The Big Hit Page 7

  “Dixie and Daisy. What are your real names?” Nico asked.

  I felt the need to step in. “My name is actually Daisy, and this is Tatum. It’s nice to meet you. But we’re not really Woodsmen cheerleaders.”

  He looked at Tatum and she shrugged, pouting a little. “But you could have been, if you had learned to dance and tumble,” he pointed out. She pouted majorly. “What are you two doing here, then, if you’re not Dames? Did you sneak past security?”

  “No, we were allowed in,” I said. “Tatum’s dad is part of the ownership group of the team.”

  “We’re going to work out now,” Tatum said, and flexed. “See you, Nico.” She shrugged her coat back on.

  Nico’s grin got bigger. “Well, I declare,” he said to her, his accent even more exaggerated than hers had been. “That’s where I’m fixin’ to go myself.”

  “We’re going to the employees’ gym, though,” Tatum said, and started to edge the other way, and I was right behind her.

  “The employees’ gym is just an old exercise bike propped up with some magazines, or so I’ve heard,” Nico told her. “There’s hardly anyone at the players’ gym. It’s practically empty. Come with me, ladies.”

  We did—or Tatum did, and I trailed along behind, trying to think of the quickest way to get her to leave this building. She might have been fine going to where the players worked out, but I wasn’t. Nico led us down hallways deeper into the stadium, talking with Tatum a mile a minute. She stopped looking angry to have been caught in her lie and started looking pleased that this very handsome, very famous athlete was personally escorting her. She took her jacket back off, to give him a better view.

  “Why are people here in the off-season? Why are you here, Nico?” she asked. She now sounded kind of purr-y. “I thought you spent the winter in Vegas.”

  “You know that about me?” He got the big grin again. “A couple of us are back checking in with the team medical staff on our off-site rehab for some injuries. They want to see us for themselves.” He swung his leg back and forth, as if it was bothering him some. “A few guys live up here year-round, freezing their balls off until the thaw in June or however long it takes.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Are you a football fan, Daisy?”

  “I’m more of a swim fan,” I admitted. But I had been reading a lot online about the Woodsmen defense and more about football in general. I had even hunted down an ancient football strategy book during my time in the library basement, What-Ho, the Gridiron! That title was not supposed to be insulting to women, but was in fact some kind of old-time greeting, which did highlight the age of the book. It had been helpful in a way, although yes, a little outdated. The men in the pictures were wearing leather helmets.

  “Swimmers? I had a fun time in Madrid with one of those guys,” Nico said, and he named my brother’s biggest rival in the pool, Iván Marrero. “We stayed out until breakfast time.” Then he and Tatum talked about going out in Traverse City: where to go, who to go with. They hit it off all the way to the gym.

  He pulled open the door. “Here we are, ladies.” I could hear the clank of weights and someone swearing, and already knew I’d be out of place.

  Tatum turned to me, dark eyes sparkling. “I can smell the testosterone!” she whispered.

  It smelled like old sweat to me, but I followed her in. Against my better judgement, I followed her in.

  “What do you want to work on today?” Nico was asking her as I looked around.

  “Pecs,” she told him, arching her back. Of course, he looked directly at her breasts. I was pretty impressed, and yet also horrified, by her flirting techniques.

  “What about you, Daisy?”

  “Oh, calves,” I said, trying to pick muscles that were as far away as possible from any of my personal zones. Nico now directed his eyes slightly above my tennis shoes, which was perfect.

  The room was full of huge exercise machines which I knew I would never want to touch, bands and balls and rollers, massive weights, and more giant men. Two more, but still not the one I was wanting to see, and after a glance in our direction, these guys just ignored us. Tatum coaxed Nico into lifting so she could ooh and ahh over his muscles. I did have to admit they were quite impressive. I wandered away to hide in the corner and let Tatum do her thing.

  There was a huge clunk as weights went down hard onto the rubber floor, and then I heard my name. “Daisy?” Knox rose up from behind a machine. Now, here was the player I’d been looking for.

