Page 46 of The Riskiest Move

Thor: I’m not the reason. You are.

These two are being ridiculous. Rogan had the right idea. I remove myself from the chat, knowing one of them will just add me back in tomorrow, and get ready for bed.

I’m aboutto knock when the door opens and Scarlett’s standing in front of me in a shoulder-baring red dress. For a second, I lose all capability of speaking, and when I finally grasp on to something to say, all that comes out is a hoarse, “wow.”

She smiles. “Wow yourself. You wear a penguin suit well.”

Her compliment snaps me out of my Scarlett daze. “Thanks. You look beautiful. Every man at the gala is going to envy me.”

“Aww, thank you. That’s so sweet.”

“I mean it.” She’s literally breathtaking.

“I’m ready to go, unless you want to come inside for a few minutes.”

“No. We should leave in case we hit traffic.”

She locks up and then takes hold of my arm as I escort her to my car, her high heels clicking against the pavement. I open thedoor, and she slips inside, thanking me. She gathers the material of her long skirt, allowing me to close her in. While I make my way around to the other side, I try to slow my breathing. Since I set eyes on her in that sinful red dress, my heart’s been racing like a quarter horse about to be let out of the gate. I draw in a final long, slow breath before I get behind the wheel.

As I drive away from Scarlett’s house, I steal another glance at her. She catches me looking and gives me a warm smile.

“So, are you ready for this gala?” I ask, trying to focus on the road ahead.

Scarlett nods. “I think so. I’ve been to a few of these with my parents, but I’m still a little nervous. These fancy events aren’t really my scene.”

“Mine either,” I admit. “But we’ll get through it together.”

“My hero,” she says in a playful tone.

“How has your week been going?” I ask.

“My next podcast aired, and I’ll start working on planning next week’s tomorrow. What about you?”

“Practice has been tough. Coach came down hard on us after the loss.”

“That has to suck.”

“Yeah, especially when he pulls out film from the game, highlighting all the errors we made.”

She sits up and turns toward me. “Wait. He actually calls out the players who made mistakes?”

“Yes, he does, and it fucking sucks.”

“Did you get called out?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“But I don’t remember you dropping any passes,” she says.

“I didn’t get open on a couple of plays.”

She gasps. “How is that your fault?”

I smile at the outrage in her voice. “It’s my job to make sure I’m open.”

She relaxes back into her seat with an audible huff. “Your coach sounds like a jerk.”

“While I appreciate you having my back, he’s only doing his job. He’s the boss holding us accountable for how we play. And don’t forget we make a lot of money to do so.”

---