Speaking of them …
I slip my phone out of my inside jacket pocket as Ned gives us our marching orders. Go onstage. Get announced for all the donors and big spenders we’ve invited. Yada yada yada. I tune him out and type out a message.
TJ
Heading into my event with the team tonight. I’ll touch base with you guys later this weekend. Love you!
I pocket my phone without waiting for a response. It’ll take my grandparents a solid twenty minutes to figure out who’s going to text me back and then pointer-finger type out a response. When it finally does come in, there will be lots of capital letters and emojis and far too many exclamation points. The typos will be hilarious, and there will probably be four different texts because they hit send before they meant to. Gosh, I love them.
I follow the guys into the holding area behind the stage. Anton and Del are ahead of me and Poe. It’s eerily similar to how we wait in the tunnel before running onto the field on gamedays, and a familiar zip of anticipation courses through me as the good-natured chatter of the guests reaches our ears.
I turn to Poe, brushing the lapels of my jacket. “How do I look, man?” I adjust my mask, pulling it down over my eyes. “Like a sexy running back Batman who’s about to steal the show?”
Poe rolls his eyes. “What I wouldn’t give for a modicum of your confidence.”
“What’s a mode-a-crumb?”
He shoves my shoulder, pushing me forward, and I’m grinning as we file out onto the stage. Raucous applause rings out, and I beam my million-dollar smile out over the crowd.
Scott Bass, our team’s general manager, stands behind the podium, and the guys and I split off so we’re standing on either side of him.
“I know I speak for the entire team when I say how grateful we are for your support not only tonight, but this season,” Scott says.
We all clap, and those in attendance cheer.
“The city of Green Bay is a special place to play ball. No one else has the history we have, and as a River Foxes organization, we feel like it’s the least we can do to give back to the town that gives us so much, right, gentlemen?”
My teammates and I all answer in the affirmative.
“To begin, I’m going to do some introductions. Up for auction tonight, we have some excellent options, including getting up close and personal with some of your favorite River Foxes.”
A couple of people in the audience squeal. I try to find the source of the sound. I’m one of the guys up for auction. I’m hoping whoever bids on me is nice and normal. I can make conversation with a houseplant—and I do, on occasion—but it’ll be more fun if I actually like the person who plunks down some cold, hard cash to have dinner with me.
Scott drones on about how the bidding will work on the silent auction and what’s up for grabs there, but my attention is drawn to the top of the staircase that leads down to where we’re all standing in the Atrium.
The sight before my eyes is arresting, and the air is zapped from my lungs.
A woman dressed in an antique ball gown stands on the landing. Her dress is a creamy white with a high neckline and long sleeves. The whole thing glitters in the dim lighting of the Atrium. Her dark brown hair is up in a curled pile with loose pieces softly framing either side of her face. A beaded band sits like a crown onher head. There’s some sort of belt thing at her waist, and then a full skirt puffs out and around her like an upside-down wine glass. She looks like a vintage Cinderella, and I can’t rip my gaze from the sight. I’m drinking her in. No,guzzlingher in.
Her mask hides much of her face, but I’m enraptured as she scans the crowd below. I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful women over the years, but there’s something about this one that makes my blood hum with a different kind of heat. A dangerous kind.
She’s holding her shoulders back, and her spine is stick straight ... like she’s nervous, almost hesitant. Like she might bolt in the other direction at any moment.
I hold my breath, eyes never leaving her, as she takes a step down the center of the staircase. A tremor of fear trickles through me because I realize that she could trip and stumble down the wide flight of stairs. Dresses and heels have got to be impossible to walk in, right? Especially when there’s so much fabric and the floor is all shiny and slippery. Why isn’t she holding onto the railing? Why is no one there to offer her a hand? Why doIwant to offer her my hand?
I know why. I’m intrigued. She’s stunning, and while she looks a little rigid, I’d bet money on my ability to get her to loosen up.
She makes it halfway down the stairs, and I blow out a relieved breath. She seems pretty steady on her feet. I don’t know how women walk in heels, but she obviously has some skills in that department. Now I’m praying no one comes to join her.
“Dude!” Poe hisses from next to me.
“What?”
His eyes go wide beneath his mask. He waves his hand ahead, motioning toward Scott.
“Huh?” I flick my gaze toward the podium.
“TJ?” Scott beckons me forward. “Want to come on over here?”
