Page 21 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

“You’d do that?”

She shrugs. “I ramble professionally.”

That makes me laugh.

She points toward the ballroom. “So. You ready?”

I glance toward the door.

Then back at her.

Not really.

But at least I won’t be walking in there alone.

The rest of the evening isn’t nearly as terrifying as I’d expected.

Mostly because Jo refuses to leave my side.

She somehow has a conversation with the mayor about local youth sports, remembers the name of the foundation director’s wife after hearing it once, laughs at my teammates’ terrible jokes, and gently steers every conversation whenever she notices me beginning to freeze.

I don’t even realize she’s doing it at first.

Someone asks me about the upcoming season.

Before I can overthink my answer, Jo smiles.

“You should hear him talk about the rookie receivers.”

Every head turns toward me.

Not because they’re waiting for me to perform.

Because they’re genuinely interested.

“They’ve been working hard,” I say. “They’ve got a lot of talent.”

One of the donors nods.

“I watched training camp. That kid from Ohio looked impressive.”

“He is.”

The conversation keeps going. Nobody notices that Jo quietly nudged it back onto safe ground.

More guests approach. Each time, she’s there. Never answering for me. Never taking over.

Just...making it easier.

By the time dinner is served, I realize I’m actually enjoying myself.

Monica catches my eye from across the ballroom. She gives me a subtle thumbs-up. I shake my head. She grins.

She knows exactly why tonight is going so well.

It isn’t because I suddenly became charming.

It’s because Jo somehow makes every room feel better.