She clicks the door shut.
My eyes close. My heart truly is made of stone . . .
Chapter 17
RONAN
Saturday rolls around with another win in the books for us last night. Only a few games left until the end of the season.
I step out of my Suburban and scan the parking lot the Tylers have set up across the street from their mansion in an open field.
I find Nova’s Caddy. She’s a few rows over, leaning against the car. Tucking my hands in my gray slacks, I walk toward her, unease in my gut. It’s been a cold week with us, even in the staff lounge.
My eyes take in her clingy black dress, above-the-knee length with a mandarin-style collar. Yellow roses splash over the fabric, snug against her curves. My groin tightens.
“You should have let me pick you up,” I say when I reach her, smoothing down my jacket. I sent her a text this morning, but she replied she wanted to drive.
She smiles tightly with red lips.
“I like your hair,” I say, reaching for normal. It does look pretty, swirled up in a complicated twist that frames her face.
“Thanks. Sabine did it.” She straightens up from the car. “As long as we walk in together, then that’s all we need. I’m ready for a drink.”
I exhale. “Nova . . . about the other day. I never want to hurt you—”
She stops me with a narrowed look. “We had sex. It’s done.”
Tension fills up the warm night as we stare at each other.
I don’t want it to be done . . .
Someone in the parking lot calls my name, breaking our connection.
“Fine,” I say, then crook her arm in mine as we walk toward the French-country-style mansion across the street. She stares straight ahead, a pinched look on her face.
“At least try to enjoy it,” I mutter.
“I will, darling,” she says, her accent thick.
Some of the players see us and jog to us, ending any other conversation. They’re dressed in khakis and button-downs, and I give them a nod of approval. We do fist bumps all around. Toby gives me a hug, and I squeeze his arm and tell him he looks great in his slacks and shirt.
Melinda and her dad are in the foyer when we enter. Melinda rushes to us, gives me a blinding smile, and then puts her hand on my other arm. “Ronan! I’ve been waiting for you. You remember my dad, of course.”
Before he can step forward, Nova leans in. “I’m going to get us drinks.”
My hand clings to hers longer than it should. I’m not ready to let her go, and I have a feeling she isn’t coming back . . . “Sure,” I finally say, my gaze searching her face.
Melinda eases her arm through mine as her dad shakes my hand. They lead me through the spacious house and to the grounds outside with acres of rolling hills in the distance. A huge white tent is set up with a DJ in the back. White-covered tables, champagne fountains, an elaborate buffet, and caterers dot the area. We end up at a table with other men who played football back in the day with Mr. Tyler. I get introduced around and say the usual things: Glad you came. Thank you for the support. Yes, the team looks incredible this season.
A few minutes later, I head to the podium and give a welcome speech to the guests. My eyes search for Nova and find her in the back with Sonia and Andrew and a few other faculty members. I pause midspeech, my gaze locking with hers.
I was already half in love with you . . .
What a crazy thing to say. Incredible, seemingly impossible, yet—
She sends me a fake adoring smile, then tips her glass of champagne up at me. I clear my throat, find my place, and finish. The partiers erupt in applause. Then Lois joins me and presents a slideshow of the games this season.
After the speeches are over, someone grabs me a water and a plate of food as I survey the crowd. The DJ plays a fast song, and I see several of my players dancing, along with Sonia and Nova.
Lois appears next to me wearing a floor-length maroon dress and her Stetson. “Nova’s having fun.”
“I see that,” I grunt.
She munches on a quiche. “You two look good together. You think it might be serious?”
I give her a pointed look. “Stay out of my love life.”
“You’re the one who asked for her to be your PA. I wasn’t going to meddle any longer after the party, but you insisted we give it to her.” She takes a drink of her champagne.
“She doesn’t know I got her the job.” My head tumbles with thorny thoughts, deciphering the reasons why I wanted her. She needed a job, and she loved football. Plus, I owed her something after that night in New York. The analytical side of me thought it would be a great idea after that kiss in the bookstore to ask her to fake date me. I even covered it with HR beforehand, although if the answer had been no, I still would have given the nod for her to have the job.