  Chapter 5

  “Knox. Hi,” I answered. My eyes swept over the stretchy black, sleeveless shirt he had worn for his workout. “Oh, wow,” I said, the words escaping before I could prevent them. Every inch of him was hard and cut, defined. Well, maybe not every inch was hard. My eyes went to the front of his shorts, to his…oh, wow. I shouldn’t have looked there. I was spending too much time with Tatum and reading the messages from the yoga girls.

  “What are you doing here, Daisy?” He sounded shocked, as shocked as his rumbling voice could sound, and I tried to explain quickly so that he wouldn’t be weirded out.

  “I—”

  “Enchantée. I’m Fleur Le Pew,” Tatum said, hopping a weight bench to get over to us.

  “Knox, this is my friend, Tatum Smith. Her dad is one of the Woodsmen owners. Please, Tatum, no French accent,” I begged.

  “They’re here with me,” Nico said. He nodded coolly at Knox. “Lynch.”

  “Williams,” Knox responded. There didn’t seem to be a lot of love lost between them, from how they were greeting each other.

  “I caught them sneaking around the stadium, Daisy and Miss Dixie Belle here,” Nico told him. “They’re not going to get in your way.” He cocked his head to Tatum and walked across the open gym floor and she eagerly scampered after him.

  “We’re not here with Nico. He didn’t catch us,” I tried to explain. “Her name really is Tatum. She wanted to come to the gym at the stadium and she told me it was fine. I didn’t understand we’d be around the players. I didn’t know I’d run into you.” But I had wanted to see him, I had to admit it, and I felt myself blush. Curse you, Scandinavian ancestors and your legacy of pale skin! I was sure that Knox read guilt, not embarrassment, in my flushed cheeks.

  He looked very marble slab right now, the lack of expression that I found scary. At that moment, I realized why I found it so disturbing when his face looked like that. Without thinking, I stretched out my hand to him, kind of patting the air, soothing. “I’m going to leave. Ok? It was nice to see you.” Which sounded very strange, but I had been glad to see him, for a brief moment before I realized that he thought I was crazy and following him around. I bolted out of the gym and down the hall in the direction I thought we had come from, not bothering to break up the love-fest between Tatum and Nico to say I was leaving.

  Except I hadn’t been paying much attention to where Nico had been leading us through the hallways. I twisted and turned for a while, getting more and more discombobulated the farther I walked. I also thought more and more about Knox and I got more and more upset, crying a little, and increasingly anxious. Finally, I went around yet another corner and spotted a security guard. “Oh, wonderful!” I said, and I meant it. I was so relieved to find someone, anyone else in this huge maze of a building. “I’m not sure where I am. Can you please point me to the exit?”

  The security guard gave me a look. Then he took my arm with one hand and talked into his radio with the other. “This is Lyle, I’ve got a trespasser in the North Endzone outside of the first-floor offices. I’ll escort her out.”

  “I’m not a trespasser,” I told him. “I came here with Tatum Smith. Her dad—”

  “Let’s go,” he told me, and he marched me right out through the door to the parking lot that I had been looking for, with me trying to explain.

  Tatum was already outside. “There you are! Where did you go? Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She peered at me. “Are you crying?”

  Yes. �
��I just got thrown out of the stadium and Knox…” I petered out, and wiped my eyes on my sweatshirt sleeve. I wasn’t crying too much, but yes, I was upset.

  Tatum threw her arms around me. “Daisy! I’m sorry!” She was so much shorter that she spoke directly into my breast, and it felt a little strange. “I didn’t know where you had disappeared to and Nico and I were looking all over for you.”

  I patted her head. “It’s ok. I wanted to go, but I should have told you. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she admonished my nipple, then picked up her head. “What did that weird guy say to you to make you run out?”

  “Knox? Nothing, really.” That was the problem. “I’ve met him before, and he thought I came to the stadium today to see him.”

  Tatum narrowed her eyes. “Did you?”

  “I didn’t know we were coming here! But then, yes, ok? Yes, I wouldn’t have minded seeing him.”

