by K. K. Allen
“We’ve already got a line started on the end of the food truck there.” He points at a line that almost reaches the back of the gate.
“How long have they been here?”
Bentley chuckles. “I forget you’re not from Seattle. We take our sports seriously, and that includes starting the pre-party at seven a.m.”
My eyes grow huge. Jeez. No wonder Monica was in a rush to get here. “Everyone’s been drinking since seven?” I squeal and stare back at the crowd. “Are they going to remember the game once it’s over?”
He chuckles and shrugs. “Not our problem. Kara took the first shift, but the crowd is filling out, so we need you. Do you understand your mission?”
I catch myself before I salute the tall slick-haired blond and simply nod, letting him place the stack of tickets in my hands.
“Great. If you need more, come see me.”
I walk off. After only a couple weeks of working with the booze-loving team, I know the drill. Have fun, be part of the crowd, flirt, strut, and through my sexual prowess, sell the Tito’s-wannabe liquor like it’s the new Smartwater. I definitely don’t hate the gig, and I’m happy with the payout. A few events a week combined with my new job at Edible Desire should bring in enough to live on until I discover that perfect dream job Monica is so sure I’ll find.
For now, I’m okay with the in-between. I’m okay with not knowing where I’m going to end up. But I hope I figure it out soon, before the anxiety hits and before the feelings of failure seep into my bloodstream like poison.
I don’t want to believe that modeling was all I’ll ever be great at. There has to be more to this life. Deep down, I can feel that there is.
My smile is currently aimed at a hottie wearing the opposing team’s jersey—which I find a strange comfort in—when someone sidles up to my right and hooks their arm in mine. I turn to see Monica with a giant grin on her face. I already saw her in full attire this morning, but now that I’m wide awake and staring at her under a perfect sunlit sky, I can’t help but smile.
She looks ridiculously cute with her Ryan jersey over a fitted gold hoodie that matches the stripe around her upper arm. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. Her shimmery purple heart earrings match the getup. And even though she’s wearing super cute boots that give her some lift, I still dwarf her in height.
“Hey,” I say with a laugh. “How’s the pregaming?”
“Amazing, of course,” Monica says with a pop of her heels. “I heard the hot chick in the Seattle jersey is handing out White Water drink tickets.” She nudges me and wiggles her brows. “By the way, I’m talking about you, sis.”
I roll my eyes, rip a few tickets from the stack, and hand them to her with a wink. “Knock yourself out. Who are you here with?”
Just then, the familiar auburn-haired girl I’d come to know as Monica’s best friend, Chloe, approaches, smiling, along with another girl I don’t recognize. “Hey, Maggie. Good to see you again,” Chloe says. “Do you know Jazz?”
I shake my head and greet them both fondly. I’m happy to know that my sister has picked some good friends to hang out with. I hand them both a few coupons, ignoring Bentley’s request to keep drink tickets to a one-per-person minimum. Obviously, he didn’t mean my friends.
“Did you decide if you want to come to the game?” Monica perks up. “I can start asking around for an extra ticket.” She wiggles her brows, and I just laugh.
Chloe jumps in. “Oh! I can ask around too. Gavin’s friends are always trying to sell a few tickets.”
Monica grins then starts to look around like she’s searching for something or someone. “Speaking of your fiancé, where did he go?”
Chloe points at the food truck. “He’s hungry, like always.”
I look at where Chloe is pointing, and I spot Gavin almost immediately. Then I notice the guy next to him. My chest heats, and I squint to make out the figure better. “Is that Desmond?”
“Yup.” Monica laughs. “We usually meet up before the game. There’s a bunch of us over there.” She points at a corner with a group of tall, round tables pulled together. I never realized Monica had so many friends here, but clearly I haven’t made any attempts to step out much, especially not to a game on a Sunday.
Not wanting to dive deeper into conversations about Desmond, I turn my focus on Chloe. “You must be excited about your wedding next week. Monica showed me her bridesmaid’s dress, and it’s stunning.”
Chloe beams, and there’s a certain glow about her that squeezes my chest a little. “Excited, yes, but I think I’m more nervous than anything. I mean, we’re keeping it pretty small, but my nerves grow crazier every day.”
“You’re going to look stunning. I’m so excited for you.”
Chloe smiles with her appreciation. “You should come.”
Monica gasps, and her eyes light up. “Oh my gosh, yes. You can be my date!” She squeals.
I laugh. “I thought Zach was going to be your date.”
Monica frowns. “He doesn’t know if he can come yet since he’s got a game the next day. He needs to get clearance from Coach.”
Monica doesn’t even blink when she calls our dad Coach, and it weirds me out a little. “Jeez, Dad won’t even let him go to a wedding?”
My sister immediately jumps to our dad’s defense. “Zach’s kind of important, Mags. He’d rather not have his player taking red-eyes when they have a game the next day.”
I just shake my head, hoping we can drop the subject of Dad. I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Well, you should come anyway, Maggie,” Chloe says with a smile. “You don’t need to come as anyone’s date. We’re having a short ceremony and a big, long reception. Open bar. DJ. You’ll love it.”
