Chapter 16 Jaden #3
My eyes dart around the corridor, snapping from the loud slam of a door on one end to the rumble of a Gator cart pulling up with the water jugs, cups, and other supplies from the field.
“The press is taking a while. Maybe we should—”
“Hey, sorry,” Bryson says, stepping up behind me, a bit out of breath.
I spin and immediately look for his closed palm. His hand is open now, which makes me feel a little foolish.
“Great game!” Amelia steps toward her brother and kisses his cheek as she gives him a guarded hug. He’s pretty ripe with sweat, not to mention a dried line of blood that stretches from his elbow to his wrist.
“I guess you were all right,” Taryn says, waggling her head to play up her aloofness. She can’t keep the bored expression up for long, though, and her smile breaks into her cheeks after a second.
Bryson laughs good-naturedly before dropping his gaze to me. “And what about you? Was I . . . all right?”
My lips pull in tight on one side, the smile there despite how hard I try to pretend I wasn’t enamored with his every move.
I’m doing my best to play the part, but I’m not so sure what my character is supposed to be anymore.
His eyes linger on my face, dipping to my mouth for a beat, and I’m hit with a heated dart right to the center of my chest. I suck in my bottom lip and drop my gaze to my shirt—his jersey—stretching it out by pulling on the hem.
“I mean, I guess I’m not embarrassed to be wearing this,” I say, glancing up at him through my lashes.
His mouth curves up a hint, a subtle shift that I think is meant just for me.
Or maybe I’m entertaining fantasies again.
It’s hard to tell, but I know one thing for certain—I don’t want to be wrong.
I don’t like the uneasy feeling that’s vibrating my tummy.
“Hey, there’s my guy!” A deep voice with a thick Oklahoma accent crashes in from the other side of the corridor, and it’s obvious the moment the man’s hand lands on Bryson’s shoulder that it’s his father. Whatever energy may have been crackling between us before he arrived instantly fizzles.
“Hey, Dad,” Bryson says, shaking his father’s open palm with the same hand that had held my kiss. The two men hug briefly, then Amelia rises on her toes to kiss her father’s cheek. It’s strange to see these two confident young adults shrink so quickly.
“And you are?” Jacob Moss’s attention swings to me without warning, and for a tiny moment I feel like I’m under the spotlight in a prison break. I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back before extending my hand for a shake.
“I’m Jaden, sir. I work with your daughter,” I say. Bryson falls back a step, and my gaze drifts to him briefly, just long enough to see his brow furrow. Is it possible I hurt his feelings with that answer?
“Jaden. Ah, yes. The Jaden.” Jacob makes eyes at Bryson first, then at Amelia. Her posture shrinks under her father’s gaze, too, and something about that burns my stomach.
“Yes, I’m sorry about the mix-up with my pay. There was a water incident, and your daughter wanted to make sure that she got me what I was owed, so that’s why there was a charge on the business card. I’m sorry if that caused you any alarm.”
I ignore the sound of Bryson’s clearing throat to my right, instead focusing on the way Amelia is fidgeting with her hands and blinking her focus from her father to me, then to her brother.
I meet her dad’s hard stare, the amused smirk playing at his lips shadowed slightly by the brim of his black cowboy hat.
It’s strange how much his eyes are exactly like his son’s.
The wrinkles at the corners are a glimpse into Bryson’s future.
He finally offers a quiet snap of a laugh.
“I see why you hired her.” He waggles his finger in my general direction. “She’s got her head on straight. All business, this one, huh?”
I pair my tight smile with a raised brow, refusing to shrink the same way his children seem to in his presence.
“Join us for dinner, Jaden. I’d love to hear your take on this whole app business,” Jacob says, pulling a cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans, then holding up a finger and wandering a few steps away to answer a call.
“You don’t have to go,” Bryson says, his hand brushing my shoulder before his fingers stop at the edge of the jersey sleeve, pinching it and tugging lightly.
I flit my gaze to his and try to unravel what it is I think he’s actually trying to say behind those heavy eyelids and the gnawing at the inside of his cheek.
“I’d like to. If you’re all right with that?” I say in a soft tone.
“Please come,” Amelia adds. “Both of you.”
I assume she’s inviting Taryn as well, but before I respond, I wait for her brother’s approval.
My eyes remain glued to his, even after he offers a slight nod and utters, “Okay.” In fact, our connection doesn’t break until he walks away several seconds later, and I think the only reason he leaves is that his father’s call ends and he doesn’t want to be here when the man rejoins the conversation.