Page 36 of Broken Play
Now it's me who gets a little pink. Anyone listening could take it to mean we've been together. And it's not lost on me that this is exactly his intention, planting a seed for Bodhi.
Not wanting to set Bodhi off, I clarify, "All I did was trade for Cozen to protect your blind side."
"You want to keep me safe," Greyson says as he jogs off toward the forty-yard line. "Enjoy the game. This one's for you, Sutton."
Greyson's words hang in the air like a Hail Mary pass downfield, and I can feel Bodhi's gaze on me, trying to do the math, wondering if I've been with Greyson. Warmth blooms on my cheeks at the way Greyson says it, half teasing, half possessive.
Bodhi straightens and draws his shoulders tighter. He clamps his jaw shut and shifts it to the side, the way he does whenever he feels challenged, on or off the court. Suddenly, every nerve tingles, with Bodhi next to me and Greyson strutting toward his teammates. An uncomfortable buzz zips through me at the thought of being caught in the middle of two men who both want something from me.
Bodhi reaches for my arm, and a ghost pain shoots through me as I remember what he's capable of. Knowing him like the back of my hand, I can tell he's fuming at Greyson's innuendo.
Greyson is the first man since Bodhi to set me on fire in the best of ways. Even though we've only kissed, hekissed me like I was his last breath—at least, that's how it felt to me. The problem is I'm technically his boss.
"Okay, let's get up to the suite," I say to Anna, Francisco, and Bodhi. He tries to slip his hand into mine, but I grab the wheelchair and start pushing.
The buffet in the owner's suite is loaded with expensive food, most of which I don't like, but I take notes so I can ask our food service division what we offer.
Anna and Francisco are so loving toward each other, making me long for that type of relationship. He always has his hand on her back, or he's stroking her leg. I guess Bodhi picks up on it and does the same thing to me. I let his hand rest on my leg for a moment but then get up, making an excuse that I need to return some calls that I've ignored long enough.
I can't get out of the room fast enough.
I meet up with the owners of the New York franchise, and they let me use one of their offices. I turn my laptop on for only the second time since I've been gone, and thousands of messages litter my inbox, most of which Marlon has taken care of. He told me if it's marked as read, he has taken care of it. My goal is to get through at least half of them. There's an email from Frank Cozen.
Ms. Anders,
I wasn't an English major, so forgive my grammar, but I wanted to thank you for believing that I should be the one to protect our quarterback. I promise I'll do my best to keep him upright.
He's the best man I know, not just as a quarterback. And he's worth every penny you're paying me to protect his blind side.
Hopefully, I'll be an Armadillo for the rest of my career.
Thanks for the opportunity,
Frank Cozen
Hitting reply, I type out:
Frank,
Call me Sutton. I have faith in you and your skills. I know you're the one for the job.
He needs more than a left tackle; he needs a friend from his old team.
I can't wait to meet your family.
Sincerely,
Sutton Anders
For me, Frank's email confirms that I made the right decision. Now let's just hope I'm proven correct on the field.
The rest of the emails are finance-related—approving expenditures—and I find out from Human Resources that my stepbrother has accepted the position and is starting on Monday. Marlon assures me that when Heath finishes watching all the HR videos, he'll show him around and do his orientation since I plan on staying in New York until Anna figures out whether she's going back to Europe or staying here for a while.
It takes about an hour alone, but I get through most of my unread emails. I still have a few presentations to watch on marketing campaigns and merchandise ideas for games, but that can wait. I rejoin my friends, and the game is about to start.
I'm on pins and needles, hoping Frank comes through and keeps Greyson from hitting the turf.
I close my laptop and walk back to the suite. Above the field, the lights burn bright and merciless, but for the first time all week, I let myself believe I just might belong here.
