“Right. Well, we’re here.” He shrugged. “So you can stop worrying about Momma and go back to worrying about Brock.” He patted her knee, closed the DFLM folder, and slid it back into her black-and-white-striped bag.
Sawyer pulled into the parking lot outside of a large warehouse. He parked, opened their doors, and trailed behind them across the parking lot.
“Vitamin water.” Melanie held out Emmy’s bright-pink insulated thermos.
“Where’s mine?” Travis asked.
Melanie didn’t acknowledge the question.
Emmy grinned, peeking over her shoulder at Sawyer. He was scanning the parking lot, on alert. Since the whole nightmare of an attack on her sister, her father insisted Sawyer never leave her side. They’d always had security, but this was different. Before, their security guards—the Kings Guard—hung back and blended in. Now, they were front and center and unmistakable. A warning to anyone who felt the need to come after a King.
If anyone needs a massage, it’s Sawyer. But the idea of Sawyer relaxing on a table while a stranger touched him was ridiculous. She smiled at him as he held the door to the warehouse open for them. “Thanks, Sawyer.”
His nod was slight, his blue-green gaze sweeping over the parking lot before following them inside. She’d always considered Sawyer a monster of a man…until she walked into a room with four professional football players. A wall of lights was set up, a large step-and-repeat hung—the Drug Free Like Me logo stamped at regular intervals—and a photographer was already snapping pictures.
Instead of scanning the room for Brock, she focused on the photo shoot in progress. Demetrius Mansfield posed, arms crossed and scowling at the camera. Encased in his uniform, it was impossible to miss just how massive the man was.
“Like a statue,” Melanie whispered, her mouth hanging open. “I’ll get some pics and video to post later.”
Emmy nodded, the familiar chaos of the photo shoot oddly comforting.
“This is going to be a serious ding to my ego,” Travis whispered in her ear.
Emmy laughed, tempted to point out that these men were professional athletes—their bodies were their business.
“You, too, man. Next to him, you’re a slacker,” Travis said to Sawyer. “Maybe we need to hit the gym?”
Sawyer glanced between the athletes and Travis. “How much time are you willing to put in?” A flicker of a smile, then it was gone.
“Harsh, man.” Travis shook his head.
“Miss King. I’m Shalene Fowler.” A woman in a Drug Free Like Me T-shirt and jeans hurried across the room, dodging the maze of cords and plugs as she went. “It’s so nice to meet you. Really. I’m the marketing and event manager for the DFLM Foundation. I can’t tell you how excited we are that you’ve decided to help with this year.”
Emmy shook the woman’s hand. “Thanks for having me, since I’m not a player and all.”
“Well, you’re the new voice for AFL, so that’s pretty close. And if you’re agreeable to it, we’d like to make you an honorary player. I know you’re on a schedule, so we’ll do this as quickly as possible.” She smiled. “We have hair and makeup this way.”
Emmy Lou followed Shalene to the mobile vanity in the back corner of the room.
“We have a jersey for each of the teams.” She pointed at the clothing rack. “We tried to get the players to agree on one but, as you can see, that didn’t go over well.”
“Team loyalty, I guess.” Emmy Lou smiled.
Once she’d donned the blue-and-grey jersey of the Miami Raiders and her hair and makeup was camera ready, she was ushered to the Drug Free Like Me step-and-repeat and Demetrius Mansfield.
“Miss King.” Demetrius held out his hand. “Nice to meet you in person.”
“Emmy, please.” She stared up at him, shaking a hand that was bigger than her head. “Great to meet you. I’m a big fan. I—we—” She broke off, pointing at Travis. “We were all sad to lose you to Miami.”
“Roughnecks fans?” he asked.
“Always.” She smiled.
“Can’t fault you there. Good team.” He nodded. “Number three, huh?” He eyed her jersey.
“You know, Three Kings?” She glanced down at the large three on her jersey. “I guess you could say it’s my lucky number.”
He chuckled.