“What’s wrong?” I watch her take in our surroundings.
“Nothing, I just. . . ” She side-eyes me.
I study her. She knew I didn’t want to talk about my dad, and she saved me from it.
How did she know that?
“Thank you.”
Her blue-green eyes lift to mine, but they’re gone before I can catch whatever is in them.
“Cole Matthews.”
My name comes from within the crowd this time. Ryder shifts in front of me, keeping me against the wall as a former pro-turned-commentator for a major network approaches.
My shoulders pull tight, knowing this man played with my dad and how this conversation will go.
“Boy, when will they get you a defense that knows what in the hell they’re doing?” Jack Mason sticks out his hand, and I offer mine in return.
“That’s a question for my management.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckles. “He’s too good, like his old man, to be stuck with guys who couldn’t sack a mounted target.” He winks at Ryder.
I’ve only chatted with Jack a few times since signing with the Stingrays, most often for post-game interviews. He’s in his sixties and wears a smile as if he’s won at the game of life.
Jack rubs his jaw. “Your dad would’ve taken those boys to school. You need to get in there and make them pay attention.”
My spine stiffens. If I had a dollar for every time someone explained to me how my dad would do things and how I should do likewise.
Ryder’s stance eases, and her body brushes against mine. “Yeah, well, you can show a jackass how to sit, but it doesn’t mean they ever will.” There’s only a hint of tease in her tone.
Jack laughs again, while Ryder looks like she’s one second away from throwing a punch.
It makes me smile. We’ve never spoken about my dad, but somehow, she gets it.
“It’s nice seeing you, Jack.” I reach around Ryder, shaking his hand again, ready to move on.
He slaps me on the back and wishes me luck as I pass.
I push forward, getting stopped every ten feet to shake hands with reporters and other athletes I’ve met through the years.
We finally reach the Stingrays’s setup, where Mindy and her team are distributing team merchandise.
Mindy makes a beeline, reaching for my arm, but Ryder’s hand jets out, stopping her from making contact.
I peek down at Ryder, who’s in full surveillance mode, and I have to hold back the cocky-ass grin threatening to break free.
Mindy’s usual full smile falters, but she recovers quickly. “Cole, if you wouldn’t mind, we have a stack of yourSportsEliteissues waiting for you.”
“Ok. I’ll be right there,” I say, expecting Mindy to get back to whatever she was doing, but she stays put.
I face Ryder, blocking her from Mindy’s view.
Ryder shifts, peering around me to ensure Mindy keeps her hands to herself.
“Maybe you can chat her up and make sure my face isn’t being used as wallpaper.”
I might be mistaken, but I think my protection agent made of steel just tucked her bottom lip in a little tighter to prevent her mouth from going rogue.
