I step forward, but not before I take one last look at the mystery Cinderella, hoping I can spot which direction she goes so I can track her down later.
With my gaze on her, I don’t realize the up lights on the stage are right in my path, and I stumble as my foot connects with the nearest one, sending it skittering around. I manage to catch myself before I fall flat on my face. The crowd takes a collective breath, and my teammates start chortling.
“Easy, Teej! You trying to blind me?” Del has a hand over his face. The light spun around and is now spotlighting him.
“Just trying to make sure everyone knows what a good-looking center the River Foxes have,” I say easily as I shove my hands in my pockets and stroll the rest of the way to Scott. The mic picked up my comment and the crowd ate it up. Del gives me a jaunty salute and steps forward, doing a pageant wave for the fans.
I lean toward the mic. “He’s single, in case anyone’s wondering.”
Del’s face turns bright red, and he gives me a murderous look.You’re welcome, I mouth in his direction before turning my attention to Scott, who’s shaking his head and smirking at me. The organization is used to my antics.
The crowd is cheering even more loudly for Del, and when the applause subsides, Scott puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, giving me a good-natured shake. “Here you have him, ladies and gents. The team charmer and—apparently— matchmaker?” He arches his eyebrows at me.
I lean toward the mic. “Wingman extraordinaire, that’s me. Also”—I point at myself, having mercy on Del and putting the focus back on myself—“single and willing and able to mingle.” I hit the fans with an overdone wink, and there’s lots of squealing. I pan the crowd, but I’ve lost sight of Cinderella. I say a silent prayer that I can find her later. If I’m lucky, she’ll be single and ready to mingle too.
Scott laughs, resuming his position behind the mic. “We’re grateful TJ is a little more fleet of foot on the field than on this stage, am I right, folks?”
Chapter 3
Lucy
Someone needs to tell my fight-or-flight response to calm the heck down. I reach up and finger the edge of my mask. Daisy insisted I use her vintage, off-white lace one. “It matches the dress perfectly,” she’d said. “It would be an honor to have a pretty thing like you wear it.”
I can’t believe I agreed. This is a wedding gown, for crying out loud. I’m not trying to draw attention to myself, but I can feel the stares.
No one knows who you are.I tell myself this over and over again, letting my fingers graze the delicate lace mask and feeling my heartbeat slow. This is fine.
I tune in to the activity of the room around me. The River Foxes spared no expense for this gala. There are large fabric swaths in ice blue and white draped tastefully around the room. Twinkle lights swoop in long lines, crisscrossing the high ceilings, giving the illusion that we’re dining under a star-studded sky.
It makes sense that this event is done up so big. Tickets were outrageous. Cassie told me her agency was willing to pay, but I didn’t take her up on the offer. Money isn’t an issue for me. My dad’s life insurance payout made sure I was set for life. Then, when my stepmom started monetizing her social media and day-in-the-life content, she made sure my stepsisters and I got a fair share of the profits. As much as I hated the spotlight, it raked in money. Alotof money.
Even if I’m not being featured on the family platforms anymore, I still have my writing income. Thanks to my sweet readers andCassie’s hard work, I’ve had a lucrative career thus far, and I don’t take it for granted.
I smile up at the waiter who clears my plate. The food was divine, but I only managed to eat a couple bites of my steak before I felt like I might pop a hole in Daisy’s wedding gown. The waistline is tight with a capital T.
I spent the dinner hour chatting with a middle-aged couple from the Chicago area, Adelaide and Clark. Mostly I asked a few questions, and they were more than happy to launch into their entire life story. He came from old money, and she grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, but they fell for each other, and together they started what became a wildly successful event management firm. Their company also had a hand in planning this gala.
“Now, dear.” Adelaide shifts in her chair to address me. I sit up straighter. “We’ve talked your ear off, but we haven’t heard a thing about you. Tell us where you’re from. What brings you out here alone tonight?”
Adelaide looks at me with kind eyes and a soft smile. Her face mask, the kind that’s on a stick, is propped on the table. I reach up and touch mine again, needing the reminder that I’m invisible tonight.I can lie. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.Except my mind is blank. I literally make up worlds and fictional people for a living, and I cannot for the life of me come up with something adequate to tell this woman that will sound believable.
“She came to see me.”
I turn in my seat at the sound of a smooth, deep voice behind me.
“TJ Wilson!” Adelaide squeals, and her husband pushes his chair back and stands to shake hands with the guy who tripped his way across the stage earlier. He’s obviously a football player. Since I don’t follow the sport or the River Foxes, I don’t know much more than that, but from the way he played to the crowd and sent every woman here into a titter with his comment about being single, I could guess the kind of man he is. Right now, Idon’t really care that he’s a player or a playboy. I’m grateful for the diversion.
He chats easily with Adelaide and Clark for a minute or two, and I get to my feet, even though they’re killing me in these heels, so the four of us are standing together.
“We’ll let you two kids get to it, then.”
Get to what, exactly? I have no clue, but judging by the way Adelaide’s wagging her eyebrows, she thinks there’s some sort of history between TJ and me. Little does she know that while he may be a strong, sexy sports ball player of some kind, I’m a social media has-been who has never been kissed. Her suggestive eyebrows are misplaced.
Adelaide grabs her mask, holds it up to her face, and wiggles her fingers at me before tucking her hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow and walking off.
I watch them go, aware of TJ’s gaze on my face. My cheeks heat under his stare. I absently touch my temple, making sure my disguise is firmly in place. When I work up the courage to look at him, he’s smiling at me, and I take a beat to size him up.
The guy is built. I don’t know much of anything about football, but if I had to guess, I’d bet on him being someone who bulldozes people. Is that something that a sports player does? If not, they should. TJ would be good at it. The way his shoulders fill out his suit coat should be illegal. His tailor better be on speed dial because the stitching looks dangerously close to busting.
