The least I can do is not pipe his little sister.
Nine
Kendall
I flip the ticket around in my hand and try to remember the first time I watched Andre play football. I’m pretty sure I was eight. And I’m also pretty sure I have an entire Hello Kitty diary full of documentation of that event.
If I could tell that little girl that she’d be here, seventeen years later, about to watch him play in the NFL…what would she say?
Oh, I know. That little girl would slap me in the face and say, Why aren’t you married to him?
I glance down at my outfit, feeling peace with the knowledge that it’s just about the best possible choice for this occasion. Tight white jeans and flowery top, with low wedges.
Perfect.
I haven’t actually seen Andre much in the few days since the secret-room kiss. I’m not avoiding him or anything, he just has workouts and practice basically all day while I’m at the house with my team, and as soon as he’s gotten back in the evening, I’ve needed to get to the office or call it for the day.
Okay, maybe there’s been a tiny bit of avoiding.
I look at the ticket again and the blue Post-it Note attached to it from when Andre left it on the counter for me.
You should come. It’ll be fun. —A
I chew on my lip and try to stifle the smile that pulls wide across my face.
It’s hot and humid as I make my way through the back corridors of the Riders’ home stadium. The stands are vibrating with the crowd, and the announcers ramble about something before the game starts.
I check the ticket again. Its shiny, aqua-blue letters say Riders Home Box Suite. That’s great and all, but it’s lacking any sort of instruction on where those seats actually are.
I pivot on my heel, realizing now that I am officially lost. I gather my hair over one shoulder and glance around, looking for some sort of map or directory for this maze of concrete.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of high heels clicking from down the hall and turn to see three women in sundresses and sleek outfits, the same level of fanciness as mine. I love not being overdressed or underdressed. There’s truly no better feeling.
I glance at them and notice the woman in the middle has light pink hair and an extra bounce in her step.
They look like they know what they’re doing. Maybe they can tell me where I need to go.
“We’re doing pigeons,” the pink-haired one asserts, their conversation becoming audible as they get closer.
“You’re releasing pigeons at your wedding?” To the left of her, a slender beauty with a million blond curls raises a brow.
Pink Hair shrugs. “Yep. Doves are overrated. Pigeons are misunderstood.”
“Fair enough,” Blond Curls says.
“Hey.” I hold up a hand and give a small wave as I walk up to them. “I think I’m completely lost…” I grab the ticket and quickly unstick the Post-it Note with Andre’s writing, slipping it into my purse.
I guess eight-year-old me wants to save it to stick in that Hello Kitty notebook.
“We can help you.” The third woman, with big brown eyes and freckled cheeks, gently takes the ticket from me and gives it a glance. “Oh!” Those eyes light up, and a bright smile appears on her face.
Pink Hair lifts her nose to peek at the ticket. “Hells to the yeah, girly!” She lifts a toned shoulder. “You’re coming with us.”
“Huh?” I draw back. “Oh, you guys are—”
“Jessica Danes.” The blonde extends a hand. “Elliot’s wife. Our son, Asher, is in the box already. He’s with Frankie. You’ll meet her, too.”
“And her adorable baby, Sam.” Pink Hair grins. “Oh, I could just squish that child.” She levels her sparkly blue gaze on me and waves a hand, a pink-diamond ring flashing on her finger. “I’m Melody, fiancée of the kicker and recent football convert. Oh, and her cousin!” She nudges the brown-eyed girl.
“Whitney.” She smiles. “I’m Chase Kennedy’s wife.”
“Wow. It’s awesome to meet you guys!” I feel immediately more relaxed. I guess I didn’t consciously realize that I was nervous to meet all the NFL wives and family, but their instant sweetness and warmth put me totally at ease.
“Welcome to the club, cutie pie.” Melody reaches out and links her arm through mine.
The four of us walk down a side hallway and finally into a bougie-looking glass elevator, Melody holding on to my arm the entire way.
