“I like this side of him…”
“Better than Thierry…”
“No kidding…”
The shift in tone was subtle but unmistakable. Nettie noticed it in the sidelong glances exchanged at the table, the murmurs hushed a beat too late. A current of unease threaded through the words. Tate had stepped into a leadership role tonight, andfrom the sound of it, the team liked him in it. Maybe too much. What would happen when Thierry returned? Would Tate willingly step back? Or would his angry, unyielding nature make that impossible?
Nettie felt it settle in her stomach like a weight. Whatever storms the players faced always found a way to spill into the lives of their families. It was only a matter of time.
Then the door opened again.
Tate strode in, his hair still damp from the shower, dark waves brushing against his forehead. He wore a deep brown cable-knit sweater that clung to his shoulders and chest, paired with black jeans that looked almost indecently good on him. He seemed to carry himself with pride and a larger-than-life presence.
Nettie swallowed, biting back a sigh.
Honestly, Tate looked stunning.
Without hesitation, he made his way toward them, tugging playfully at a curl of Gina’s permed hair. She batted at his hand with a scowl, but when he leaned close to whisper something in his sister’s ear, her expression shifted. Gina’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and then softened with gratitude.
“Thank you,” Gina breathed. Tate only nodded, then turned his attention to Nettie.
He extended his hand. Her heart gave a little stutter. Sliding her fingertips against his, she rose in a single, smooth motion, her gaze caught and held by his. The world around them blurred until it was only the two of them standing in the bustle. His eyes flicked to her shoulder, to the sequined ‘C’ she had so proudly worn.
“Nice job,” he said simply.
“I wanted it to catch the light,” she replied, shy but pleased.
“It did. Are you ready?”
“Yep.” Nettie glanced guiltily at the plate she hadn’t yet finished eating or cleaned up, but Gina waved her off with a smirk.
“Go. I’m waiting for ‘Round Two’ tonight…”
“What?” Nettie whispered, confusion lacing her voice, but Tate was already steering her toward the exit.
The hallway outside buzzed with people streaming toward the garage. Nettie followed Tate through the crowd, her pulse thrumming. This time, though, something new caught her eye. A sleek Porsche sat gleaming under the fluorescent lights, parked in the captain’s designated spot beside the coach’s car.
She darted a glance at Tate. His lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile.
“That felt so good parking there,” he admitted, voice low as he waved casually to a departing teammate. “Let’s get in the car so you aren’t cold and we can talk freely.”
Nettie nodded, slipping into the buttery leather seat as he held the door open for her. She couldn’t help watching him as he circled to the driver’s side, sliding into place with an ease that made it look as though the car had been designed for him. When the engine purred to life, her breath caught.
“This is gorgeous…” she whispered, fingertips brushing the dashboard.
“Do you want this instead of the Mercedes?” he asked instantly, glancing at her with a sincerity that left her stunned.
“N-No,” Nettie stammered, heat rushing to her face. “I love my car. I was just making polite conversation.”
“What’s the impolite version of that conversation then?” he teased, laughter in his voice.
“This car is sexy as hell,” she admitted, her voice dropping as she trailed her hand along the dash, before flashing him a sly smile. “But mine is better.”
“Oh, is it?” His grin widened.
“She purrs like Mulligan…”
“Mulligan hisses and growls.”
