Page 36 of Red Zone Realizations
“Sounds perfect, I’m sure he’ll get whatever brand he wants.”
“We’ll see.” I grunt. “I’m not a magician and I can’t make him do whatever I want. He has to agree.”
“That’s not my problem, is it?”
“It is a little bit,” I say.
“Thanks so much for calling and letting me know.” Her voice drips with false niceties.
“Congrats again on the new client. This could take you to new heights!”
My gut twists at the way she’s talking, pretending like everything is fine between us. I wonder if she’s at the shop with mom. She could be putting on a show like this for her sake. I want to speak up and tell her to get lost. To ask Mom and Dad for money again or do what most of America does and take out a loan, but I bite my tongue and say “Thank you. Talk to you later” instead.
“Bye,” she calls like the phone was already halfway from her face, ready to click the end button.
Then she’s gone and I’m sitting alone in my house again. My sister and I now have a fake relationship, which is worse than it used to be. Before, we just weren’t in the same place in life. Now, we might be enemies.
But I can’t focus on her a minute longer as I have animporant meeting with Noah tonight that I have to prepare for.
Noah is my easiest client by far. He never questions my ideas or opinions. He’s always on time and always polite. He has a twinkle in his eye that lets me know he might be up to something, but I mostly just shake that off. I could be convincing myself of it because it’s better than seeing him give up on me. I don’t have time to be worried about what that man could be doing.Please don’t let it be another woman. I know I have no claim to him, and dating is well within his right, but there’s a part of my stupid heart that would burn if I had to hear even one mention of his latest conquest.
I shake off those distressing thoughts and focus on the slide deck in front of me. Tonight, I’m headed over to Noah’s house after he’s done with football to pitch him a couple of partnerships I think would fit his image. The timing is perfect. A new season right around the corner means the hype for football is high. Right now, it includes a kombucha company, Nike (which, I’ll admit is shooting for the stars), and a hydration supplement similar to Gatorade, but with less sugar. I’m interested to hear his thoughts on these potential brands. I’ve done the market research and taken into account what I know about him, but obviously he has the final say.
Regardless, I’ve done the work for this client and am confident one of these sponsorships—or maybe more—will pan out.
Later that night, a huge gate whines as it lets me through. I step out of my car and onto the gravel driveway of a beautiful house in a nice area of downtown. The sidewalks are perfectly trimmed; the oak trees are huge and lush. I turn to face Noah’s house. It’s exactly how I expected it. White stucco, light gray plaster, with modern black accents and dark brick. I walk up the front steps and the door swings open. Noah walks toward me, hands out to take my laptop bag from my shoulder and the stack of folders out of my arms. He leans in and kisses my cheek like he literally can’t hold himself back from it. It might be a little more than acceptable for someone’s “business partner,” but we’ve thrown most normal things out the window already. Plus, I’m not about to fight him. I missed the feeling of his nearness. This deal is working for us both, but I know he feels the undercurrent of something else running between us. The same current that had us falling asleep on the phone. This feeling is almost a tactile thing—it crackles in the air.
Noah steps back. “Come in. I just put the rice in the jambalaya.” Of course he’s making us dinner. I would expect nothing less from a man as in touch with everything as Noah is. His family, his team, himself, and his connection to food. I’m sure he appreciates the time it takes to make a dish where you have to build levels of flavor. First searing the chicken and sausage, then softening the holy trinity (onion, celery, and green bell pepper), before adding in tomatoes, spices, and broth.
I step in behind him, giving his taut body a quick once over while I have a second. He’s in casual athletic clothes. Like what anyone would put on when they get home after a day of work. Only difference is the blue and white Hurricanes logo. “It smells amazing, I can’t wait.”
Whatever the opposite of a bachelor pad is, Noah’s house is that. There are photos hung on the wall, throw pillows on the couch, and a basket of neatly rolled blankets near the big screen TV. He sets my bag on top of the coffee table. “You can plug your laptop in here and put your slides on the TV when we’re done eating.” He turns and heads into the kitchen and I follow, trying at the same time to take in the rest of his house. Being alone with him is something I’ve been nervous about. I’m not a Netflix and chill kind of girl, and I didn’t want to give any mixed signals. Now, I’m here for the first time under different circumstances than I had originally thought.
His kitchen is a reflection of him. Dark but warm. Clean-cut but soft around the edges. There’s black cabinets and gleaming white quartz countertops, but the fridge is covered in save-the-dates and family photos. Noah is a man who isn’t afraid to show you his gooey insides. I imagine that the Noah I’m in the presence of now is quite the contrast to number 49 on the field. I come back to reality while he’s mid-sentence and I realize I missed what he was saying.
“–can eat at the table.”
I nod. “That sounds great.”
I start picking bowls up off the island. I turn to carry the salad and dressing to the table, and when I round the corner from the kitchen, I stop in my tracks. The far end of the long dining room table is covered in candles. At least fifty of them. Two chairs are set up at one end. The head of the table and the first chair to the right side. So many candles lay out before them, all the way down the long oak table. I’m sure I gawked for way too long when I feel the heat of Noah’s body behind me.
“Too much?” His voice is low, a soft breeze against my ear.
“Uh, no. It’s beautiful. Does everyone on your team get thistreatment?” I joke, attempting to lighten the mood, lift the weight of the lust between us and remind him that this is just professional right now; that it can be nothing more.
“No. Just those I really care about.”
Oh.My stomach drops to my feet. I wasn’t prepared for his brutal honesty. His unfiltered interest. I whirl on him, and he smirks.
“This is a personal dinner, Audrey. The business meeting is after.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“I do.” He nods. “And I’m nothing if not persistent.”
I scoff and march myself to the seat at the right of the table. Noah is immediately behind me, pulling it out for me. “Thank you,” I mumble.
He sits next to me and spoons a scoop of jambalaya into my pasta bowl. We eat in silence at first.
