—
The atmosphere at the Sin Bin was definitely somber that evening. More players than usual had gathered, with several tables pushed together at the back so there was room for them. They didn’t talk much about Max and Ariana, mostly shaking their heads and saying it sucked.
“I had an idea.” Duncan spoke up. “I’m gonna talk to someone at the Foundation tomorrow about it. Something we can do to raise money for cancer research.”
They all nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, man. Christ, whatever we can do.”
Duper bumped his shoulder with his in approval.
It wasn’t much, but if there was any way they could show their support for their teammate and his wife, they’d do it. Duncan still felt guilty for being annoyed at Hallsy’s poor performance lately, even wondering if he was doing drugs.
His mind then turned to Amber’s dad. Holy, holy shit. Never in a million years would he have thought she was Deke Johnson’s daughter. This information burned on his tongue and he wanted to share this incredible fact with Duper, but he knew he couldn’t. He’d promised Amber.
He understood that. This also made him uneasy, though. He wasn’t the most famous athlete in the world, but he did get attention in the press. There were stupid gossip websites and blogs that were always posting stuff about the players. If he and Amber were…okay, he wasn’t thinking the M-word. Yet. But he was really, really into her and wanted her in his life. If someone dug into her background, they’d easily find out who she was and it would be all over the world faster than you could say “Internet.”
Christ. He rubbed his face. She didn’t want that, and he didn’t want to do that to her.
So what did it mean for them? Right now, they were staying under the radar. He liked low-key restaurants and playing paintball and staying home to watch Duck Dynasty. But at some point he’d want her with him when he went somewhere more high profile.
He turned to watch her chat with some customers, narrowing his eyes at the guys who flirted with her. But the table she was at had two couples, and both the men and the women were smiling up at her as she made some comment. Then she moved away and headed toward his table.
Her eyes met his as she approached. Tonight she was wearing that black skirt that showed off her tight little ass and long legs, her top loose and drapey but still somehow sexy. He smiled and held her gaze as she neared them. She stopped next to him.
“Hey. Doing okay here?”
He knew her words were meant for him alone. He nodded, but the other guys responded.
“Hey, Amber. I could use another Ice draft.”
“You bet. Anyone else?”
She got their orders, then disappeared again while Duncan nursed his second and last beer of the night.
Now he knew why she’d been so paranoid about him driving drunk. Jesus. Her dad had been lucky he hadn’t killed himself or someone else that time he’d crashed his car into a bridge. And yet he hadn’t seemed to learn his lesson, because there’d been other incidents too.
Christ. Deke Johnson’s fall from grace had been epic. It was sad how someone with so much talent could have pissed it away like that. Pathetic. Now he was a convicted felon.
He remembered Amber saying she’d played a little soccer in high school. Ha. She was probably as talented an athlete as her father. And her mother…maybe Amber had gotten her looks from her. But no modeling career. No sports career. No, her goal in life was to make Chicago a better place to live, one neighborhood at a time.
That was her choice and he respected her for it. He wanted her to be happy. The scary thing was, she probably had a better chance of that away from him.
Fuck.
—
“Our grant money came through, so now we can offer you the position.”
Amber gripped her cellphone. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her dream of working full time for the Chicago Communities Program was coming true! “That’s wonderful.” She tried to keep the fact that she was literally jumping up and down in her living room from showing in her voice.
“It’s only a one-year term,” Naomi cautioned her. “But there’s a good chance it could become a permanent position after that. Are you still interested?”
Yes! “Yes, I am.” She kept her voice casual. A one-year term was a whole year, and that was more than she’d had from any of the other places she’d applied to. And this was the one she wanted to work at, where she’d interned, a place she knew, an organization whose mission and goals she supported. Worst case scenario, she’d have a year of experience under her belt if she had to go job searching.
They discussed salary details. Amber was able to negotiate a little higher than their first offer, but she didn’t push things too much. She knew the budget constraints nonprofits worked within. They hammered out a few other details.