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Chapter Two
Knox
Getting the chance to catch Saylor alone has been my mission for three months–one in which I was starting to give up hope of happening. The woman is as elusive as a pink unicorn and as skittish. Yes. I realize unicorns aren’t real.
From the second I saw her walking beside Isabella, I’ve been intrigued. She’s beautiful. Long reddish blonde hair that lays flat against her back in a thick braid and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Stunning blue eyes with little flecks of gold that are like staring into a bottomless sea. She hides a curvy body under oversized clothes, which is understandable considering she works for a professional football team. She must be used to guys following her around.
Yet, here I am, doing that very thing and struggling to be original. And failing miserably. All I can say is, ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘Let me get it.’ I roll my eyes and wait for her to step off the elevator. Think of something original to keep the conversation flowing. “Did you grow up here?”
“Yes.” She nods as we walk side by side down the hallway leading to her office. To go along with her festive sweater, she’s wearing blue jeans and black boots. “I lived about thirty minutes from here.”
“What do your parents think of you working at a football stadium?” Yes, I’m fishing. If her dad is a football fan, that might give me an in with her. The carpet muffles the sounds of our footsteps.
She bites her bottom lip. “My parents died when I was twelve. I lived with my mom’s parents after that.”
“Fuuck.” I close my eyes and groan before reopening them. Son of a bitch. Be unique. Bring up the worst memory of her life. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“It’s fine.” She stops and places a hand on my forearm. “You didn’t know, and it was ten years ago.” We’re stopped in the middle of the hallway. The floor is quiet as most office staff have gone out for lunch and the coaches are all in meetings.
She licks her lips as if she’s debating whether to divulge more. “My father was Samuel Brennon. I doubt you’ve heard of him, but he played for the team for ten years before retiring.”
“Samuel Brennon. Ring of honor. Of course, I know who he is. That’s amazing. I didn’t connect you with him.”
“He and my mother were hit by a drunk driver after their anniversary dinner. I was at my grandparent’s house, or I would’ve also been killed. Their car was destroyed and caught on fire.”
My stomach clenches and my heart beats erratically against my ribs as flashes of screaming metal and sirens flood my senses, and I push them back. She’s alive. She’s standing here. It’s fine. No, it’s not.
I grew up in a football family, so I heard about the accident. However, I was fifteen and considered myself indestructible, so it didn’t faze me. Now, I’m freaked the fuck out.
“I’m sorry.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. She rests her cheek against my chest, and I inhale her scent. She smells of spices and vanilla reminding me of cinnamon buns and sugar cookies. It blankets me and warms me from the inside out.
“Thank you. It’s nice working here. We had season tickets to the games, and my favorite memories of them are from here at the stadium.” She sags against me and sighs as if she rarely shares her personal struggles with anyone.
“I’m glad you have good memories of them.” I brush my lips against her temple, and she shudders.
“I should get back to work.” She dislodges herself from my embrace and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Isabella doesn’t pay me to mope in the hallway, and she expects these decorations to be unpacked and on display by the time she gets back from her meeting.”
“I love decorating.” Hell, I’d love cleaning toilets if it kept me talking to her. I’m terrified this is my one chance to spend any time with her before someone else snatches her up. Maybe I’m wasting my time, and she’s already seeing someone. My eyes dive to her ring finger. It’s bare, with no indentations from a past band.
Her face pinches together. “You love decorating?”
“Sure.” Heat spreads over my face. “Christmas is one of my favorite holidays. And Thanksgiving.” I shift the box under my arm and walk to Isabella’s open door. “My mom is a great cook, so any holiday where there’s food involved, and I’m all in.”
I drop the box on the empty space on her desk. “What’s your favorite holiday?” Please don’t say something horrible happened on Christmas.
She smiles with twinkling eyes while depositing her bags next to the box. “I love Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday. My grandparents go all out with oversized trees, garland, and ribbons on the banisters of the open staircase. They start blasting Christmas carols as soon as Thanksgiving dinner is made.”
“That sounds like fun.”
She leans her hip against the desk. “They were determined to keep my parent’s traditions alive. It’s when I feel closest to them.” She rubs her hands on her upper arms. Thank God. The last thing I want to do is stick my foot in my mouth again.
“Let’s decorate.”
“Shouldn’t you be in the gym?”
She knows my schedule. That’s a positive sign. Right? Hope spreads through me. “One of the guys can spot for me later.” I grab a snowman and lift it out of the box. “Where does this go?”
Her eyes dart around the room before she jogs to the table in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Here. This would be perfect.”
