CHAPTER THREE
Five years ago
THEY WEREN’T GOING to win. Dexter knew it.
The Pilots were down a field goal with ten seconds left in the game. Hemlick was injured and their second string quarterback had already taken a nasty hit the O-line had failed to stop. It left the Pilots too far from the goal at fourth down.
This game meant everything. If they didn’t win against Seattle, no playoffs. End of season. And football was far too short not to see the Pilots with that coveted Super Bowl win. Not to see a few more games fueled with excitement and energy.
The noise inside the stadium reached a high as the Pilots’ kicker—a rookie out of Florida State—lined up for the fifty-six yard field goal.
The kid had already missed one tonight. A simple extra point, one that Dexter had watched him make all season long with ease.
A whistle blew through the space as Seattle called a timeout. Both teams broke out of their stances. Dexter had to believe the rookie couldn’t be iced, but it happened to the best.
“It pings off the goal post and shoots inside the uprights.” A blond woman in dark jeans and a lacy top took the seat next to him at the end of the row. It had been vacant most of the night thanks to his brother—an event he’d come to expect. She settled in as if Finn had never been present.
She threw a glance backward and then focused on the game. Her cheeks were flushed and one corner of her lower lip was red. “We end up winning by a touchdown.”
“Excuse me?”
She turned toward him, a smirk flirting with plump lips and highlighting startling emerald-green eyes. “Can I borrow this seat a second? I promise I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
He glanced around the area. Didn’t see his brother anywhere. Wasn’t really surprised other than that Finn had been begging to go to this game for months. Something about male bonding and brotherhood. Wanting to have a serious discussion. “Lose yours?”
She unzipped the bag at her feet, her long blond hair sliding over one shoulder as she pulled out a pair of boots. Then traded the sandals on her feet for the suede footwear, shoving the pink strappy contraptions into the bag. “Not exactly.”
He resisted the urge to chuckle. “Which means…?”
Her eyes hit his, a zap flooding his body. Maybe Finn didn’t have the wrong idea. Not that Dexter was taking pointers from his always-on-the-prowl kid brother.
“I never had one.”
He nodded. “I see.”
“Do you?” She whipped the lacy top from her torso, the black tank-top underneath disappearing beneath a blue Pilots jersey in seconds. “You like football?”
His family held season tickets. Had for over ten years. He and Finn had spent a good amount of their teen years in these seats. “You obviously don’t. Seeing as you didn’t buy an actual ticket to this game.”
She pulled her hair from beneath the jersey’s material and had it braided in seconds. “Never said that.”
“Are you always so vague?”
“Depends.” She leaned an elbow on the armrests separating them, her face moving closer. A hint of jasmine floated between the smell of beer, hotdogs, and nachos. “You always attend sporting events solo and then talk to strange women?”
He couldn’t help smiling. He shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t encourage more conversation with a woman who likely made a habit of gatecrashing. Was probably using him to evade security. “Only when they fall into the seat next to me. I’m here with my brother.”
“Ah.” She shifted away from him. “Let me guess. Beer and food run? Because we win tonight and you’re gonna need the sustenance in the brutal overtime we’re about to have.”
Or to peel his brother from whatever female disaster he’d attached himself to. Dexter shifted in his seat. Finn was a pain in his butt. While everyone hoped he’d eventually settle down because they believed his antics were harmless, Dexter worried.
He was the only one that saw what Finn was doing—what a lot of men his age were doing—as dangerous. Dating was one thing, this constant revolving door another.
The choice of companionship subpar.
“That’s what happens.” Her voice—a soft sultry timbre with a bit of Southern twang—pulled him back to the present. To the whole reason he was even here. To relax. Enjoy himself. Not worry what his brother—no longer a kid, but an adult—was or wasn’t doing.
“Concessions go crazy beforehand. Half these idiots drive home drunk and judging from this empty seat, you wade through the masses to find your brother—who is probably with a woman, right? Why else would he miss this?” She motioned to the stadium, the surrounding fans, and the teams lining up back on the field.
The stadium erupted in chaos again.
“The rookie does a celebratory dance.” She leaned closer to be heard over the noise. The nearness—the warmth from her body—rippled across him. “Seattle’s defensive tackle, Omar, shoves him. He becomes a human bullet with a sideline trajectory that ends up injuring Seattle’s running back on the sidelines. Lands them all with a hefty fine and Markel with a torn ACL.”
Dexter leaned away. “You’re the resident expert on future football stats and injuries?”
One blond eyebrow lifted. “For right now.”
“Say I buy any of what you just said—”
“You don’t.” She smiled, all confidence. It was mesmerizing. It scrambled his brain and quickened his heartbeat.
“No.” In any other situation he would’ve excused himself long ago. So why didn’t he? “Do you?”
She licked her lips. “They say seeing is believing.”
“What about believing without seeing?”
She nodded. “That, too. I could blow smoke up your rear. Tell you that I’m a nice girl from a respectable family.” She put one palm to her cheek and batted her eyelashes. “Silly me, I’ve kind of lost my place in this big ol’ stadium. Would you be a peach and help me out of this mess?”
He laughed. “Does that work?”
She shrugged. “No idea. Never tried it. Doesn’t really fit my persona. I’m more of a—”
“Hey, I saw this open seat and thought I’d take a chance?”
She grinned. “Yeah. Something like that. Is it working?”
A little. “Maybe try less of the weird predictions.” He stuck out his hand. “Dexter Knight.”
She grabbed his fingers, her skin soft and warm in his. “Hey.” She nudged him with her elbow, pointed toward where the kicker moved toward the ball. It sailed toward the uprights. Pinged off the edge of one. A collective gasp went through the stadium as it wobbled before moving through them.
And then everyone was on their feet, the cheers louder than before. The rookie moved through a dance, his attention on the crowd and not Seattle’s defensive back who headed toward him, arms braced for a shove.
He hurled toward Seattle’s sideline and right into the side of Markel’s left knee. He went down, a grimace on his face and his hands around the appendage.
What the…? Dexter’s gaze whipped toward the woman. The seat was empty, his hand no longer holding hers. A peek of her blond hair and blue jersey moved out of the stadium. Her bag was still on the ground near his feet.
His heart picked up pace as he jumped over it and moved toward her retreating form. Elbowed past a crowd of college kids and weaved around a family of four before he caught up to her.
He grabbed her arm. Halted her forward momentum. “What was that? How’d you know?”
She smiled. “Weird predictions.”
He released her. Was she for real?
She withdrew a sharpie from her pocket, then raised his sleeve. “Don’t let anyone talk you out of your work at the prison, Dexter. And don’t let your brother near anyone named Mia.” She paused a second, indecision rippling across her face. “There’s so much more I wish you could see.”
His heart pounded too loudly in his ears. “What?”
Her gaze lit around the stadium, before she resumed her work. “Everything changes. Everything. This.” She touched the place where she wrote, her fingers feather light. “This is the only thing that remains.” Then she walked off.
Left him rooted to the spot, the crowd a loud echo in his head.