“So…” She turns to me as we step into the elevator and gives me a playful nudge in the side. “Who’s the lucky man? Must be serious, if you’re here.”
“Yeah, girl.” Jessica flips her hair. “Who you here for?”
I wave a hand. “Actually, he’s just a friend. Andre Smoke, the new defensive trade from—”
“Girl.” Whitney gives me a blazing stare. “You’re with Smoke? He’s like an NFL legend. He’s basically here as the Riders’ defensive savior, you know.” She looks at the other girls and back at me. “Chase is all psycho about losing his star spotlight.”
Melody dramatically fans herself. “Smoke, indeed. Damn, good for you!”
“No, no.” I give a slightly uncomfortable laugh. “We’re actually just friends. He’s was my older brother’s high school teammate and best bud since as long as I can remember. My brother is Wyatt Collins. He plays for the Vikings now. So, Andre and I literally grew up together. Nothing romantic,” I add quickly.
“Mm-hmm.” Whitney crosses her arms, revealing a massive diamond on her ring finger and giving it a little wiggle. “Just friends is never really a thing.”
Jessica shoots her a playful look. “Not when you ask them for help in the bedroom, it’s not.”
Whitney laughs heartily and gives Jessica a light smack. “Shut it.”
“No way,” I whisper, shaking my head in amusement and disbelief at how comfortable I already feel with these women.
“It’s true.” Melody leans close to me and giggles. “Trust me, we got stories. And fruity drinks, and football, and a whole big fat buttload of fun.”
The elevator doors glide open, and we’re met with a blast of icy air conditioning and a sudden feel of luxury.
Melody gives me a squeeze as we walk through double doors and into the box suite section above the end zone. “We’ll see how just friends holds up after you see him from this view.”
I swallow and look through the glass at the field. Sunshine pours into the room, which is buzzing and bustling and alive with excitement. A bartender serves drinks in the back, and everyone looks beautiful and classy and important.
I’ve been in a stadium family box suite a couple of times since Wyatt got drafted, before work got crazy-demanding and I was able to make it to a handful of his pro games. But the Riders suite seems to be a notch above everything else. Maybe I’m just seeing it through fresh eyes. I’m not here as a little sister this time. I’m with the wives. I’m here as a…
Friend.
Whitney’s sparkling diamond and warning words flicker through my mind.
Just friends is never really a thing.
“So.” Melody guides me toward the bar and gets us two of something the same sweet strawberry color as her hair. “You grew up near Smoke, obviously, which was…” She searches her memory.
“Oklahoma,” I supply, taking a sip of sugary alcohol. “Until he went to LSU in Baton Rouge for college.”
“Oh!” She clasps her hands together, decorated with rings. She has a small tattoo on one wrist. “They play in the stadium called Death Valley.” She looks pleased with herself. “I’ve got the NFL pretty much down, but I’m still learning college. I’m a yoga teacher and spiritual guide, so sports are definitely still new territory for me.”
I can’t help but smile at Melody’s pure, radiant soul. “Spiritual guide. I could use one of those.”
She lights up. “I’m here for you!”
“So you’re Smoke’s girl?”
I turn around at the so
und of the new voice and see a beautiful woman holding a baby carrier with a tiny, sleeping infant wrapped in a South Florida Riders blanket.
“Hi,” I say with a smile. “Actually, I’m just his friend’s sister. We go way back, but it’s not like…” I turn my attention to the sleeping baby. “Who’s this?”
The woman smiles sweetly, just as glowy as everyone else here. Gosh, it’s like happiness is literally in the air. “This is Samuel Sterling, or Sammy.” As she extends a hand, I notice a tiny plastic toy Super Bowl ring dangling from a chain on her neck. “I’m Frankie, Leo’s wife. We were all so jazzed about Andre getting traded, we couldn’t wait to meet his woman.” She shimmies her shoulders.
I wave my hands around again, wondering how I could possibly get this across. “We really aren’t together.”
Frankie leans in close to my ear. “Honey, if you’re up here watching him play, you’re his.”
