Sacked (The New York Nighthawks 1)

“Will I see you tomorrow?” I asked nonchalantly as I went about packing up her meal.

“Of course, I’ll be there to take pictures.” Her lips curled down a little. “Or did we miss something tonight?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she was thinking hard.

“No, baby. But I have some ideas that I’d like to run by you.”

“Me?” she squeaked, clearly shocked.

“You’re the expert,” I confirmed as I placed my hand on her lower back to guide her to the front door.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t sell yourself short, baby,” I interrupted with a frown. “Nixon is right. You need to be more confident.” I stared into her eyes and added, “You are an incredible woman, Naomi. Gorgeous, smart, sweet—the whole fucking package.”

She looked like she might melt right into my arms, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back for saying the right thing. Hopefully, I’d make her fall in love with me with record speed. Because I was ready to claim her.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, her cheeks pink, and I wanted so badly to pull her into my arms and kiss her. But she went up on her toes to press her lips to my jaw—she couldn’t reach my cheek—for just a second, then dashed off to her car.

I watched her get in and drive away before heading back inside to my cold, lonely bed.

Not for long.

7

Naomi

Coming to the stadium when the Nighthawks were practicing was a totally different experience from being here for Sunday’s game. Without the reverie from all of the tailgaters, it felt as though I was walking through a ghost town. There weren’t any cars in the parking lots except for the one reserved for players and staff, and I didn’t see a single person until I reached the security guard at the door. “How can I help you today, miss?”

“I’m Nixon Scott’s sister.” I pulled my driver’s license out of my purse to show him. “He wanted me to come and take some photos for his social media.”

The guard glanced down at my identification before checking something on the tablet he was holding in his left hand. Then he nodded with a smile. “Yup, I have you right here.”

Even though I knew I had permission to be at the stadium during practice, I felt a rush of relief at the confirmation that the guard wasn’t going to question me. “Good.”

“It wasn’t your brother who put you on the list, though,” he added as he handed my license back to me.

I tucked my identification back into my purse. “Pardon?”

“Prentice Wright came down himself to make sure you got this when you arrived.” He twisted around to pull a lanyard out of the plastic bin sitting on the stool to his right. “You must be someone special to rate the VIP treatment.”

My brows drew together. “How come?”

“I rarely give out one of these.” He tapped the badge before handing it to me. “This is an all-access pass to the facilities. You can go pretty much wherever you want, and I was instructed to let you know that it doesn’t have the usual expiration date. You’re welcome to come and go as you please during the entire season.”

“That is very cool.” I flashed him a grin as I slid the lanyard over my head and settled the badge in the valley between my breasts.

“If you’re planning to take photos of the players, they’re on the field right now.” Stepping to the side so I could move past him, he pointed toward the hallway to his left. “You’ll want to head that way for the most direct route.”

“Thanks.”

I followed his directions, and a couple of minutes later, I heard whistles and male yells. Pulling my camera from my purse, I popped off the lens cover and tucked it back inside. When I stepped into the sunlight, I paused to snap a few photos of the field without focusing on a specific player. Then I moved to the sideline and searched for the familiar face of my brother or Prentice.

The defensive line was practicing on this end of the field, so I spotted Nixon first. I got some great pics as they ran through several drills, lifting my hand to wave at my brother when he finally noticed me and called, “Hey, Mims!”

His attention was recaptured by the defensive line coach, and I moved farther down the sideline in search of Prentice. It wasn’t difficult to find him since he was doing passing drills with the wide receivers. With his entire focus on his teammates, I was able to get incredible action shots of him before I lowered my camera to stare in awe. It was different watching him play now that I knew him—including the way his mouth tasted and how his hands felt on my body—even just during practice.