Page 148 of Don’t Say Mafia

Eden choked on her first bite, and I slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into my side as she tried to recover from embarrassment, desire, and the presence of a grandmotherly chaperone all at once.

Lincoln had been right.

Hire the grandmothers. Trust the grandmothers.

And never again walk out of a bathroom to find someone naked on your couch.

Blanche adjusted the tray and turned back toward the galley like nothing had happened.

Eden buried her face briefly against my shoulder. I looked down at her, at the flush still staining her cheeks, at the way her eyes refused to meet Blanche’s.

Worth it.

CHAPTER 33

EDEN

Ihad never been to a football game before.

Apparently, this was becoming a pattern in my life.

In the handful of weeks since Jagger had crashed into my world, I’d done more new, thrilling, terrifying, exhilarating things than I had in all the years before him combined.

It was overwhelming. It was perfect. It was so far outside the careful life I’d lived before him that sometimes I still caught myself waiting for the moment it would all disappear.

The stadium rose around us like its own city, loud and alive in a way that made my chest vibrate. Orange flooded everything—shirts, flags, painted faces. The crowd’s voices swelled and rolled, colliding and stacking on top of one another until the noise fused into a single, breathing thing.

I clutched the railing for a second when we stepped into the suite.

“Too much?” Jagger murmured near my ear.

I shook my head, even though it absolutely was.

The field stretched out below us in perfect green stripes. The teams were lined up now as the first plays of the game unfolded under the sun. The massive screen shifted from pregame hype to live action, replaying the opening snap while music thudded between whistles. Every tackle, every completed pass, and every near miss pulled a reaction from the crowd. Coming to a football game was evidently a good way to burst your eardrums.

“I feel like I’ve walked into a movie,” I admitted.

Jagger smiled faintly, his hand settling at my waist like it belonged there. “Tennessee fans are . . . intense.”

As if summoned by what he’d said, a blonde a few feet away sprang to her feet. “Parker Davis, you have legs for a reason. Use them!” she screamed over the railing.

The black-haired woman beside her didn’t react at all. She stayed leaned against the railing with her arms folded, watching the field with calm focus. I blinked as the blonde dropped back into her seat. “He hesitates when he overthinks,” she muttered, looking up at me like I was supposed to be agreeing with her. “He needs aggression.”

I stared at her. “Are you . . . on staff?”

She looked at me, clearly insulted. “Emotionally? Yes.”

Jagger laughed under his breath. “Natalie, I don’t know what Tennessee would do without you,” he said mockingly.

She nodded as if he was being serious. “I’m a real asset to this organization, and I should get more credit for it, Thatcher,” she replied, then launched out of her seat again like a rocket. This time she cupped her hands around her mouth, leaning so far over the railing I thought she might fall over.

“Adler! You beautiful bastard, quit dancing with the linebacker and hit the damn hole!” she yelled with pure, unfiltered frustration. “You’re faster than him—make him eat turf!”

“Well, well,” another gorgeous blonde said, distracting me from Natalie’s . . . passion, as she walked into the suite. “You made it.”

Jagger turned, his hand tightening briefly at my waist before sliding higher along my back. “Good to see you, Riley-kins.”

My heart stuttered, realizing this was the Riley. As in Jace’s wife.