I swallow another swig of pink as the loudspeaker booms with the announcer’s voice and the crowd starts cheering and hollering.
“Daddy!” An adorable little boy, who I assume is Jessica’s, runs to the glass and smears his hands on it.
We all step out to the edge of the box and watch as the players start piling out of the tunnel and the dancers bounce around the field.
Melody squeals when Dylan blows a kiss up toward the box, and Leo shoots Frankie some sort of hand gesture.
I stand and quickly scan the pack of athletes, looking intently for jersey No. 29, not sure why my heart is beating so fast.
It basically somersaults when I see him, tall and broad and sinfully handsome, even from all the way up here.
I keep my eyes locked on him, and butterflies swirl through me the way they did at the Bradford High School stadium when Andre would jog out onto the field, captivating everyone’s attention. It’s no different now.
I settle into a seat as they get ready for the coin toss, noticing how easily my entire cocktail has gone down.
“Here.” Whitney sits next to me, holding two hot dogs and a soft pretzel, offering me the snacks.
I raise my brows in question.
“The food in the box suite is all fancy-shmancy and weird. The downstairs concessions are where it’s at.” She waves a hot dog at me. “C’mon. Have a dog.”
“You’re a saint.” I laugh and accept the gift, the first bite keeping perfect consistency with my memories of the thousands of football games I went to as I grew up.
Over the next few hours, I ease more and more into the fun, welcoming, and vibrant environment of this suite. I look out at the field and feel the excitement of each play, the thrill of a touchdown, and the nail-biting anticipation heightened by the game clock.
Football has been a constant in my life since I can remember. As soon as we realized how insanely talented Wyatt was, my world became a whirlwind of weekend tournaments, travel games, and all-state conferences. Every one of which Andre was a part of.
It all goes together. The field, the crowds, the sport, the comfort and feeling of home it brings me. And…him.
“Wow.” I turn to Melody and Whitney, who are giggling wildly next to me. “You know, I haven’t been to a football game in a few years. I forgot how much I love it.”
“Did you get sick of it? I mean, I bet your brother lived and breathed it growing up.” Whitney nods toward the field. “They all did. They had to.”
“Exactly. That meant I lived and breathed it. Which meant my mini suitcase full of Barbie dolls was dragged to its fair share of away games. So yeah, it got a little old. But I feel like I’m seeing”—him in a new light—“the game…in a new light.”
Melody laughs. “It really is fun falling in love with the game. I know I’m a little late to the party, but still.”
“It’s a special sport,” Whitney agrees. “Brings people together like nothing else.”
I gaze out over the field and find Andre, locking my gaze on his jersey number and inhaling the mixture of newness and familiarity that seems to be the theme of today.
He’s a beast on the field, even tougher and more athletic and skilled than I remember. No wonder they’re calling him the Riders’ savior.
I slide nervously to the edge of my seat as he snatches passes right out of the air and runs faster than a damn cheetah to score multiple times. The other team can barely touch him.
The clock stops for a timeout with two minutes left in the fourth quarter. The Riders are blowing out the Titans, 38 to 10.
Melody turns to me as the whistle blows, eagerly patting her elephant-print pants with her palms. “Kendall, tell me more about what you do! I love the idea of flipping houses and totally redoing them, it’s like they’re getting a second chance. It’s beautiful.”
“It really is.” I finish off my second fruity glass. “Well, our big project right now…” I lower my voice to a hush and lean close. “It’s kind of on the down low until it actually airs, but I’m renovating a big, historic home for a televised HGTV contest called Mansion in a Month.”
“No freaking way!” Melody bursts out, loudly.
“Shhh,” I say through a laugh. “The funny thing is, it’s actually Andre’s house.”
Her jaw drops, and her eyes plead for more information. “Bury the freaking lead, why don’t you?”
“Well, we reconnected when he moved down here. I realized he just happened to buy the North Beach mansion flip of my dreams, and…here we are.”
