Page 28

28

BLAKELY

“Are you sure I’m allowed to be at the stadium with you?” I ask, hovering at the entrance, Jamie at my side.

“You’ve got a VIP pass around your neck and one of the best players in the CFL on your arm. Yeah, I’m sure,” he drawls confidently, hooking a finger beneath the black lanyard around my neck and stroking my collarbone.

“What am I even supposed to do while you’re at practice? Snoop? I don’t know if Graham would appreciate that very much.”

He releases my lanyard and opens the door for me. I sneak a look at the two reporters chatting by the entrance to the parking lot, and he follows my eyes, spotting them. They notice our staring and turn our way.

We’ve gotten pretty lucky so far this week with not having any pre-scheduled outings, but it’s only a matter of time before that changes. My guess is that’s what I’m supposed to be doing here today. Why else would Jamie be so dead set on me joining him while he’s at practice other than to parade me around?

Well, or to try and make me lose my goddamn mind by forcing me to watch him run around and get all sweaty again .

“You have such little faith in me, Bandit. I’ve got plans for you. Just be patient, hmm?” he purrs.

“You should know by now that I’m not patient.”

The flash of desire in his bright eyes is as much of a reminder of our wedding night as I can handle.

“Oh, I know. I remember that quite well.”

When I take a step past him, he’s dropping his hand and ghosting the back of it across my ass.

I whip my head to stare at him, and he grins before leaning down to steal a kiss for the reporters right here in the doorway. It’s the first one since our wedding, and I’m just as sucked into it this time as I was then.

His lips are so soft and patient despite the sharp hunger that passes between us. Without pushing, he encourages my lips to part and guides us backward. His tongue glides along my bottom lip at the same time my back hits the door.

It’s so easy to tune out the world with Jamie. His energy is captivating, and with the bleeding heart in his chest, it’s impossible not to carve a special place in your soul just for him.

I’ve never experienced such a draw to someone before. Such an overwhelming desire to simply give in and let him take care of me. My heart screams that I wouldn’t regret it, but my mind and plain old-fashioned inability to give my heart to someone are always quick to slap me with reality.

Still, I can’t physically pull myself away from him, and he’s too aware of that. He knows the moment he touches me, I’m putty in his arms, yet he hasn’t once used that to take advantage.

Jamie Bateman is a good man.

The reminder melts me until I’m clinging onto his arms and brushing my chest against the strong expanse of his. His ability to affect me so intensely should be studied. But the question is, if I was offered a cure, would I even take it?

The answer is glaringly obvious when I curl my fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him closer, intensifying the kiss all on my own .

His answering groan shoots right between my legs to where I’m wet and aching. I trap a noise of my own and gently dig my teeth into his bottom lip, trying like hell to gain some sort of power back here.

Before I can gain even an inch of it, we’re being interrupted by a low clearing of a throat. I’m only half in my head because instead of jumping back, I relax in the arms that automatically find a place around my waist.

“Would you mind answering a few questions before practice, Jamie?”

Jamie’s arms tighten around me, the air around us sharpening with his annoyance. I lean back to stare up at him when I register his emotions, so unused to seeing him bluntly showing this one.

The tick in his tight jaw is obvious without a beard to hide it. With his swollen lips parted and downturned, it’s like he’s making a conscious effort not to snap at whoever his guy is.

Slowly, he shelves his frustration and warms his expression. I notice every single twitch of his brow and feature that’s been lifted a bit too high or pulled too tight that gives away his facade.

Meeting the antsy gaze of the singular reporter, he tips his chin. “Yeah, Bobby. What do you have for me?”

We move out of the doorway, letting the door shut with a gust of air against our backs. I interlock our fingers, and he immediately starts twirling my rings.

Ready with his recorder in his hand, the Bobby guy grins at Jamie and spares me half a glance. “I hear congratulations are in order for you two.”

“Yeah, man. Blakely did us all a favour and married me before I got caught making a fool of myself begging her to agree. I’ve never been happier,” Jamie declares, continuing to twirl my ring.

“I’m sure many people are happy to hear that. The better you play out there, the better it is for all the Pythons fans. Which, speaking of the fans, should they be nervous that you might not be completely focused on the game now that you’re so freshly married? I assume you’ve been very busy as newlyweds.”

I bristle, and Jamie’s palm grows cold in my hold. His grin has a serrated edge, but he keeps it classy while I’m struggling to keep my tongue between my teeth.

