Page 57 of Playbook
“Archer, Brogan,” he greets them and then scans the paper attached to the clipboard. “Archer, you are in the autograph tent, and Brogan…” He looks up and from Brogan to me. “You are in the autograph tent at eleven. Until then, you and your partner can help in the free health evaluation tent. Cody talked to you about the dunk tank?”
“Yep.” Brogan gives the man a nod.
“Perfect. We’ll slot you in there after you finish signing.”
“Thanks, Anthony.” Brogan claps him on the shoulder, and the guy startles a little and stumbles to regain his footing.
“Mingle and have fun!” he calls after us.
“I’ll catch you two later.” Archer turns, walking backward away from us. “Might want to hold hands or at least walk a little closer.”
Brogan’s laughter dies off as his brother gets out of hearing distance. I wipe my palm on my shorts in case he decides to take my hand. He steps maybe an inch closer, but keeps his hands to himself. Wetalked easily on the drive over, but now that we’re alone again and on display, I can’t find a single thing to say to Brogan as we cross the parking lot.
People are starting to walk around the large circle of tents and activities set up. I have to guess by the sheer space allotted for it that many more people will be coming today. A crowd has already formed at the autograph tent when we pass by it. Young kids are grinning as they get the jerseys on their backs signed, plus hats and footballs, and other miscellaneous items. Some adults are waiting too. They shake hands with the players and pose for pictures.
A local radio station has music going and it provides a euphoric background to the warm summer day.
“What do you want to do first?” Brogan asks like we’re out on a real first date with no agenda instead of on a tight schedule run by the polo-shirt-wearing Anthony. He’s wearing a big grin and looking more excited than his teammates had. “Are you hungry?”
He points at a snow cone truck. Next to it is a food tent with long cafeteria-style tables set up. The scent of hot dogs and hamburgers fills the air as we pass it.
I shake my head and bring my hands up in front of me. While twisting my fingers together, I glance over at him. He looks so comfortable in his own skin. I get that we’re on his turf, so to speak, but there isn’t any environment yet that I’ve seen him look any other way.
And I’m still nervous. I can’t put my finger on exactly why. No one is watching us and his teammates seemed to accept me easily enough, but this feels like a big deal, and I’m wondering if we can really pull it off.
“I have a surprise for you.” That boyish grin of his widens as he turns to face me.
I can’t help but smile back. He has that kind of pull, causing me to mimic his actions without being conscious of it.
“What?” I ask.
“I wasn’t sure how into the whole hanging out with strangers thing you’d be. Or hanging with me for that matter.”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, hoping to reassure him. The last thing I want is for him to worry about me when he should be working. “I can hold my own and I promise I won’t embarrass you or anything like that.”
One of his dark brows arches and his smile twists into an amused smirk. “You think I’m worried aboutyouembarrassingme.”
“You’re not?”
“That’s funny. Seriously. It’s endearing that you think you could possibly embarrass me when anyone who knows me would say there’s no way you could embarrass me more than I embarrass myself on a daily basis.”
A little of the tension I’ve been holding eases. Brogan’s gaze dips down over me and lingers on his jersey. “You look incredible, and after the way you handled my teammates, I don’t think I need to worry about you junk-punching anyone that gets out of line.”
I arch a brow. He expected people to get out of line? I thought this was a community event.
“No one will mess with you,” he says as if realizing where my thoughts had strayed. “But I feel better about leaving you alone now.”
“Leaving me alone? Where are you going?” The questions come out in a panicked squeak.
We’re standing just past the food tent and my anxiety spikes at being left to fend for myself. Despite his faith in me, I don’t know if I can handle that. What if I say the wrong thing to someone? I don’t know that much about Brogan and his time with the Mavericks.
“I’m not going far. I’ll be right there.” He tips his dark head toward a large white tent in front of us. Signs indicate free health evaluations, and I can see a line of kids waiting to have their hearing and vision tested, and some older folks having their blood pressure taken.
“And where will I be?” Hopefully not in the dunk tank.
He turns then and I do the same. Two women sit at either end of a table with children seated in front of them. Paints and brushes are scattered on top of the table. A little boy has half the Mavericks logo painted on one chubby cheek, and the girl on the other side is going for a pink heart.
“I signed you up to face paint,” Brogan says, stepping closer. It’s hot out, but I enjoy the extra warmth radiating off him. “Is that okay? If you’re not into it, I can tell Anthony that we’re so in love you can’t stand to be away from me for that long.”
