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Chapter Sixteen

KADEN

“ W ould you like a few more sandwiches, Mr. Gunner? The refills are free, although I’m sure you can afford all the sandwiches you want.

” The waiter trips over his words in his eagerness to serve me, but I appreciate the service.

He must’ve noticed how I inhaled the little slivers of bread and cheese spread that filled the second level of the three-tiered serving dish.

The top has desserts, and the bottom is filled with scones.

I went straight for the middle section, which had four different kinds of sandwiches: a roast beef one, a tuna one, one with only cucumbers and some white spread, and a salmon one.

They were all good, although the cucumber one kind of just tasted like I was eating the bagel and cream cheese without the bagel.

“Can you just make me one big roast beef sandwich instead of like twenty small ones?”

Ryan, the waiter, grimaces. “I’m sorry. All the items are pre-made, but no one is going to blink an eye if you eat twenty little sandwiches. Honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever had an athlete here before. When we saw your name on the reservation sheet, we thought it was your mom or sister.”

The poor man wrings his hands. I think if I press the issue, he might start crying. “It’s all good. Fill her up.” I point to the empty tier. He nods and hustles off.

Frankie watches this whole exchange with amusement. “Did you look at the menu online or is this all a surprise?”

“I couldn’t really understand it. When it said finger sandwiches I thought it meant we’d eat sandwiches with our fingers, not that the slices would be a finger’s width.” I hook my finger around the delicate handle of the teacup and take a sip. It’s more flavorful than I thought it would be.

“We can leave if you want.”

“No way. This is cool. The sandwiches are tasty, and these scones and jam are the bomb. It’s just smaller servings than I’m used to.

It’s pretty here.” I stretch out my legs under the marble-topped table.

The soft booths are all covered in a faded mint-green velvet, and a lighter green floral pattern is papered onto the walls.

The carpet is a plush, deep brown, giving almost a woodland feel to the place.

Three massive crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and golden sconces placed between the arched windows provide the light.

Frankie looks like a pink jewel in the midst of the greenery, like a flower blooming in the forest.

Her suit coat and skirt cost almost as much as a car, but her face glowed when Mrs. Metzer brought it out. I’d have paid more than what the ring cost to see that expression on her face.

“Not as pretty as you, though.” I nudge her leg under the table.

“Not gonna lie, I love this suit.” She runs a hand over the fabric. It’s tweed, Mrs. Metzer explained. Large pink yarns woven with white and gray, and even real gold threads throughout. “It’s actually so comfortable. Luna is always saying how it’s like wearing a sweater, but I didn’t believe her.”

That is because the lining is made of silk and stitched to the tweed, also per Mrs. Metzer.

“What made you think of this?”

“You’re a girly girl, and this seems like a thing girly girls would like.”

Both her eyebrows climb up. “You think I’m a girly girl?”

I squeeze my chin between my thumb and index finger. “Is this a trick question?”

“No, but Luna’s the one in our friend group that’s known for being, well, extra girly. She loves clothes and makeup and doing her nails. Every time you see her, she looks gorgeous.”

“Sounds like you. Every time I see you, you’re looking like you walked out of a fashion magazine. Even when you’re tired from working, heads are turning when you enter a room.”

She opens her mouth to say something and then snaps it shut. With a shake of her head, she says, “I was going to argue but then thought, why? If that’s your impression of me, I’m happy.”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

The waiter appears with a plate piled with sandwiches. A couple of ladies next to us burst out in laughter. I wink at them and take the plate. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Gunner.” He leans in close and moves his hand to the side to reveal a marker. “Would you sign my apron?”

“Sure, but not until after we eat. I’m having dinner with my girl right now”—I nod toward Frankie—“and she deserves my attention. Know what I mean?”

Ryan nods fervently. “I do. Sorry. I’ll wait.” He backs away, almost genuflecting. There’s a certain kind of reverence fans have for me that makes me bashful. All I do is throw a pigskin on Sundays.

I feel a nudge against my foot and look up to see Frankie grinning at me. “You’re cute when you’re shy.”

“Cute?” I scoff in mock indignation. “I’m a burly quarterback.” I flex my arm.

Our neighbors clap.

Rueful, I lower my arm down and turn to Frankie for help.

“He doesn’t get out of the locker room much,” she says, leaning toward the older ladies.

“Sweetheart, who cares?” cackles one of the white hairs wearing a similar tweed suit, only hers is topped off by a choker of fat pearls. Need to get a set of those for Frankie. “If I were your age, I’d be locking him in a room and working him until we were both sweating.”

She waves a hand in front of her face while Frankie turns bright red.

“You heard her, Frankie. Time to lock me up.” I hold out my hands.

“And I’ll throw away the key,” she grouses.

“That’s the spirit,” encourages the older woman.

Frankie tosses her napkin on the table in frustration, and I roar with laughter. “I’m holding you to that promise later tonight,” I tell her.

“This is not Gilded Teapot appropriate conversation,” she replies primly, but there’s a light in her eyes that wasn’t there when I picked her up at her office.

Making this girl smile makes my chest swell like I’ve thrown a four-touchdown game.

I’ve got to lock her down or I’m not worth a penny of my new contract.