Chapter 5
TJ
Iease my mystery woman down so she’s standing on her own two feet.
I immediately miss the warmth radiating from her body.
I don’t give her a chance to step too far away from me—not that there’s anywhere to go.
We’re on a small landing in front of a nondescript door.
I grab for her hand and, at the same time, use my other hand to twist the door handle, leading her toward the catwalk that crosses the rafters in the ceiling of the Atrium.
I step out first and look back to gauge whether she was honest when she told me heights don’t bother her.
Even though her face is covered with a mask and thick, artsy makeup spreading out from either side of it, I can still see her eyes—and while they’re wide with surprise, they aren’t darting around in a panic.
Calm in the face of a surprise. My kind of girl.
Wait. No. She’s not my anything. She’s my one-night good time.
That sounds ungentlemanly. My grandmother would bite my head off if she could read my mind right now.
But the point stands. This thing with Cinderella, or whatever her real name is, is for tonight. I don’t need to get attached. I need to show her some fun.
She pauses and slips her heels off, leaving them safely on the landing before stepping out behind me onto the vented catwalk.
Calm and smart.
Instead of dwelling on how this woman is quickly becoming the most captivating person I’ve met in some time, I focus on leading her to the middle of the walkway suspended high above the Atrium.
There are railings on either side, but it’s a narrow passage, so I go slowly, giving her a chance to follow me at her own pace.
I keep her fingers gripped in mine to steady her.
“Want to sit for a minute?” I gesture down to the walkway. “It’s not the most comfortable spot, but you can’t beat the view.”
She laughs softly. “It’s perfect. Yeah, let’s sit.”
We maneuver so we’re seated side by side, our feet dangling from the catwalk.
“Wow,” she says on an exhale.
I nod. We’re looking down from above the strands of twinkling lights. It’s like the party below is shrouded in a spider web of shining lights and we’re on the other side of it, protected somehow. Part of it, but separate. It’s like the best sort of out-of-body experience.
“This is incredible,” my mystery woman whispers. She turns to look at me, and I meet her gaze. She smiles, and it’s dazzling. “Thank you for bringing me up here.”
“You said you needed to be inspired. This is where I come for…” I trail off. For what, exactly?
“Inspiration?” she fills in with a small smile.
I return the smile. “I guess, but also not exactly. More like perspective. Solitude. A reminder that I’m a small piece in the mosaic of this great big world.”
This is the third time I’ve come up this way.
The first was when I got signed to the River Foxes as a rookie.
I was feeling pretty untouchable until I got turned around in the maze of hallways and was lost for twenty minutes until I found a maintenance worker who pointed me in the right direction.
Before he let me leave, he told me he wanted to show me this spot.
He didn’t say why, but I’m pretty sure he knew I needed to be knocked down a peg or two, and coming up here is a good reminder that I’m not as much of a big shot as I sometimes like to think I am.
The second time was on the third anniversary of Tess’s death. I couldn’t get to the cemetery where she was buried like I had planned, and I needed to clear my head and be alone with my memories. This felt like the safest place to do that.
I blink a few times, realizing that Cinderella is staring at me as I’ve been lost in my own thoughts.
I tug at my collar. “Sorry. That got deep fast.”
“No, it’s good. It’s a good reminder.” Her gaze holds a lot of questions, but she doesn’t voice any of them, clearly deciding to play by her own rules—rules I would do well to remember.
“Let’s get back to the fun,” I offer. “Since you’re obviously not afraid of heights, tell me something that does scare you.”
“That’s your idea of fun?” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Voicing my fears?”
She has a point. What can I say? Something about this woman is getting to me and making me want to know things … like what makes her laugh and what makes her scared and who’s hurt her and who’s healed her and everything in between.
“It could be fun.” I shrug and then smirk. “Also, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Hmm.” She taps her chin, looking up.
I take the opportunity to admire the blush crawling up her neck, inordinately proud that I put it there.
Even though I can’t see her full face, I’d bet money on this woman having a sort of timeless beauty.
Her skin looks milky soft, and I have a strong urge to brush my finger against her jawline.
The thought makes a spark catch at the base of my chest.
“I’ll allow it,” she says, startling me out of my own head. “But you first,” she adds quickly.
I blink and have to take a beat to rewind our conversation so I remember what we were talking about. The sight of Cinderella smiling over at me has every thought that’s not her, here, now fleeing from my brain.
“I’m fearless,” I quip, but she crinkles up her nose.
“Try again.”
I chuckle. “Fine. I’m afraid of zebras.”
She’s quiet for a second, and I keep my eyes glued to her as she presses her lips together—wow, we haven’t even talked about her lips yet—and raises her eyebrows high enough that they peek out over the top of her mask.
“You’re serious?” she says.
“Very serious.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“I don’t know. It’s like they don’t know who they are. Part donkey. Part horse. All around weird. Their black-and-white stripes make me dizzy. Yuck.” I shudder. “Don’t even like thinking about them, honestly.”
She bursts into laughter, and it’s my new favorite sound. “What have zebras ever done to you? Have you ever even seen one in real life?”
“At the zoo!”
“Ah, yes. The zoo is a terrifying place. I’m sure you’re just making it a regular thing to visit the zoo and be terrorized by zebras on what, a daily, weekly basis?”
I scowl at her, but it’s pretend. Her teasing makes me feel like a helium-filled balloon—like I’m full and alive and nothing can bring me down.
“Alright,” I say. “If my phobia is so funny to you, then you go.”
She sits back and primly folds her hands in her lap. “If you must know, I’m afraid of car washes.”
“Car washes?”
“Yes, the automatic kind that you have to drive into.”
“What’s so scary about that?”
She throws her hands up. “I don’t know. Probably nothing! I’ve never gone through one by myself, okay? I’m afraid I’ll mess it up, so I’m in this vicious cycle of being too nervous to try, and now I’m perpetually scared of it.”
“Huh.” I lean back as far as the catwalk will let me. Our shoulders are touching, my tux jacket brushing against the lace covering her arm. I keep an eye on her as she shifts next to me. She doesn’t look uncomfortable, but maybe a little embarrassed.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say, nudging her shoulder with mine. “If you ever want to give it a try, I’d ride shotgun while you face your fear.”
She turns her head in my direction, eyes narrowed as if trying to determine if I’m being serious.
I hold up my hands. “I know this is a one-night-only thing we’ve got going, but the offer stands. You know where to find me.”
Her lips twitch. “On the field, in the middle of it all … right?”
I nod. “You got it.”
“This is a one-night-only thing,” she says after a beat of silence.
Is it me, or does she not sound super happy about that? I mentally slap myself a couple times, trying to knock the wishful thinking from my brain.
“But,” she adds carefully.
The wishful thinking roars back, doubled in size.
But then the music cuts out from the party below, and Scott’s voice reaches us. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time! We’re going to get started on the live auction. If I could have my players up here.”
Just like that, the clock strikes midnight. My time with Cinderella is up.