Page 48 of Who’s Playing You (In The Nick of Time #1)

SCOTTIE ANDERSON

H is confession and dropping the L-word on me clearly wasn’t something I expected because I let out a gasp before his little joke.

“You don’t need to say it back,” he quickly tacked on.

“And I know it’s all very fast. But… when you know, you just know.

And I know. But you take your time… I’ll be here, ready, when you are. ”

I felt crazy. I felt certifiably insane when the words slipped from between my lips, “I think I love you too…”

I’d barely finished saying the last word when Nicholas scooped me up into his embrace and hugged me like it meant forever.

Knowing him, it just might.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, honey!” He beamed down at me before kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose, my eyelids and then capturing my lips.

Once we broke apart, the reality of the situation came in waves and I felt like I was spiraling.

I had planned on coming to his game tomorrow, but now I’d be facing his parents not only as his girlfriend but also as their daughter’s best friend.

He’d also told me I’d be meeting one of his best friends, as in one of his childhood best friends - as in, one of the most important people in his life.

The stakes had gotten so much higher and I was not so low-key starting to freak the fuck out.

“Aww, honey, come here,” he said as he gently laughed. “You’re overthinking all of this. It’s all going to be so amazing. You just wait and see. Stop stressing, sweetheart. Go back to how you were feeling when you told me you loved me back. Let’s just stay right there.”

I laughed. “You mean where I threw caution to the wind and felt absolutely crazy?”

His dimples popped, “Yeah, crazy about me!”

“Oh my gawd, you’re so cocky,” I said and laughed right back.

“Well…” he drawled.

“Oh great, what now?”

“My nickname is The Diva, so cockiness kind of comes with the territory,” and his dimples were still on full display. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to slap them or lick them.

“Ugh, does this mean I have to learn the how’s and why’s and all of the various things about football?”

He just laughed and said, “As long as you’re cheering for me while wearing my jersey, I don’t care how much or little you know, baby. You’ll know the most important thing and that is that you love the best player on the field.”

I just mumbled, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Nicholas had had to go to the stadium early this morning ahead of the game to do whatever he and the team need to do to prep for their game.

He’d hired a car service to come pick me up and bring me to The Rage stadium, where I was met by a very nice gentleman by the name of Bob.

Bob was an older gentleman who gave Santa vibes with his full beard and round belly.

Turns out, Bob was the head of security and he totally fit the Santa vibe because he was so kind and sweet.

He handed me a lanyard with my name and VIP status printed right up front and center on it.

“Right this way, miss. Nick wanted me to bring you here and then he asked me to tell you he’d be by to get you as soon as he could.

So get comfortable. Grab a drink and snack, and he’ll be right quick - or so he said,” Bob chuckled.

I had thanked him after he brought me to a VIP suite. There were some other people mingling and mulling about, but I kept to myself and just looked over the stadium. All I could say was, “Wow!” It was massive and so impressive.

“She’s a beaut, ain't she,” I hadn’t noticed the older gentleman who’d saddled up next to me by the glass to look at the stadium that was rapidly filling up with fans. “She’s relatively new, still got that new stadium smell and all,” he said as he laughed with his entire body.

I looked at him and took him in, he was tall and quite thick around the middle. His hair was silver and his mustache was a matching silver.

“It’s really quite impressive,” I replied honestly.

“Don’t tell me this here is your first time, darlin’?” he questioned.

“Alright, I won’t tell you that then.” I joked back.

He laughed with his whole body again. “I like you. Got yerself a good sense of humor there. So tell me, which one belongs to you then?” he asked as we both looked down to the field where it appeared both teams were out there and warming up.

“Belongs to me?” I questioned, not quite understanding.

“You’re new here, so I’m assumin’ that you’re most likely a family member to one of my new guys. But you kinda got that there look about ya, whada the kids call it these days? WAGs, right? You look like you could foot that bill,” he said as he laughed good naturedly.

“WAGs? Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before,” I said while I began feeling like maybe I should’ve asked Nicholas some more football questions last night instead of letting him have his way with me on every piece of new furniture that we got delivered yesterday.

“Wives and girlfriends, darlin’. You one of ‘em? And if so, which one of those lucky fellers down there belongs to ya?”

I couldn’t help but laugh with him now. “Oh. Well, yeah I suppose I do qualify then,” I said feeling bashful all of a sudden.

This would be the first time I’d refer to Nicholas as mine in public and the thought of it had chills running through my body.

“Um, Nicholas?” It came out more like a question rather than a statement.

“Nicholas? Well that’s not too much help there, darlin’. Which one? We got a few of ‘em down there,” he said.

“Soba,” I elaborated.

His head whipped over to me and his eyebrows were up in his hairline.

