Page 47 of Faking the Face Off

“Is that why you like jazz?” she asks as she takes a bite of her food.

“I introduced the group to jazz, thank you,” I say with a laugh and a touch of irony. “Funny enough, my dad is the person who introduced me to jazz.”

“Oh.” She chews and watches me. “You know, my dad has a record player. I busted it out of the closet the other night.”

“You did?”

She nods. “He’s got some old records, but not jazz. I’m going to have to go shopping for some tunes.”

“I can help you if you’d like? Maybe when I’m back from this next away stint, we can make a date to go to the record shop down on the riverwalk.”

“I’d like that.”

Something in Anna’s voice makes me pause with my fork almost to my mouth. I let my eyes meet hers and I set my fork down. There is something in this moment that is so sweet and special, the way her eyes are sparkling from the candlelight, the music playing in the background, the chatter of people talking around us.

And then, there’s Dixon. Dixon who’s standing at the bar with another person at this very moment, waving at us.

“Well, well, well.” Dixon grins as he catches my eye and threads his way through the tables over to where we sit. I stare at my plate. “I saw the two of you over here and had to come say hi.”

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” Travis Richards says, hot on Dixon’s heels. Travis is a well-known agent not only in the league, but also around the Renegades locker room seeing as he’s the man who reps a few of the guys on the team. “Goodto see you, Ollie. Was hoping to catch up with you while I’m in town.” His eyes land on Anna. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Yes we did,” Dixon says as he pulls out a chair and helps himself to it. He pats the one next to him and looks at me pleadingly. “We can stay for a drink?”

“Are you asking or wanting an invite?” Anna retorts with gorgeous sarcasm, making both men crack up. She holds up a finger. “One drink, Dixon, that’s all you get. You only need one anyway because we’re in game season.”

“I like her,” Travis says sitting in the chair next to her. “I’ve seen you before at the arena. I’m Travis.”

She shakes his hand. “Anna Denault.”

“You’re Ben’s assistant?” Travis’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he looks my way. “You’re dating the coach’s assistant?”

Before I can answer, Dixon intercepts. “Oh, he’s doing something alright,” he says, segueing into another topic. “Like trying to stay relevant.”

I kick him under the table and hide my delight when he jumps. As Dixon scowls, I blow him a kiss.

“And you?” Travis asks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Assistant to the great Ben Masters. Do you like it?”

“That seems to come up a lot lately,” Anna notes. “There’s never a dull moment. I like that I get to help be a part of something bigger than me without feeling dwarfed by it all, and I’m taking care of someone who can’t take care of themself in some way. The little bit I do helps them be greater.”

“Wow.” Travis nods with approval. “You’re the perfect assistant.”

“I try.” She shrugs. She takes the last bite of her appetizer and points at Travis. “How about you? Do you like being an agent?”

“I love it,” he says, leaning in and putting his elbows on the table. “You mention helping people and that’s why I got into it. I know some guys who play football and they basically needed protection from the big world of sports. There’s a lot more to it than meets the eyes, and these guys,” he says, pointing to both myself and Dixon, “need someone to help steer them and keep them in a straight line while they do what they do best. So, short answer is I love what I do and wouldn’t change it for another job ever.”

With each word, Anna’s eyes sparkle more, grow a little wider. It’s as if he’s teaching her a masterclass and she’s hanging on every word. If I wasn’t so sure of what I’m creating with her, I would probably feel a little jealous, but I know her well enough to know that while she is intellectually being turned on right now, and in front of me, it’s because there’s a penny dropping for her with something he’s saying.

“You make it sound like the most epic career there is out there.”

“I think it is, at least for the right people.” Travis looks around. “Dixon, there’s a seat at the bar now.”

“But we still have to have a drink,” Dixon whines, mostly for Anna’s benefit but a bit for mine, too.

“We can order a drink there, it’s the bar. Let’s leave these two alone and go.”

“Fine,” Dixon says with an exaggerated huff. He takes two steps before he spins back around. “But we’ll be back for dessert.”

As they make their way across the room, our server appears to clear our plates while another one seamlessly slides our meals in front of us. As we dig in, I reach out and place my hand on Anna’s.

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