  Her eyes narrowed more, until I thought she probably couldn’t see. “Hmm. Very interesting.” She patted my cheek. “Are you better?”

  “Yes. I’m being silly. I shouldn’t care if Knox Lynch thinks I’m after him.” I did, of course. “And people probably get thrown out of this stadium every day, I shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

  “Of course not! Lyle’s super nice about it,” she said, smiling up at me.

  “What? You know the security guard? How many times have you been thrown—”

  “I have good news!” she told me, still smiling. “Guess who’s going out tonight?”

  “From the way you and Nico were getting along, my guess is the two of you. That’s great, Tatum.”

  “You’re almost right. But it’s me, Nico, and you! And he’s bringing a friend, a Woodsmen guy. Aren’t you excited?”

  I was…I wasn’t sure. “You and Nico are setting me up?”

  The Authorized Personnel Only door to the stadium opened, and the security guard stuck out his head. “Ladies, how far off the premises do I have to remove you? Tatum, go home.”

  “Jeez, Lyle!” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Daisy. I’ll tell you in the car.” She shrugged when she saw me looking at her. “I’ve met Lyle once or twice. What did you think about Nico? He’s even cuter in person, right?”

  Several hours later, Tatum was leaning forward to scrutinize my face, a fat makeup brush in her hand. “A little more blush. You’re so pale. And strangely blotchy,” she noted, pointing to my chest.

  “That’s what happens when I get nervous.” I covered the red spots under my collarbones with my hand. “I’m really, really not sure about this.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s going to be great.” The soft, black bristles tickled over my face. “You look hot. We’re going out with two Woodsmen who think that you and I met when we were pole dancers in Detroit. It’s perfect.”

  I couldn’t speak, then found my voice. “Pole dancers?”

  “I’m not sure Nico believed me about that, but maybe the other guy will,” she continued encouragingly.

  I leaned away from the makeup brush. “That’s enough. I don’t want to go.”

  “Tell me why.”

  First of all, I was already interested in someone, and not the person I would be meeting tonight. But I didn’t want to talk about him with Tatum. “Are you kidding me?” I said instead. “It’s a blind date, and with someone famous. Who thinks I’m a stripper! Those are reasons enough.”

  “I never said ‘stripper!’ Not exactly. Anyway, I’ll be there, too, and it will be awesome.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the pole dancing go. “It’s not just that. I’ve never been out with anyone before,” I admitted.

  Tatum put down the makeup brush. “Really? It’s your first date, in your whole life?” she asked incredulously.

  I nodded, totally embarrassed. “I never went out with anyone in high school, and then it was my mom and I, alone, and then,” I sighed, and stopped. “I guess I didn’t know how to start.” So I was the oldest person left in the world who had never been kissed, never even held hands. Sex? It was as far away as Mars, as likely as the guy tonight turning into a wolf.

  “That’s ok. You’re starting now!” she told me. “You look so beautiful that this guy is going to puke.”

  I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and hoped that making a guy puke was a good thing.

  “And if he’s lame,” Tatum continued, “we’ll leave, and we’ll find you someone else.”

  “You’d leave Nico?” She’d been talking my ear off about how great he was, and also about how much she was interested in sleeping with him. Graphic details about that. “Really?” I asked skeptically.

  “Of course, I would.” She sounded hurt. “I wouldn’t be much of a friend to you if I didn’t. Girls have to have each other’s backs. And speaking of, could you keep this to yourself, about this night out with the Woodsmen guys? Don’t tell the other yoga girls.”

  “Tatum, I’m not really a yoga girl, remember? I don’t actually know any of them.”

  She stood up. “It’s for the best. They’re kind of bitchy, right? You know, you should always wear that lipstick, even when you sleep. It’s perfect on you.” She fluffed my hair a little. “If we could bottle this color blonde, we’d be millionaires. And green eyes? Daisy, you are a lucky girl.”

  Buoyed by her compliments, I set off on my first date.

  And it was fine, I guessed. We went to a beautiful restaurant on Lake Michigan where I had gone before with my brother and his wife, and the food was delicious and the view was gorgeous with the quiet waves under the starry sky. Tatum and Nico hit it off just like they had at the stadium, talking and laughing together and loving the evening. She sparkled with happiness.