“Please come.” Monica bats her lashes up at me with pleading puppy-dog eyes. “There will be so many hotties there too. We’ll find you a man.” She loops her arm through mine. “Who wouldn’t want to date a hot model?”
“Ex-model,” I correct her while I laugh at her lame attempt at hooking me up.
Chloe laughs. “I promise, there are plenty of good options. In fact, a lot of them are here today. Come meet our friends, Maggie.”
I hesitate for a second. “I should get back to work.”
Monica looks up at me with a wink. “All you have to do is hand them one of those babies, and they’ll want to be your best friend forever.”
I laugh at the reference to the White Water drink tickets in my hands. “Noted.”
Chloe takes the lead and introduces me to their friends. She tells them who I am and what I’m doing dressed like a Seattle dancer. And just as Monica predicted, they are overexuberant to meet me. I make my way to the center of the group, where I meet a guy named Justin and his friend Blaine.
All of a sudden, a deep voice speaks up from behind me. “What does a guy have to do for one of those?”
A shiver skates up my spine at the familiar raspy voice that is filled with flirtation. When I swivel around to face him, his eyes widen a few too many inches, and his jaw falls in shock. “Maggie?” he practically squeals. Then he scans the length of me, and his eyes bulge out a little bit farther. “Holy shit, I didn’t recognize you. What are you doing here?”
It’s impossible to hold back my laughter. He was hitting on me, and he didn’t even know it was me. “Workin’. I’d ask you what you’re doing here, but I already know.” I wink and hold up a drink ticket. “Looking for one of these?”
He is still wearing his shocked expression as his eyes dart everywhere. They’re on my breasts when I slip the ticket into his hand and step forward. “Good to know you don’t hate everything about me.” Then I brush past him, trying to ignore the rush that fills my blood from the simple touch.
I’m halfway across the beer garden when Desmond manages to catch up to me. “Wait a second. You can’t just walk off like that.”
I tilt my head and lock eyes with him. “Actually, I can. I’m working, and I have about a million
more of these things to hand out. See, this is a job I’m actually good at.”
Desmond makes a face and shakes his head. “You said something about me hating you back there, and I want you to know I don’t. We may not get along, but that doesn’t mean I think badly of you. I like to tease you a lot, and maybe I come off like an ass. You and I—we’re just different. And you’re good at plenty of things, just not at cooking.” He grins at his last comment, like he can’t help himself.
I growl and start to push him, then I realize that touching him is too intimate. I pull my hand away like it’s been burned. Then I think about something. “Wait a second. Isn’t Seattle playing Dallas today? You grew up in Dallas and cheered for the Cowboys growing up, and now you’re wearing a Seattle jersey? You’re almost as bad as my sister.”
Desmond chuckles. “You really expect me to cheer for Dallas when my best friend is leading Seattle to a victory?”
I shrug. “I expect you to be true to your roots. Are you even a Seattle fan if you’re just going to change your colors the moment Zach gets traded?”
He raises a brow, and I immediately regret my statement. “Guess I’ve got six years to figure that out, don’t I? Besides, he’s not my only friend on the team.”
“That’s right. Balko is a bestie, isn’t he?” I grin, knowing that even though I’m barely saying a word, it’s pissing him the hell off.
He huffs out a breath. “Why do I even bother?”
I shrug. “I was wondering the same thing myself.”
“What about you? You coming to the game?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t really fit in if you know what I mean.”
He makes a point of scrolling over my outfit again before chewing on his bottom lip. “I think you would fit in just fine.” His eyes snap to mine. “What if I told you I have an extra ticket?”
“I’d say you’d better find someone who can stand you enough to stand with you.” I grin at my joke while Desmond smirks.
“Maybe it’s you who hates me, not the other way around.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Really? As much as you hate cooking?”
“Worse.”
He laughs, and as hard as I’m trying not to flirt with him, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m doing.
He tsks while shaking his head. “That’s unfortunate because I bet you’d be an instant Seattle fan if you gave it a chance.”
I can’t deny that there’s an insane curiosity bouncing around the back of my mind—to experience the game again and to see my dad. But becoming a fan is a little much. “Oh yeah? How much do you want to wager?”
I can tell that throws him off track by the way his expression changes from playful to serious. “Wait, so you’ll actually go?”
“Do you actually have an extra ticket?”
Desmond digs in his back pocket and pulls out two tickets. “I usually bring a date. Or sometimes I meet a girl here and ask her to sit with me,” he says with a proud grin. “But I could let you have this today if you’re serious about coming.”
I narrow my lids at him. Did he just say what I think he said? “You seriously do that? Just meet a random girl and then ask her to sit with you at a football game? How desperate are you?”
“First of all, we stand. No one sits at a football game. But going back to your questions—I’ve found it’s a better way to meet women than online or at the bar. This way, at least we have a common interest.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenge. “If your interests are so common, why do they need a ticket to the game?”
He throws his head back and chuckles. “Most of them forego their tickets to come with me. They give their tickets to a friend who otherwise wouldn’t have been able to go.”
Damn it. I really wanted to make a point but failed per usual when it came to Desmond.
