He did. And finally, he reached the end of the alphabet. My heart seemed to freeze—so did everything around us—
“‘Wilder, Ronan. Defensive end. Six-six. Two hundred seventy-three pounds, age twenty-five. Rookie,’” he read.
I stared at the screen, needing confirmation. His name was right there, in the bright orange of the Woodsmen. Wilder, Ronan.
“Hell’s bells.” His voice shook. “I’m a rookie again.”
“You made it,” I said. My own voice was now a whisper.
“I made it.”
The phone jiggled and I realized that his hand was shaking, too, so I put my palm under his for support. “You did it,” I told him. I looked up and watched a smile spread across his features, and I knew that I was reflecting it back at him.
“I did it.” He bent and kissed me.
Ronan was kissing me.
It only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled back. “Cate, I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t know—”
“No, that’s ok. It was shock. You’re in shock,” I said quickly, and he nodded and echoed the words back to me.
“I’m in shock.”
“And you’re a Woodsmen,” I added, and his smile grew again. He picked me up in a hug and we spun across the dunes.
He was a Woodsmen.
Chapter 9
The man scratched his head. “Do the Woodsmen even use this?”
“The Junior Woodsmen do,” I told him. “And they’re absolutely a part of the Woodsmen Football organization.”
“A team plays here, on this field?” He scratched harder. “I bet this turns into a damn swap. Excuse my French.”
He was excused. “It does,” I agreed, and Ed had more specifics to give him about drainage issues and some solutions that he’d come up with during his time as a player here and as the building manager. The landscaping contractor listened and seemed impressed.
There was a lot happening now at the practice facility. Since the summer training session was over, the Woodsmen were out of the building and back at the stadium. It meant that the roof repairs could start. The new lockers had been delivered, but I’d realized that we needed new flooring in the room first, so that had gone in. Next up? Plumbing. That project was somethingI was going to push through regular approval channels, rather than sneaking it past Mr. Gowan. I couldn’t actually get his signature on anything since he’d been out of the office so much.
Which was fine, because I was keeping myself busy. Besides overseeing the renovations here, I had decided to undertake a marketing campaign for the Junior Woodsmen. Did I know what I was doing? No, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Taylor, who worked in the actual Marketing Department, was helping me on the side and she had great ideas.
It was fun and also a relief to know that she wasn’t mad at me, since Kiya actually was. Or maybe she was just upset in general, including and not limited to me. She’d been quiet at the lunches she came to but she’d missed a few this week. Victoria said that she was eating at her desk, alone, in Accounts and Payroll, where there was very bad lighting and the guy in the next cubicle snuffled all the time.
“We’re a lot more fun,” she had assured us today. “Are you guys ready for the game? The first one!” she’d marveled and had to fan herself. “Cate, are you going to wear a Wilder jersey?”
I would have, if the stupid Woodsmen team shop had actually made them. Apparently, they only produced jerseys for the starters and fan favorites, which Ronan wasn’t. But he was going to play in the first game, because the preseason was still part of his evaluation. The coaches were putting in the returning players but they were also trying out the new guys to see how they would fit into the offense and defense. That was what he had explained to me, and that was what I explained to Taylor and Victoria. They listened politely but I finally realized that aslifelong football fans, they were already aware of the purpose of the preseason.
I had my ticket, which I’d received as a Woodsmen employee rather than as a friend of a player. Ronan didn’t get any of those, while the top guys always had a bunch to give away. But it was just so amazing that he was getting out there at all. Ed and I had talked about it as we waited for this contractor to show up.
“I’m so proud,” he’d told me, smiling. And then I’d given him some news: I’d gotten him a ticket, too. Actually, he had Mr. Gowan’s, because my boss rarely looked at his work email but I had. I’d gone into his account and taken his employee ticket. It was another thing that could come back and bite me hugely, but I momentarily forgot the risk and worry when I saw Ed’s reaction.
He was overjoyed and I was glad that he’d be there to watch with me. I hadn’t ever seen an actual football game, just some clips when I’d been doing my intensive study of the sport. Unfortunately, there were no available replays of Junior Woodsmen matchups but I’d found some videos of Ronan’s college games. I’d noticed that the camera focused way too much on the offense of the other team rather than the guys on the defense who were stopping them. Anyway, besides when he and Myles had practiced on this swampy field, I hadn’t ever watched him play before.
I wouldn’t see him in person until the game, either, because apparently the team had a weird ritual of everyone staying at the same hotel together the night before they played and then driving in a bus to the stadium. And I had gotten pretty usedto seeing him, like when we had our dinners. I had majorly failed with the cumin incident, but I really had made a big effort to learn to prepare nutritious meals that were full of complex, lean, low, complete, and whatever other tags needed to go with various ingredients. So had Ronan, and I felt like we’d produced some good stuff together.
Now, he’d be spending a lot more time with his team. His new team, the real Woodsmen.
“Miss?”
