Page 2 of Tight End

Before I can tell him who I am or what exactly I’m doing at a football player meet and greet, he scoffs. “I know he’s newly single, but I don’t exactly think you’re his type. He’s looking for women with a little less ...” His hard eyes flick toOliver, who is now intently watching this exchange. “Baggage. You’re climbing up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

I bristle, holding Oliver a little tighter against me. Baggage? Sweetheart? He must have me mistaken for a sweet southern girl, and he’s about to get a rude awakening. “I’m not here toenticeMr. Brooks.”

“I know exactly what you’re here for, and you’re not getting through.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a lawyer.” Not entirely true, but I am here on a lawyer’s behalf, and that’s got to count for something. Although the look he’s giving me tells me it doesn’t.

“And you look it.” He sighs, glancing at his buddy, another security guard a few feet down. “Listen, lady, I have a job to do, and it’s to keep jersey chasers like you on the other side of this divider.”

“Jersey chasers?”

I’m not sure I know what a jersey chaser is, but I know I’m not one. My visit here is entirely professional. I’m here to deliver Mr. Brooks’s divorce papers because apparently he insisted on getting them today instead of waiting for tomorrow, or Friday, when literally anyone else could have done this. And should have.

I have no interest in slipping any of these guys my phone number, having them sign parts of my body, or whatever else happens at these events. Just like I have no interest in knowing who these players are, what position they play, or their favorite color.

My only regret is not knowing what Silas looked like when I pulled into the parking lot. Then maybe I could have avoided this entire lovely conversation with the security guard.

Shoot.

When my mom insisted I come straight here after picking Oliver up from day care to get these papers delivered, I thought it was a joke. I spent the entire drive here going over all the things I wish I’d said to her instead of taking the papers like the obedient daughter I am and letting her go to her partner meeting. She thinks because she got me the job at her firm andallowsme to work part-time, she gets to boss me around.

Well, during work hours she does. Technically she is my boss. And a managing partner. But once I walk out those doors, my time is mine.

Or at least it would be if I weren’t such a pushover.

If this football player was such an important client, she should be dropping the papers off herself. Most of the time, nothing important happens at these Wednesday night partner meetings.

“You don’t know who Silas Brooks is?” The petite blonde to my left gawks at me like I have grown a second head.

Yep. Definitely should have taken the time to look him up in the car.

Double shoot.

“I’m sorry, I’m not much of a sports fan. Do you think you could help?” I try to look as unassuming as possible, especially when her eyes narrow and she assesses me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m competition.

She hums to herself, flipping a lock of blond wavy hair over a shoulder. “He’s right. You definitely look like a lawyer, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. Silas is the one right there. Light-brown hair. The perfect amount of scruff. Blue-green eyes you can’t help but get lost in. He’s only the hottest man in Nashville.”

At her dreamy sigh I follow along her pointed finger and ... yep. Light-brown hair with some scruff along his chin. Not sure about losing myself in his eyes, though. They seem pretty average to me.

“Thanks.” I give her a small smile. “Good luck with ... good luck.”

She puts her hand up for a high five, looking at Oliver expectantly. It takes him a minute, likely debating on how friendly he’s going to be before he slaps her open palm and grins up at me.

“Good job, Oli.” With a quick kiss to the cheek, which he promptly wipes off with the back of his hand, I head to the center table and wait for Silas.

For the first time today luck is on my side—the crowd has thinned and we’re next. Thank God. I’m ready to not be here.

“Hey there.” Silas greets me with a wide smile, charm oozing from every one of his pores. He’s exactly the kind of guy I’d imagine a football player would be. An overconfident ladies’ man who probably doesn’t hear the wordnovery often. And those blue-green eyes I’m supposed to get lost in? They shift down my body before landing on Oliver. “Hi, little man. Are you a football fan?”

“Sorry.” I have a feeling my smile is more of a grimace, but it’s been a long day. And I think we all know I have no intention of sleeping with this man. His charm is wasted on me. “We’re not big sports people. Mrs. Morgan said it was imperative you get this paperwork.”

I didn’t think it possible, but his smile gets even bigger. Of course it’s perfect like the rest of him. Still doesn’t do anything for me, though. Pretty sure my vagina died a slow and painful death years ago.

“Everything is final?” He leans in closer, his voice lowering several decibels. “I’m finally a free man?”

“Yep. She said everything is finalized. Congratulations, Mr. Brooks.” I hand over the large manila envelope, and he clutches it for dear life. Did he ... did he just sniff it? Either his ex-wife was horrible or he really wants to be single. I’m pretty sure I can guess which one it is.

“You’ll have to thank Mrs. Morgan for all her hard work. Oh—” He quickly bends down and pops back up, thrusting a small signed football into Oliver’s hands. “Never too early to start watching the game.” And then he gives me a smirk, one I imagine melts panties off most women. “Never too late to start either. What did you say your name was?”

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