Page 18 of The Wrong Game

“Is this your first year as pass holders?”

I nodded. “It is, indeed. I’ve been to a lot of games before, though. Just never had the season passes.”

“Well, welcome. And you picked a great section. We haven’t changed seats since 2002, after we upgraded to these. We actually have two extra seats,” she continued, pointing behind us about ten rows up and to the right. “Those right there. We sold them for this game, but sometimes we invite friends.”

“We’ve been trying to get your seats for years,” Roy added, still scowling, though not at us.

“Roy!”

He shrugged. “What? It’s true. Wish we could have snagged them up before you, but hey, I’ll take what I can get at this point.” He looked at us then. “They were taken by the worst people the past few years. At least it’s not them sitting next to us this season.”

Janet laughed at that, brows raised like he had a point. “He’s not wrong. Two guys who painted themselves every game. The one who always sat next to me smelled like old deli meat forgotten in the fridge for months.”

“Well, I promise, we don’t smell. Well, at least,Idon’t,” Zach said. Then, he leaned over, sniffing my neck. “Might have to watch out for her.”

I smacked his arm.

“You two are adorable. Newlyweds?” Janet asked, searching our hands for rings.

“Oh, no,” I answered quickly, shaking my head. “We’re just friends.”

Janet eyed me curiously, and when she looked behind me at Zach, she laughed. By the time I turned toward him, he was just holding his hands up innocently.

“Ah, well, we look forward to sharing the season with you,” she said, winking at Zach before we all turned back to the field for the next play.

I glared at that too-handsome-for-his-own-good bartender next to me, suspicion creeping in. “What did you do behind my back?”

“Nothing,” he said, holding up his hands again. “I swear.”

“Uh-huh.”

He just grinned, and I smirked back. For the longest second, his eyes held mine, and warmth crept up my neck at the way he looked at me. It was as if those eyes knew me, like we were playing a game and he was three moves ahead.

I wanted to know more about him.

I wanted to know everything.

But the ball was snapped, and we both ripped our attention back to the field.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered, watching the clock as our quarterback looked for an opening. But he couldn’t find anyone, and we all watched with a cringe as he was sacked to the ground.

“Shit,” Zach murmured.

There was no time to spare, and with no additional timeouts, all our guys could do was get back on the line. This time, our quarterback handed it off to our most agile running back, and he found a gap in the line, sprinting through it.

“Yes!” I threw my hands up, watching his speedy legs work him across the field. “Go, go, go, go!”

He made it all the way to our thirty-yard-line, securing the first down, and the entire stadium erupted in cheers.

Zach smacked my ass in celebration, and my mouth popped open. He was still carrying on and celebrating as I gaped at him, hand rubbing the spot that he’d slapped. When he looked at me again, he smiled and shrugged.

“What?” he asked. “That’s how we celebrate in football.”

“Oh, is it now?”

He nodded. “It is. But hey, I’m all about being fair.” He turned, offering his ass to me. “Your turn.”

I laughed, crossing my arms and shaking my head. “I mean, I don’t know if I’d classify this as fair. Sounds more like a win-win for you.”