Page 31 of Protecting Player #73
Shouts of excitement explode from the team. Exhilaration resonates through my bones. Fire and purpose settle in my heart as we meet hands-in and chant before rushing out of the tunnel and onto the field.
The crowd is already roaring for their home team, lights blare onto the field, and music pumps from the stadium speakers. After gaining my bearings, I search for the box I rented for Brea and everyone who came with her. It doesn’t take long to find because I see Alex and Adeline standing at the window, pointing down to behind our bench.
Following their line of sight, I spot Brea standing on the track surrounding the field, camera in hand, and I rush over to her. “You’re supposed to be up there.” I nod to the box.
“I know, but my job is down here.” She lifts the camera as if I forgot about it. “Plus, I wanted to see my man up close before he started wiping the field with these guys.” She shifts to the right and glares at a few players before adorably sticking out her tongue.
“You’re fucking cute, pup.” Grabbing the front of her sunflower-covered dress, I drag her in for a searing kiss. Her hands wrap around my neck as she pushes up for more. “Tonight, you become mine, and I can’t fucking wait.” She shivers as I mutter the words between kisses. The relief that the franchise accepted our relationship agreement makes showing her affection in public possible.
“Go win this game, then, soon-to-be husband.”
Nipping her bottom lip, I rush off to do just that. Best damn game of my career.
Chapter 22
Brea
“Holy shit,” I hiss when T.K. sacks the quarterback. They hit the ground hard, and T.K. bounces to his feet and celebrates with the others. The entire game has played out like this. He is not giving an inch on the line. The Fortune had two turnovers after we fumbled the ball, but neither resulted in touchdowns, only a few yards gained.
“Are you guys watching this?” I turn the camera so that my live streamers can see my face, and I read a few reactions. “Right! This game is insane.” Another comment by a name I have come to recognize, stating the boys must have eaten their Wheaties this morning, makes me laugh out loud.
“Last play of the game, everyone, keep your eyes open!” A huge grin spreads across my face as T.K. runs back on the field with rookie Damaris Jones. “Lining up,” I whisper, just as the whistle blows. “Ten seconds,” I mutter. “Five.” I hold my breath as T.K. and Damaris force another sack, and the horn blows, ending the game. “Win!” I shout and pan the camera as the remaining team rushes out to the field to celebrate together.
“Final score, guys…” I pan to the Jumbotron displaying 34-0. “A clean sweep for the Portland Settlers in beautiful LasVegas!” Merely seconds pass before T.K. works his way over to me. “And here comes the star of the game, everyone.” Damaris follows hesitantly behind. “Settlers fans meet the one and only Damaris Jones!” The younger player looks up, clearly shocked, with flushed cheeks and eyes shining brightly with excitement.
“This is the man I was speaking about earlier. You watched him get his first sack on his first play, and now, it’s our turn to help the promising young rookie out. Damaris, give a hello to the best fans in the league!”
He waves and smiles. “How’s it goin’, Portland?” He’s shy; it’s endearing.
“Alright, I know we’ve got some real estate agents watching. Damaris, why don’t you give them an idea of the housing market you’re interested in, and if someone in the industry has some ideas, they’ll shoot me a message, and I’ll get you in touch?”
“For real?” He glances at T.K., who now stands behind me with his hands on my hips, holding me in close. “Uh, I’m looking for a good school district. Mom would love a garden, maybe a driveway big enough to put in a hoop, and a backyard that could hold BBQs with the family.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Damaris, and congrats on your first win!” He’s gone with a wave, following the team back to the tunnel. “Well, you heard it, folks. If this is something someone can help out with, shoot me a DM, and we’ll find this boy a home! For now, we’re signing off because in about an hour, I’m getting married. And since we’re in this together, you’ll be there too! See you soon.” Blowing a kiss, I post the live stream and turn to T.K.
Immediately, his lips ravish mine, and shocked murmurs begin as people start to notice. Drawing back, he wears this look on his face–half soft and loving, half feral and impatient.
“One hour,” I sigh.
“One hour,” he growls, the words sounding like a threat as he breaks away from me and heads into the locker room to getcleaned up and changed for our meetup at the Bellagio, where he’s rented us a suite for the night, and a justice of the peace awaits in a ballroom to marry us.
It always surprises me how quickly the field and stands clear after a game that recently held so many people. There’s no logic in it. Of course, outside the stadium, Portland fans are still buzzing with excitement over their team's win, while sadness reigns among the Fortune fans who lost. And then there’s the drunken idiocy that stumbles across my path as I make my way down the concourse to where Alex and Adeline wait next to our ride. Two men argue over who is the better team, too drunk to realize a cop is following along, just waiting for the chance to arrest them.
“That was amazing!” Addy hugs me. “I think I watched you more than the game, but we loved every minute of it.”
“They were great!” Alex joins us. “God, did you see the way T.K. made that one tackle? I think their QB’s ears are going to ring for a month!” She snickers when some rando glares as he walks past.
“And that man’s about to be my husband.” My dreamy sigh is plagued with worry because I’m unsure if my parents are coming, and I’m afraid to ask.
“Yes, he is.” Alex winks at me. “So let’s get this show on the road!”
We load into the car, which takes us directly to the Bellagio, where we’re greeted by a staff member, who guides us through the hotel.
I’m not unfamiliar with luxury–as a semi-retired attorney, our dad has taken us on expensive vacations before–but nothingprepared me for this. From the moment I step into the lobby, I feel like I’ve wandered into a painting, framed in gold and opulence. The air is crisp and lightly perfumed with a floral scent that is exquisitely expensive. The type of fragrance that lingers like a memory.
As we’re escorted to the elevators, I notice that the marble floors shimmer like the sun glinting off still water. Above us, the ceiling steals our breath. It’s a riot of hand-blown glass blossoms hung to fashion a suspended garden, catching the light and tossing it around in fractured rainbows. I’m utterly transfixed and pause without thought, my neck craned and lips parted. Each flower is vivid, conjured from a dream. Photos do not do justice to the beauty of this hotel.
“Have we entered the world of the aristocracy or what?” Adeline whispers beside me as we marvel at the countless floral arrangements situated around the spacious room. Roses, orchids, tulips. All vibrant, fresh, and beautiful. That’s what the scent must be.
