After a moment, her eyes land on mine. I want whatever she’ll allow me.
She moves into me just a little closer, but not so close that our bodies touch. “Five photographers were out front. Three had two assistants, the others only one. Megan, the editor, was staked out fifteen feet from the entrance, waiting for you, and would’ve kept you there until you agreed to do the article. Mindy smelled you no less than three times and cataloged your every move. That guy, Jared, has been twenty steps behind us the entire night. He’s on your nine, pretending to fit into a group huddled around a table. There are six exits. One on each end, two on each side, but a door to a kitchen would lead to a seventh. There are two storage rooms, which are dead ends.”
She sucks in air. “The man in the back corner over my left shoulder with an iPad is directing staff. There are about a dozen servers. Five security guards are roaming the room. Your GM has been standing in the same spot since we joined your friends, letting people come to him while he sips his drink. The woman, three o’clock in the pink dress, doesn’t realize the man she’s with is feeding her drinks, likely hoping she’s drunk before she realizes it. And. . .there are two jokers at the bar desperatelytrying to get the attention of the tall blonde who’s smart enough not to be the least bit interested.”
Well, shit.
That’s a lot, and I suspect that’s only half of what she sees.
I scan the room, only noticing these things because she pointed them out.
“Where’d you learn to dance?” Her gentle voice pulls me from my astonishment.
I’m willing to match her courage. “My mom was a dancer. A ballerina, actually. I’ve been dancing my whole life.”
Her eyes drift to something over my shoulder.
“My sister is a dancer and would threaten to show videos of me in tights and ballet shoes if I didn’t partner with her.”
“I’d like to see that.” A small smile tugs at her mouth, the first I’ve seen since we entered this space.
“Please don’t ever tell her that. She’ll send them immediately.”
“I think she and I might get along.”
“You two would be dangerous together.”
Ryder glances at me, something skirting across her face. I wait for her follow-up questions about my mom, but they never come.
“Do you ever talk to anyone who doesn’t bring up your dad in the first few sentences of conversation?”
I slide my arm around her a bit more, holding her a little tighter. Her body brushes mine, and she doesn’t stiffen or fight it.
“It’s rare. He was a legend. People want to relive that kind of greatness.”
Her eyes stay trained over my shoulder. “It doesn’t leave a lot of room for you to be great all on your own.”
The tenderness of those words is a blow straight to my chest. A truth that no one else has ever seen.
It’s my turn to stare at her. Her eyes are focused in the distance. I release her hand, taking another chance and linking my arms behind her back. She doesn’t flinch.
“It’s all I’ve known since I first held a football. People expect and want me to be him. He only wanted me to be myself.”
I think about the last game he attended. Tears in his eyes as I jogged off the field.
“He never compared my game to his. He offered advice and helped when I asked, but he was my dad first. He was careful never to put himself in a coach role.”
“He sounds like an amazing dad.” The sincerity of her words causes the ache of missing him to flare.
As we sway, I realize I want this to last. Just me and Ryder, sharing truths.
“Cole.” I’m startled by her use of my first name and the tension I hear in it. “In a second, you’re going to slowly turn us 180 degrees, and I need you to tell me if you know the man talking to your GM.”
I begin to turn us, but she goes rigid, stopping me. “You need to be slick.”
“Ok.”
I take my time, shifting us slowly. I lower my head, pretending to whisper something in her ear, but let my eyes drift upward to three men conversing. One of them is Greg.
