When I pull back to look at her, a watery laugh rattles out of her. “God, am I literally crying right now at the arena? Jeez.” She drags her thumb along her lash line, gathering the moisture. “Sorry. I just… that was weighing on me, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Reaching for her hand, I lace our fingers together. “I’m totally fine. More than fine, actually, because now we can go get pizza, and I’m so hungry I could die.”
She follows my gaze to where Saint and Bennett have just strolled out of the locker room, freshly showered and dressed in their suits instead of uniforms.
My happiness is short-lived when a few moments later, Wilder appears behind them.
The dark, navy suit he’s wearing is undoubtedly expensive and tailored to fit every inch of his powerful frame, and as angry as I am, it doesn’t deter my body’s reaction to him. My pulse races with each step he takes as I drink every inch of him in.
The expensive loafers, crisp white button-down, and deep burgundy tie make him look as if he belongs in a boardroom and not in an arena.
“Heyyyyy, beautiful,” Bennett says as he saunters over, his mouth curved into a playful grin. “Enjoy the game?”
I nod with a smile. “Yeah, it was great. Good interception.”
He groans dramatically. “Mais, fucking hell, this isn’t football. It’s a block, not an interception.”
I lift my shoulder. “Potato,potahto.”
Saint chuckles beside him and then goes back to sucking face with Lennon, which we’re both doing our best to ignore.
“Where should we go to eat?” Bennett says as he tosses his arm around my shoulder. I attempt to sidestep him, shrugging out of it, but before I can…
There’s Wilder.
Here.
Standing directly in front of us.
His hard, unyielding stare bounces between the two of us, appearing slightly… murderous.
“Miss Delacroix, can I have a word in my office?”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
WILDER
Whatthe fuckam I doing?
Losing my goddamn mind, that’s what. Asking to see her in my office in front of all of my players as if it’s fucking normal to meet a student in my office after hours? After a game?
Fucking dangerous.
Fortunately, I covered quickly and said it was in reference to the upcoming event that I’ve been working with her on. That somehow makes it less suspicious, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Good thing Devereaux is too busy lusting after his girlfriend to notice, and as we’ve established, Legros is an idiot.
I can tell by the look in Maisie’s eyes though, the way they narrow, then suddenly flare, as if she’s throwing something physical directly at me, that she wants to tell me no.
But I know she won’t.
Because then she’d have to explain to her friendswhyshe’s telling me no. So I guess my lapse in judgment is going to work in my favor this time.
“Sure,” she finally says cautiously before glancing over at Devereaux and his girl with a smile. “I’ll, uh… meet you guys there? This shouldn’t take long.”
But of fucking course, Legros interjects. “I can wait for you, Mais. No big deal.”
