Beauty and the Baller

Sonia smirks. “Maybe.”

“What time are we eating?” I ask, my tone casual, like I was invited. Part of me wishes I had been.

“Six,” she says.

I capture her gaze. “I’ll be there. I need to pick up the Heisman and check in on Vader. What should I bring?”

She takes a bite of her sandwich, frowning, as if she knows I’m serious. “Um, well—”

“Speaking of dinner, who’s coming to the big fundraiser gala?” Melinda says, cutting Nova off. “My dad mailed out over five hundred invitations, and most of them replied they’d be there. At a thousand dollars a person, it’s pretty amazing.” She glances at Sonia’s T-shirt and sniffs. “The attire is dressy, by the way.”

“I want some of those bacon-wrapped mushrooms they had last year,” Skeeter says, then throws a look at Sonia. “You’re going?”

A carrot stick falls from her hands. “Uh . . . why are you asking?”

“Just making conversation,” he mutters. “So? Are you?”

She blinks. “Um, yeah, I guess so.”

Skeeter nods. “Is that accountant guy coming with you?”

“Um . . . he . . . uh . . .” Sonia stops and jumps up and dashes to the trash, where she coughs, then spits out a piece of carrot.

Nova gets up to go check on her, patting her on the back. Sonia nods that she’s okay, and they come back to the table.

“Are you coming, Nova?” Melinda asks, her gaze hard. “Staff gets to come for free, of course.”

Nova smiles at Melinda, her sweet/sly one. “Of course. I’ll be with Ronan.”

“How fun,” Melinda replies as she stabs her broccoli with a fork.

With her elbow on the table, Nova puts her face in her palm as she gazes at me. “I’m trying to decide which jacket you need. The gray one. Oh! The tie . . . hmm . . . maybe the blue, the one with the little checks, or that pretty maroon one for the Bobcats?”

“Whichever one you want me to wear, babe. Should we match? Which dress are you going for? That black one looks great on you.”

She gives me a “You’re so amazing” smile. “Or we can contrast? You wear the maroon tie, and I’ll do a navy or gold dress?”

“Perfect,” I purr.

“It’s a date,” Nova says dreamily. “I can’t wait to dance with you.”

Melinda slams down her glass of tea. “Well! Aren’t you two just . . . perfect!”

“Yes, we are,” I say as I meet Andrew’s stare. Satisfaction ripples through me. That’s right, asshole. She’s mine.

He drops his gaze, but he doesn’t fool me. I recognize the emotion simmering behind his eyes. Want.

Nova reaches over to caress my shoulder, then touch my hair.

“You like my hair, don’t you?” I say, lowering my voice.

“So much,” she purrs. “Messy pretty. I need to try a braid on it, give you a Viking look.”

“Not for the gala, though. Maybe tonight after dinner.” I give her a kiss on her nose.

“I do love Vikings,” Nova says on a soft sigh.

Sonia grins. “Bloody hell, you two are sickening!”

“Sorry, I guess we get carried away,” I murmur. Not sorry.

Nova’s lashes fall to her cheeks. “We’re just”—she bites her lip—“so in love.”

There’s a silence, and my breath hitches as the air in the room seems to disappear. In love? My hands clench under the table, pushing back the fear those words bring.

“Totally,” I manage to say.

Melinda jerks up from her seat and flounces out of the lounge. Andrew chews his food as if it’s nails, a scowl on his face.

“Coach, do you think you could spare some of your players to dress out for the basketball scrimmage this week? Bruno is my best man, and we need him,” he says, his tone sharp.

I shake my head. “I need them on the field. We’re ranked two, and Huddersfield is one. It’s down to the wire.”

Skeeter nods. “True that, Andrew. We’ve got to tighten our game.”

“The analysts are saying Huddersfield has the best defense,” Andrew replies.

“And we have the top offense,” I counter.

He lets it drop, then pulls a small wrapped box out of his satchel. “Hey, Nova. I’ve been meaning to give this to you for a while. My gift. Congrats on becoming a member of the staff.”

Nova unwraps the box and pulls out a maroon coffee mug with BBHS on it. She stares at it with a frown, blinks, and then gives him a blinding smile. “Wow. Thank you! I love it.”

I take my hat off and run a hand through my hair, feeling twitchy. I glance over, and Nova’s eyes are on me, narrowed. She glances at Skeeter, then motions her head to the door. She’s trying to tell me something . . . I lift my shoulders. What?

She rolls her eyes at my lack of understanding, then murmurs, “You ready to head to the field house, darling?”

There’s still fifteen minutes left in lunch, but I nod and pack up my things. Andrew watches us as we toss our trash, then head out the door.