  My date, Bryce, was not an actual Woodsmen. He was a local guy, an assistant strength and conditioning coach who had played football at Eastern Michigan and then come home and been lucky enough to get a spot on the Woodsmen staff. And it turned out that he was younger than I was, which seemed to make him extremely uncomfortable. Sitting at the table with Nico was also making him uncomfortable—they were clearly only acquaintances and not friends, and I got the distinct impression that he was only there because Nico hadn’t been able to find anyone else to be his wingman on such short notice, with most of the team out of state at their off-season homes.

  “So, the two of you are, uh, exotic dancers?” Bryce asked me. His eyes went to my breasts, elevated in a bra that Tatum had insisted on and more visible than I liked in a top that had also been her strong recommendation.

  “That’s what Miss Dixie Belle told me,” Nico confirmed. He looked at Tatum, barely holding in the laughter, and she took a gulp of her wine and ignored him.

  “No, I’m actually a student, and a library assistant, and an intern for an art conservator and historian,” I clarified. “I’ve never been a dancer of any kind.”

  “Can you imagine?” Tatum said. “She’s a conservator! Strong stomach.” She nodded, impressed.

  “Of art, Tatum,” I explained again. “Not bodies. That’s something different.” My phone vibrated in my purse next to my hip, probably the yoga girls checking in with each other on how far they had already gone with various men that evening. Bryce was checking his own phone, not paying attention to the conversation anymore. He and I didn’t seem to have much in common, besides the fact that we had discovered that we were born in the same hospital, a few years apart.

  “Where should we go next?” Tatum asked the table.

  “Let’s go to Roy’s,” my date said, flipping over his phone and tossing back the rest of his glass of wine.

  “I don’t know that place,” Nico told him.

  “Me neither,” Tatum said. “Do you, Daisy? You have more life experience, being older.”

  “Thank you,” I told her. “Roy’s is a bar in the town near where I live. It’s kind of locals only. And you can’t ask for any kind of foreign beer,” I explained. There was a real Roy, too, but
I had only seen him at the grocery store. I’d never been in that bar in my life.

  “Are there bikers there?” Tatum asked me, her face lit with excitement.

  Nico signed the credit card slip with a flourish. It had to have been a pricey meal because there had been a lot of bottles of wine split among the three of them, but I had nursed just the one glass, worried about drinking when I was already on the edge. “Let’s try Roy’s,” he said easily. “Come on, Dixie, you’ll ride with me. Bryce, go with Daisy.”

  We walked out to our cars and I saw Nico swing his arm around Tatum. She’d been speculating a lot about his personal area, the one under his pants, and maybe her many questions would soon be answered. On the other hand, Bryce and I were practically walking on opposite sides of the parking lot. We then had a very quiet ride over to Roy’s, with him messing with his phone and me very worried. This would not be the same as going into Ginger’s Tavern on a Monday night with the after-work crowd. Roy’s on a Saturday would be a definite scene, and my brother would have killed me if he knew I was going there. But I was an older woman, as Bryce could have pointed out, and I didn’t have to answer to anyone. I could hold it together and go to a bar with friends, probably. Maybe.

  Bryce made a few remarks on the way over, and I tried to respond in an interesting, witty way, but he was clearly not interested in conversation with me, or interested in me at all. It was a huge relief when I saw the neon sign announcing “Roys” (no apostrophe needed) so I could escape the tense, uncomfortable silence of my car. The bar was just down the street from where my brother and I had gone to the library as kids, spending long days keeping away from our house, and it was across from the grocery store where I still got my milk from Martha and she asked me how Dylan and Julia were doing. I was on home turf and I could go to Roy’s without any problem, I assured myself. I could do it.

  The noise of the music pounding inside reverberated in the dirt parking lot where Nico and Tatum were already waiting for us. “He put his hand on my leg,” Tatum whispered as she propelled me toward the bar entrance. “Isn’t he funny? Isn’t he nice?”