Page 28 of Hello Quarterback

Bonnie smiled back. “You, als?—”

“Come on,” Hayden groused. He snapped his fingers, and two security guards came out of the woodwork, following them to the door. I stared at them in shock. Did that really just happen?

Mia let out a giggle, and there was my answer.

The sound was so light, so unexpected, I had to laugh along. When the server came and poured her a glass of wine and me a seltzer water, I lifted my glass.

“What are we toasting?” she asked.

“Your epic roast of Hayden French,” I replied. “A French roast if you will.”

She tossed her head back, laughing. “I didn’t roast him! I just... maneuvered well.”

She might have played it off like it was no big deal, but I was seriously amazed by her. She could have let the awkward situation drag on, but I loved that she held her own, without even batting an eye. She was a strong woman, something I admired. Then a genuine smile formed on my lips. “And let’s toast to our first meal as a couple.”

I couldn’t be certain, but just before she clinked her glass to mine, I thought I saw her features fall.

17

MIA

A dozenconflicting feelings tugged at my chest as we pulled up to my building after the date. Enjoying dinner with Ford had been so easy, like sliding into a warm bath. But then he would say something that reminded me it was all for show, and disappointment would seep through me stronger than a shot of whiskey.

Sitting next to him on the limo ride home was like walking a tightrope in my own mind, trying not to fall for him and trying not to be saddened he wasn’t falling for me.

By the time Zeke parked the limo in the parking garage, all my nerves were frayed, and I could have easily slid into bed and slept for the next twenty-four hours. But I had some work to do the next day. With the football game Sunday morning, I needed to research in preparation for meeting with some stakeholders and potential partners in Griffen Industries’ suite.

Zeke opened the door for me, and I went to get out, but Ford took my hand. “One second, Zeke,” he called. Then he said to me, “Hold on, I have something for you.”

I turned to look at him, surprised. “You do?” I hadn’t seen anything in the car.

But now that he was reaching toward the corner, I realized there was a black box I hadn’t noticed against the black leather seats. He held it in his large hands, then pulled it open, showing a purple and white jersey inside. Upon lifting it out, I realized printed on the back was his name and number.

I held it gingerly in my hands, the slick material soft under my fingertips.

“I had it made for you,” he said gently. “I thought you could wear it to the game.”

“Oh...” I looked from him to the jersey, my features falling.

“What?” he asked, confused. “I thought it would be good for the press?”

Another pang strummed at my heartstrings. “That’s not it. I just can’t wear this in the suite when I’m supposed to be working. I need to be in business professional—even at a game.”

“Ah,” he said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked a little disappointed too.

I made to hand the jersey back to him, but he shook his head. “You keep it. Maybe it would make a good nightgown. I remember my brothers and I used to wear my dad’s old jerseys to bed.”

The peek at his past made my lips curl up. “Thank you. And good luck on Sunday.”

His smile was warm as his blue eyes. “Thank you, Mia.”

Something about hearing him say my name made my stomach swoop. So before he could see me react, I tucked the jersey back in the box and stepped out of the car. Giving Zeke a quick thanks and good night, I went to my private elevator. Once the doors opened, I got in and turned to watch the slick black car leaving the garage, taking Ford Madigan with it.

Heaving a sigh, I shucked my heels and waited for the elevator to take me upstairs. The marble floor was cold againstmy tender feet. The lift whooshed as I was carried to the uppermost floor of my building.

When the doors slid open, I set my shoes by the entrance and went farther into my penthouse, the jersey box still tucked snugly under my arm. The entryway light was on and waiting for me, but I had to turn on the light as I went to the living room, with its cushy beige chairs, the coffee table crafted from driftwood and glass.

Everything had its place, from the art on the wall to the bowl of fruit on the kitchen island. There were hints of my success everywhere, including the floor-to-ceiling view of the city, glittering with lights below. But there was no sign of a relationship outside of my close friend, Farrah, and my parents.

---