Melody stares at me, her deep-blue gaze gleaming and her mouth forming an excited smile. “Destiny,” she whispers, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. “The universe is putting you two together. Miles apart and years going by…” She shakes her head, soft pink waves bouncing around her delicate face. “Doesn’t matter. There are clear signs.”
I look back at the field as the players jog out for the final two minutes, watching his movement and aching with how attracted I am to him. “Sure seems like it,” I say back without taking my eyes off of Andre.
“Hey, Kendall.” Whitney taps my arm. “We’re all going to the Atlantic tonight to celebrate the win! If you’re not too busy with work, you should come. I’m sure the guys are gonna bully Andre into going. Plus, watching Matt McKenzie flirt with everything that walks is always a trip.”
My brain does its usual spin through all the tasks and projects and things I could be working on and should be working on, but…I look over at Melody, eagerly awaiting my answer, and Whitney, sweet and thoughtful and welcoming.
“I’d love to,” I say happily.
As the clock ticks down and the stadium begins to celebrate the win, the box seat area fills with cheering and yelling and whooping. Baby Sam cries a little. I laugh and chat and enjoy the moment with these women, who suddenly feel like…friends.
I never thought the other players’ wives and fiancées would be the “outside-of-work girl group” I was looking for, but the energy and happiness of this crowd are contagious. My chest feels warm and light.
In the midst of the hype, I gaze out over the field, losing myself in the sunny green grass and letting my eyes fall on Andre. He just pulled his helmet off and is high-fiving another player.
Suddenly, as I’m watching him, I lean back in my seat as the realization hits me.
Andre gave me that ticket for these seats today because of what I told him in the secret room about wanting friends not related to my work. He remembered and he cared.
And now, here I am, full of joy and surrounded by new friends, and he did that…for me.
I feel a swell of emotion in my throat, and suddenly, I know I have to kiss him again.
Ten
Andre
Another solid win today, making us two and O, and a night out at everyone’s favorite nice-ass rooftop club downtown. So far, my first season in SoFlo is looking real fine, and getting my house renovated by the world’s hottest house-flipper is just an added bonus.
The Atlantic is one hell of a club, sitting at the top of a Fort Lauderd
ale high-rise, with an enormous rooftop, crazy drinks, and a postcard kind of view.
I lean against the bar and sip my whiskey, taking in a deep breath of the salty Florida air, which is still warm but not nearly as sticky up here on the roof.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes with a text in my pocket, and I feel a twinge of nerves or excitement, or something along those lines, when I pull it out and see Kendall’s name pop up on the screen.
Jesus. Who’s the one with the crush now?
Kendall Collins: Walking in now. Dude, this place is bougie AF.
I smile to myself and slide the phone back into my pocket, silently cursing the butterflies in my chest.
I swallow hard and force myself to remember what Wyatt said the other day and the entire reason behind this whole damn thing. I’m supposed to look out for her. For my friend. I didn’t ask her to come to the bar tonight, but I can’t help how secretly hyped I got when she texted me and said that some of the women invited her.
Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits.
“Hey, you.” Kendall walks across the rooftop with all that dirty-blond hair bouncing in slow motion and ripped black jeans so tight they should be illegal.
She has on a silver, shiny-looking top that’s cut just low enough to tease my imagination and heels that bring her to my neck level instead of my chest.
She always seems to be wearing the perfect clothes. It’s amazing.
“You made it.” I give her the most platonic hug I can manage and guide her toward the bar.
“This place…” She looks around, the lights of the nighttime skyline sparking in her giant blue eyes. “This view is so gorgeous.”
I keep my gaze locked on her. Yeah. It is.
“It’s something else, isn’t it? I’ve been a couple times before when I was being recruited by the team, but I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this scenery.” I nod toward the bar and give her a wink. “So, red wine, right?”
She sticks her tongue out playfully. “You suck. Gin and tonic would be great.” She lightly grazes her fingers along my forearm, then reluctantly pulls her hand away. “Thanks, Andre.”
Rough Ride Page 7