“Soba? As in the quarterback ? Well hot diggity, darlin’, you sure did snag yerself the prize pony, didn’tcha now?

That’s at least how I look at the kid, that I snagged the prize pony from the draft that is,” he said and now I was more confused.

“Aw hell, darlin’, you look confused. And I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Atticus Banks,” he said in his southern drawl. “I own The Rage.”

“Ohh,” I replied, full understanding hitting me. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Banks.”

“Ah, darlin’, none of that Mr. Banks stuff, that was my daddy. We’re old friends by now, you and me. Atticus’ll do just fine,” he said as he gripped my hand with both of his after I went to shake his hand. “What about you, is it Mrs. Soba or?”

I let out a little forced laugh, “Oh, ah, no. My name’s Scottie… Anderson,” I finished.

He didn’t let go of my hand just then but looked at me more closely, “Say,” he began. “Scottie Anderson, you say?”

“Yesss?”

“You wouldn’t happen to be that there painter, would ya?” his question took me by surprise.

“Oh, why yes. I am a painter. I also teach at Stetson U up in New Hope. But I’m not sure I’m necessarily who you’re thinking… unless you’re in the arts department at Stetson.”

“Now hang on a minute, darlin’. It’s not every day you meet a painter by the name of Scottie Anderson. And I don’t believe in coincidences. So let’s straighten this up right quick. Is one of your paintings called Sunset’s Breath ?”

I felt my face flush. That had been one of my favorite paintings that I’d done some years ago and was one of the first pieces that the gallery had sold for me.

“Yes, that’s one of mine,” I admitted.

“No shit! Darlin’, you gotta let me introduce you to my wife!

” he exclaimed at me, getting really excited.

“You are her favorite artist! My wife, you see, she’s an art collector - connoisseur if you will so indulge the little missus - and she discovered your work a year or two back, and phewwy!

She’s put me and every other art dealer on the hunt ever since! ”

“Oh my goodness. I’m flattered - th-thank you,” I said.

“I’m not lettin’ ya outta my sight until my Trina gets here. When I tell you she’s a fan, I mean, she’s a fan ! I think she’s been able to snatch up about six of yer pieces and she tells me it ain’t enough,” he said and began laughing.

“I’d be so happy to meet Trina, and I’m sure I can get her in touch with the gallery that represents me,” I shared with him.

“Ahh, she’s already had me talkin’ to ‘em. She called ‘em too but they told her they didn’t have any pieces at the moment, and that there was someone who’d get priority to scoop ‘em on up if they got any new work. So then tell me darlin’, what do I gotta do to get my Trina on that list of yers?”

I just laughed at his earnestness and the level of praise that flooded me had me feeling ten feet tall. “Don’t worry, Atticus, I’ll make sure Trina has her pick.”

He hooped and hollered, garnering the attention of all of those in the suite with us.

“Scottie, you just became my new best friend. Now, tell me, is our boy down there ready for this?” he asked as he gestured to the field below, where when I followed his line of sight, I could see Nicholas throwing the football around.

“He seems to be pretty confident,” I shared, but kind of felt like I was talking out my ass. “Although, to be honest with you, he doesn’t talk too much about his work when he gets home. He’s pretty humble in that regard.”

“ Humble ?!” Atticus jumped back and raised his voice an octave when he said it. “Are we talkin’ ‘bout the same guy? That one - right there - jersey on with the number one on the back? Soba?”

I laughed and replied, “That’d be the one.”

“Humble? Well, I’ll be,” he drifted off. “Darlin’, you do realize that your beau down there’s got himself a reputation right?”

Hearing that, I couldn’t help it when my mind jumped to a reputation of him dating and or sleeping around.

“He’s known as The Diva in the football world.

You don’t get yerself a nickname like that, darlin’, without reason.

I’m surprised his ego fits in the stadium, if I’m being honest witcha.

” He then stopped, looked at me and then continued in a softer tone, “But… since he got here to New York, to be totally honest witcha, he’s not the guy we were expectin’.

And I’m sayin’ that in a good way. We thought maybe he was just getting adjusted, or maybe his reputation was blown out of proportion - we weren’t sure.

But he’s been, well, he’s been an asset to this organization so far - far beyond what we ever thought we could expect.

I’m just hopin’ that he’s the player that we’ve been-a-waitin’ for to help turn this franchise around. ”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Nicholas Soba it’s that he’s very thorough and determined. And he usually a always gets his way. So Atticus, I believe that if he wants something bad enough that he will in fact deliver it.”

“From yer lips to God’s ears, my dear,” he replied.

“Scottie? Scottie sweetheart, is that you?” a voice came from the side of us. As I turned, I came face-to-face with none other than Mrs. Soba.