Page 338 of Don’t Say Mafia

“Is that—” I gasped.

“Yes, it is,” Riley said, entirely too amused.

“But—”

“That’s Natalie’s husband,” she explained calmly, like she wasn’t confirming that a literal A-list movie star was casually FaceTiming from someone’s pocket.

Natalie turned the phone toward me. “Say hi to Jagger’s girlfriend, babe.”

Easton shifted closer to the camera, and for a second it felt like he was looking straight at me through the screen. He smiled in that charming, practiced way that made women all over the world faint.

“Hi,” he said warmly. “Nice to meet you.”

My brain attempted to reboot again.

“Hi,” I managed, praying I didn’t sound like a malfunctioning robot.

Jagger reached over without a word, his hand closing around Natalie’s wrist. He gently but firmly turned the phone back toward her, cutting off Easton’s view of me. “I think we’ve had enough of that,” he said dryly.

All the women dissolved into laughter.

Jagger used the moment to slide behind me, his arms banding around my waist as he pulled me back against his chest. His mouth found the side of my neck, and he bit down gently, his teeth grazing skin just hard enough to send a shiver racing down my spine. “Mine,” he murmured.

I melted into him without thinking.

Across the small cluster of seats, Casey caught my eye and winked. One perfectly arched brow lifted playfully as she mouthed Hot, then doubled down with an exaggerated second wink, her grin unapologetically mischievous.

Heat flooded my face again, and I returned her wink before the crowd’s screams brought my attention back to the field.

A giant tiger was sprinting across the field, waving a flag and hyping up the crowd with exaggerated enthusiasm. The orange-and-white mascot leapt, spun, and pounded on its chest while the audience roared approval.

“Go FiFi!” Natalie screamed. Riley and Casey started cheering as well.

“That’s Ophelia. She’s married to Matty Adler, Tennessee’s tight end and Jace’s other best friend,” Jagger explained.

“And she’s the team mascot?” I asked, watching as she did an impressive backflip.

“It’s a very long and fun story,” Riley said, waggling her eyebrows at us.

That sounded interesting.

Jagger’s fingers brushed against mine. “What are you thinking right now?” he murmured.

I looked out over the stadium again.

“I can’t believe how little I’ve done in my life,” I admitted.

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Before you . . . I’d never been to a sports game of any type. I’d never flown before. I’d never even eaten at a freaking buffet, expensive or a Golden Corral.” I gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “I haven’t done anything.”

The noise of the stadium continued around us, but it felt distant suddenly.

Jagger turned me toward him fully, and he lifted my face slightly. “We’ll fix that.”

I swallowed. “Fix it?”

“I’ll show you everything,” he said.