At one point, Wyatt’s team was behind by three, and it was third and twelve. Their offense hadn’t been too reliable making the long first downs this game, so the coach signaled for Wyatt to get ready. I watched with a smile on my face as he shot practice kicks into the net on the sideline behind his team’s bench. It seemed like only yesterday I was babysitting, and he was taking practice shots on me in front of the soccer goal.
As had been the case for most of the game today, his team didn’t convert for a first down. So Wyatt jogged onto the field to set up for a field-goal attempt. I nibbled my lip, feeling tightness in my chest as I waited for him to take his shot. I had no idea how professional players managed the stress. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, and I was only a spectator at a high school game. I might’ve held my breath as he ran toward the ball and reared his leg back for the kick.
But I jumped up and down and screamed when the ball sailed through the uprights. “Great job, Wyatt! Woo-hoo!”
“Damn, I didn’t see you jumping around like that when McKenzie knocked the ball in for three last Sunday right before halftime.” A man’s voice startled me.
“Christian?” I turned and blinked a few times.
He smiled. “Bella?”
I peered around him, though I had no idea what I was looking for. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Bringing the media.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said your friend’s son is a good player, but his school doesn’t get much attention. I figured I’d help out.”
My mind was still boggled that Christian Knox was standing next to me, here at the field of St. Francis Prep High School in Queens. Not to mention, he looked ridiculously sexy in a backward baseball cap, so it took my brain some time to catch up. “But how did you know there was a game?”
“You told me the other day in your office, after you hung up from your call with the kid. I believe you referred to him as Trouble.”
I shook my head. “Oh, yeah…right.”
I wasn’t used to most men listening when I said something important, much less paying attention when I mentioned something in passing. “I can’t believe you’re here. Do all those news trucks follow you wherever you go?”
He shook his head. “I had one of the team’s publicists leak where I was heading.” Christian lifted his chin toward the scoreboard. “Your boy just tied it up, huh? I saw him knock it in while I was walking from the parking lot.”
“Yeah, he’s doing great. That’s his third field goal of the game.”
The reporters huddled in the parking lot were now spread out along the sideline, setting up their tripods. Christian noticed me looking around.
“I told them I’d talk to them after the game, but to keep their eye on the home team kicker until it’s over.”
“That was so kind of you. Thank you. Wyatt is going to freak out when he realizes all of these reporters are here to see him.” I paused. “Well, they’re here to see you, but you know what I mean.”
“No problem.”
We stood side by side, watching the game for a few minutes in silence. “Is your friend here?” Christian asked. “You said it was your friend’s son.”
I shook my head. “She couldn’t make it. She had to work. I try to come to all of Wyatt’s games anyway, but I like to make sure I’m here for the evening ones because I know she often can’t be.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed Wyatt and half of his teammates standing on the sideline, pointing our direction. I motioned across the field. “I think you’ve been spotted.”
Christian waved to them. “I remember the feeling they probably have right now. Coach came to all of my games. I was about their age when he brought his famous son the first time.” He smiled. “I remember running across the field after the game was over. I couldn’t wait to meet him. Halfway, I tripped over my own two feet and fell right on my face.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“I thought for sure John would never come back to another game, but he did.” He paused. “You know, Coach would probably love to come see a high school game like this. Have you brought him yet?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t. It’s kind of hard for me to bring him anywhere since I don’t drive, and he doesn’t get around so easily.”
“You know they have these things called car services now. I’m pretty sure it’s the billionairess’s preferred mode of transportation.”
“Cute,” I said.
Christian lifted his backward baseball cap off his head and spun it around forward. “That’s what the girls call me.”