But Jalen had stepped up when I’d gone down, slipping easily into that QB1 role. His rookie season had been nothing short of incredible—though not as impressive as my own, a fact I loved to remind him of every time we saw one another.
Jalen’s eyes connected with something over my shoulder, and I turned, having momentarily forgotten about Delia in the excitement of seeing an old friend. Her gaze was…assessing, as though dissecting the interaction between me and Jalen, then filtering the information she gleaned through the things she already knew about me.
It wasn’t that hard to figure out, honestly. Jalen was simply another younger brother, another kid I’d taken under my wing and made myself personally responsible for.
“And who do we have here?” Jalen asked, that grin now edged with something like appreciation.
“This is Delia Delatou,” I said, settling a hand possessively on her lower back, ushering her into our little powwow. “Delia, this is Jalen Jackson, starting quarterback for the Detroit Mustangs.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Jalen,” Delia practically purred, extending her hand for him to shake.
Jalen took it in both of his, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a lingering kiss to the back.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Delatou,” he said, and their gazes lingered.
With a jolt, I realized they were the same age, and I had to admit, they’d make a gorgeous couple.
But Delia Delatou wasmine. She wasn’t going to be something else Jalen took from me.
Fuck, it was going to be a long afternoon.
Watching Owen in thissort of setting was…jarring, to say the least. I’d seen the man sweating through his tee at the job site, shirtless at the gym, in business casual at the office, and up to his shins in wine grapes.
This new one was disconcerting for the simple fact that it never ceased to amaze me how easily he slid into each role. Owen Lawless was a man of many talents, and it appeared that being a chameleon, shifting himself into whoever he needed to be for whatever he was doing at the moment, was one of them.
I wondered who he truly was beneath all that people-pleasing.
I wondered ifheeven knew.
Still, despite that smile he plastered on his face for Jalen and the other players he was shooting with, I didn’t miss the jealousy that flared in his eyes every time Jalen and I conversed.
I loved the thrill it sent through me.
While he filmed, I took the opportunity to get plans in place for that night. When he was done, we were running short ontime if we wanted to head back to the hotel and freshen up before heading to Midtown.
As he approached me, lips flattened, brow furrowed, I said brightly, “You ready?”
“For what?” he asked, still scowling.
“The surprise I planned!”
“Delia…” he sighed, shoulders drooping. “I’m not really in the mood.”
“Please?” I begged. “It would mean a lot to me.”
That turquoise gaze collided with mine then, and I knew he’d say yes if only because he didn’t want to let me down. I hated that he felt that way, and I hated myself a little for using it to my advantage.
“Fine,” he said at last.
“Great!” I clapped, then grabbed his arm and pulled him away, throwing hasty goodbyes over our shoulders.
Ten minutes later, I deposited him outside his room.
“What am I supposed to wear?” he called after me as I retreated to my own.
“Whatever you want.”
“Birthday suit,” he said with a nod. “Got it.”
