed to pay them no mind while he pushed past the small, congregated crowd before making his way to me.
“Yeah. If you two are just having fun, I’ll eat my husband’s hat.” Jillian nudged me again, playfully.
I didn’t turn to look at her, but my lips lifted into a smile.
Whether it was because I liked her and found her funny or because Oliver didn’t stop moving until he was directly in front of me, I didn’t know.
“Ready to get out of here?” he asked, his voice rough and thick.
I was sure I answered.
Certain I tried to.
It felt like a handful of cotton balls were lodged in my throat as my mouth opened and closed.
His hand gripped mine and he tugged me toward him and whispered, “I told Beaux where we’d be. He said he’ll see you in the morning.”
I caught Beaux’s gaze, his eyes tightening as he saw me leaving, and then I was pulled through the maze of hallways, unable to gather my thoughts while Oliver guided me toward his car.
***
“You guys had a great game,” I said once we were settled into his car.
We’d made a brief stop at Beaux’s car, where I’d left an overnight bag earlier, and then a strange silence had permeated the fancy vehicle while Oliver guided us out of the underground parking garage for players and season ticket holders and onto the packed streets of downtown Raleigh.
His hands flexed on the wheel.
“You don’t think so?” I asked when he didn’t answer.
“I never think we play as great as we should.”
It didn’t surprise me. Oliver was intense and focused off the field just as much as he was on it.
“It was still a great touchdown you made in the third.”
His lips went from a pressed line to a hint of a smile. Shaking his head, he looked at me. His expression softened a bit. “You love the game.”
“Well, yeah, it was either find a way to love it growing up or hate all the hours I spent at the fields and driving Beaux around. I could have either become bitter and jealous of his success or been a part of it. I chose the latter.”