“So let’s get back on track,” he says. “Are you coming with me today, or do I need to find another lucky lady to accompany me?”
I stare back at the ticket and swallow. “I’m not sure. How much is my presence worth to you?”
He’s smiling again. “Well, you’d have to stand next to me through the entire game.”
“I might sit, but okay. What else?”
He laughs. “You have to have fun.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “You can’t force a person to have fun.”
“You can at least try.”
“Okay, fine. If I stand there for the whole game and try to have fun, then what do I get?”
“My company isn’t enough?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Then I don’t know. A hundred bucks?”
I cringe. “I’m not your paid escort. I was thinking more like free meals for a month. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You’re buying.”
“Okay, but one week, not a month. You probably won’t even still be in Seattle in a month.”
“You have a point.” I hold out my hand, and we shake, our eyes locking until I pull my hand away with a sharp gasp. “I need to get back to work. I’m off in three hours.”
Desmond grins. “Perfect.”
I don’t know what has him all giddy, but it’s hard to think of anything else but his satisfied smile as I walk around and try to make conversation with the crowd. Everyone seems to be well-intoxicated, which only makes me feel like I have a lot of catching up to do when I finally tell Bentley I’m clocking out.
The beer garden has emptied out quite a bit since I got there, and Desmond is waiting for me at one of the tables with a drink. He grins. “On me.”
I laugh because I recognize the signature White Water label on the glass. He must have used one of my free drink tickets to get it. “Remind me never to call you a cheap date.”
He winks. “Oh, I’ll spoil you rotten today, babe. Beer, hot dogs. I don’t know what you models eat, but the only salads they serve at the games have more calories than a pepperoni pizza. So if I were you, I’d opt for the pepperoni.”
A bouncy body sidles up to me. “I heard the good news.” Monica is grinning from ear to ear, and if I didn’t know better, I would think that she expects something to happen between Desmond and me.
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Free meals for a week. I’m no dummy. I accepted even though it means hanging out with this thug.”
Desmond gasps in mock admonishment. “I’m no thug. I’m actually quite the gentleman.”
Monica looks up at him and laughs. “Okay, then. I’ll see you two inside.” She points at Desmond. “Take care of my sister. Don’t let her ruin your fun.”
“Oh no, that’s part of the deal,” he says as he swings an arm over my shoulder. “She has to have fun.”
“I have to try,” I correct.
Desmond winks at me. “You won’t have to try with me.”
16
False Start
Desmond
Alcohol is definitely not part of my plan for getting Maggie to loosen up today. Sure, the girl is as frigid as a Canadian winter, but I’m optimistic. How could someone who grew up on football not have fun at a live game? What I’m not expecting is for Maggie to take it upon herself to down three shots of White Water vodka in just a few minutes.
“Going a little hard there, aren’t you, Mags?”
She shrugs as a giggle slips from her sexy throat. “You’re driving, not me.”
I chuckle. “That’s presumptuous of you. Who said I was driving you home?”
This time, she glares and steps right up until she’s under my nose. “This is a pretty shitty date if you’re not even going to drive me home.”
A laugh bursts straight from my chest. “Who said we’re on a date?”
She tilts her head and practically purrs. “You did offer me your extra ticket to the game, one you would have otherwise used to bribe one of these poor women to go on a date with you—which, by the way, makes me some sort of saint. So yes, this is a date.”
“You going to put out afterwards too?”
Her lips curl up at the corners. “Not a chance in hell.”
That makes me grin. “Then our definitions of date are very different.”
Maggie snorts. “Who are you kidding? We both know you won’t let me find a different ride home after the game.”
When she bats her eyes up at me playfully and knowingly, something catches in my chest. We both know she’s not wrong.
We walk to the stadium with Monica, Chloe, Gavin, and the rest of our friends. Then we detach when we get to the concession stand near where our seats are.
“Want something to eat or drink?” I ask her.
Maggie looks up at the board then tells me she wants a beer but nothing else. I order two hot dogs, two beers, and a pretzel, then we make our way to our row. Monica’s seats are an entire section down and to the right of us.
“Here.” I shove a hot dog in front of Maggie’s nose. “You should eat something.”
She makes a face and pushes the hot dog away. “I can’t eat that. Do you know how many toxins are in that thing?”
I shrug and stuff half of a dog into my mouth, chew, swallow, and take a sip of beer. “Probably just as much as those three White Water shots you took back in the beer garden.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here, aren’t I? Now you and my sister can shut up about the Seattle experience. After today, not another word.”
I grin. “You ain’t seen nothing like it, babe.”
“Stop calling me babe.”
“Why? I thought you were my date.”
She rolls her eyes, causing me to laugh.
“Relax,” I say, setting her foil-wrapped hot dog on the cup holder in front of her. “We’re going to have a good time, I’m going to take you home without molesting you, and then you can sleep off your hangover while dreaming about me all night long.”
“You are such a cocky one, aren’t you?”
I grin. “You have no idea.”
We have time before the game actually starts, so Maggie and I settle into our seats. Her eyes are fixed on the field, and I wonder if she’s searching for Coach. I don’t dare ask for fear our almost-good time will turn into something I’m not sure she’s ready for.