“I’d say that it’s actually the opposite. Blakely loves the game nearly as much as I do. Her passion is one of the first things that drew me to her when we met. For guys in this sort of career, it’s almost second nature to write off ordinary fans of the sport as potential romantic partners out of fear of something unauthentic, but that’s not the case at all. At least it wasn’t for me. My wife is the first to lay it out straight for me when it comes to both my gameplay and any stupid thing I do or say off the field. To be honest, I think players should be less hesitant to make a move on the beautiful woman they notice in the stands during a game.” He drops his chin and catches my waiting gaze. “You never know if she could be the one, and you’re risking losing your one chance to have her.”

My belly flutters, the reporter disappearing. A dimple in Jamie’s cheek pops as he tips the corner of his mouth up high. Somehow, when he’s smiling like that, he becomes even better-looking than normal.

“What do you think, Blakely? As far as I know, you haven’t spoken much to the media. Is there a reason for that?” Bobby asks.

It annoys me that I have to look away from Jamie. What the fuck is that about? I seriously need to get a grip.

“I haven’t felt the need to. I’m not here to prove myself to anyone,” I say.

“You don’t think so? What about to those who think you’ve chosen a great moment to hook yourself to a player whose value has skyrocketed over the past season?”

Due to my lack of time on social media, I actually didn’t know that was being said about me. It doesn’t surprise me, but I would think that Jamie would have told me that by now. Or Sadie, at least. Maybe they don’t think it’s a concern.

“Jamie could be worth nothing in this league and I would still be here beside him. So, I don’t really care what anyone is saying. And I think it’s pretty damaging and discouraging to other women out there to spew a narrative like that. Just because a woman likes football, or any sport for that matter, doesn’t mean that she should be pushed aside because she’s believed to be a gold digger or a fake,” I rant, skin prickling with words I’m not allowing myself to say.

Jamie blows out a low whistle, flashing heart eyes at me in a way that makes my cheeks throb with a blush. “You see now, Bobby? How on earth was I supposed to let her turn me down?”

The reporter does seem a bit surprised that I was so blunt, but he’s quick to recover. “Thank you, Blakely. Now, Jamie, the Pythons haven’t been on a four-game winning streak in the past three seasons. With that special win on the horizon, is the team nervous? And if so, how are you handling that?”

“You know, Bobby, I actually don’t have time for any more questions, but I look forward to seeing the ones we’ve answered today online soon. Especially Blakely’s answers. We’ll see you after the game Saturday. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to bring my wife upstairs and then head to practice,” Jamie says, his words suave but threaded with annoyance.

Without another look at Bobby, Jamie drops an arm over my shoulders and pulls the door open with another. We step inside together, and then he’s grabbing my hand again, threading our fingers.

“You could have been a gold digger, you know? I still would have had you as my wife,” he says once we’ve taken a left down the same hall I remember from my sideline-view game.

We pass the door he came out of after his interviews and show no sign of stopping.

“You would have willingly married someone who was planning on draining you dry? ”

“Well, you would have only been able to drain me while we were married with all the legal crap we had to sign, but yeah. If it meant still getting to marry you, it would have been worth it.”

Those stupid flutters are back. “You say that now. Maybe not after I had run off with your credit card and bought myself a fancy car.”

“First off, you wouldn’t have bought a car, of all things, considering you can’t drive. And secondly, even if you had, I would have approved the purchase,” he says, swiftly swatting another of my arguments away.

His pace slows, and with only one door left in the hallway, I follow suit.

With a roll of my eyes, I’m dropping his hand and gripping my hips. “Okay, since you know everything about me, what would I have bought?”

“New football gear for Nate. His is pretty old, right? I’ve seen you scowling at it in the laundry room a few times.”

“It hardly fits,” I mutter, embarrassed to have been caught so easily in the trap I set myself.

He’s right. If given any large sum of money, I’d buy Nathan top-of-the-line gear that would last the rest of his high school football career.

Jamie leans a shoulder against the orange brick wall. “He hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

“And he won’t. He’ll come home one day with his savings drained and arms full of gear, and that’ll be it.”

“I wonder where he got that stubbornness from.”

I huff a laugh. “What’s behind that door?”

“Oh, this one?” he asks, knocking his knuckles against the silver door handle. “Only a place I think you’ll really like.”

Intrigued, I lurch forward a step. “Let’s go in.”

With a push of his wrist, he has the door open. It looks like a lounge of some sort. Jamie snakes my hand again and leads us inside.

Three round tables are scattered along the wall of windows, while a long one has been filled with empty serving containers. There are plates, silverware, sauce containers, drink pitchers—everything needed to feed a large group of people.

“Is this where you eat when you’re at practice?” I ask, inspecting the variety of food options being offered.

“While I do prefer your food, yes. This is where we eat when we’re at the stadium. Some of the players don’t bother, but majority of us are always hungry, as you’ve learned.”

I turn to face him. “Are you hungry right now? Is that why we’re here?”

“No. We’re here because there’s an opening on the catering team, and I put your name in the ring.”