“I’ll be fine on my own,” I tell Ramone, the bodyguard Caleb assigned to Sarai and me for tonight’s game.

It’s not unusual for professional athletes as popular as Caleb to have security for them and their families, but we’ve never used it before tonight. We don’t need it, but Caleb insisted.

“Really, you don’t have to sit with me,” I say, holding onto my patience.

Ramone’s face goes from impassive to obstinate. “Protecting you is my job, Ms. DuPree,” he says, his voice as stiff as the collar of his heavily starched shirt.

“Your job?” I shift Sarai on my hip and juggle the nachos I bought as we make our way to the seats Caleb secured. “You mean just for tonight, right?”

He blinks at me as if I’ve asked him a hard question. He’s saved by the bell when someone calls my name from behind.

“Iris?” the deep voice asks again, prompting me to search the cluster of people around us. “Is that you?”

A huge smile overtakes my face when I spot Jared Foster.

“Oh my God, hi.” I take a few steps in his direction, side-eyeing Ramone, who is with me every step of the way. “So good to see you.”

“I thought that was you but wasn’t sure.” He smiles warmly, looking from me to Sarai. “And who’s this beautiful girl?”

“My daughter, Sarai.” I brush dark curls back from her forehead and drop a kiss there.

“So you’re the reason Mommy wouldn’t come work for me,” Jared says, bending to peer into Sarai’s dark blue eyes.

“Pretty much.” Regret spears through me right alongside the pride I feel when I look at my little girl. “I can’t exactly hustle and grind and travel and do all the things the internship would have required right now.”

“True.” Jared reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet. “But maybe circumstances will change, or the job will.”

He proffers a business card to me, which I stare at like it’s Willy Wonka’s Golden Ticket. I don’t have a free hand to take the card, and I’m too shocked to, anyway.

“I’m not with Richter anymore.” He realizes my small dilemma and slides the card into the open front pocket of the baby bag hanging from my shoulder. “My cell’s on the card. When things settle some, call me.”

I glance from the card poking out from the bag to Jared’s handsome face. “I’m with Sarai’s father, Caleb Bradley, and we live here in Baltimore, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to . . . that is to say . . .” A brittle little laugh breaks over my lips. “There are just a lot of obstacles.”

“Let nothing hold you back or keep you down,” he says, kindling my memory. “Isn’t that what you told me in our interview?”

“Yeah.” I return his smile. “I guess it is.”

He smiles, his eyes curious. “Bradley, huh? Would never have guessed.”

“You know Caleb?” Of course. Everyone knows him. “I mean, personally?”

“No, only by reputation.” Jared grimaces as if that reputation isn’t great, which makes no sense. Everyone loves Caleb. Living with him, I’ve seen the holes in the polished façade he projects to the world, but few do.

“We should get to your seats, Ms. DuPree,” Ramone says firmly, aiming a sharp look at Jared.

“Don’t let me keep you,” Jared says easily, addressing me and ignoring Ramone. “You have a beautiful daughter, Iris. Call me when she’s a little older if you decide to venture back into the workforce.”

“I will.” I hesitate a beat before asking the question that keeps turning in my head “Why? Why would you want me to come work for you? We had one interview, and I—”

“Impressed me,” he cuts in. “It wasn’t just what was on paper. It was you. Your passion for sports. Your love for basketball and your grit. Your intelligence. It all showed in that interview. A lot of people would love having you on their team, and I’m one of them.”

He looks at Ramone, who shifts impatiently from one foot to the other.

“I’d better let you go,” Jared says, amusement in his eyes. “Remember. Call me when you’re ready.”

I try not to glare at Ramone as we take our seats just a few rows behind the Stingers’ bench. He’s just doing his job. I get it, but Caleb and I definitely have to talk about this.

Even Ramone’s overbearing presence can’t dampen my spirits. Jared Foster wants me on his team. I may be closer to independence than I thought.