Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mia
Football players are so much bigger up close than I realized.
Way more intimidating.
Last night, I watched the Sloths take down the Crabs from a front row seat courtesy of my alphas. Freddie offered me a chance to watch the game, too, but his plan involved holding hands with Simon the Sloth for the entire game. Something I didn't agree to for many reasons.
Imagine what the internet would say about that.
The team's win was impressive, beating their rivals by a solid three touchdowns. Somehow, in all the excitement of the win, I forgot to prepare myself for the reality of meeting the whole team face-to-face.
There are arms in this restaurant so muscular that they look bigger than my whole body. It would only take one of these guys deciding I'm not good enough for their team captain and tight end, and I could wind up squashed like a slug on the floor of this nice restaurant.
And that would be a real shame, because the red-orange and cream tiles in here are beautiful, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me they were imported directly from Italy.
Also, I think Spencer, Zak, and Freddie would miss me.
That's a good enough reason to avoid winding up splattered across the floor like spaghetti sauce.
Spencer's hand lands on my lower back like he can sense the panic trying to claw its way up my throat. Zak presses close on my other side, the two of them offering me safety and reassurance. Freddie walks a few steps ahead, strolling in like he owns the place.
He glances back at me and pauses until I'm close enough for him to whisper, "If anyone here bothers you, I'll throw garlic bread at them for you."
I smile.
That offer does help a little, mostly because humor helps ease my nerves. I don't actually think Freddie would have the nerve to throw garlic bread at a professional athlete, though it's always possible he could surprise me.
A particularly giant man seems to notice our arrival, breaking off from the group near the bar to head our way. I vaguely recognize him from studying the team's roster.
"There she is!" he booms in an obnoxiously loud voice that draws attention from the whole restaurant. He grins and opens his arms wide in welcome.
"Please be normal," Spencer grumbles.
"No promises." The man shrugs, his grin widening.
"Mia, this is Alan," Spencer says. "Linebacker, and part-owner of this restaurant."
Alan looks tempted to lean in for a hug until Spencer warns him off with a low growl under his breath. He politely holds his hand out instead, and shakes mine twice before releasing me quickly.
"We're all very excited to meet the woman causing these three to act even weirder than usual," Alan says, eliciting a small laugh from me.
"I'm so glad you could make it tonight, especially now that we're celebrating a big win!
The restaurant is closed tonight to host us, so make yourself at home.
The bar is open, and there's a pasta buffet set up in the back room.
If you'd prefer pizza, just let one of the bartenders know. Those are made-to-order."
The giant man's welcoming demeanor helps ease some of my nerves. If everyone is half as nice as this guy, I think I'll be spared the fate of ending my night squashed on the pretty tile floor.
"Is there going to be an eating contest tonight?" I ask before I think better of it. "Because I love pasta so much that I'm pretty confident I could out-eat even a room full of professional athletes."
The pack chuckles as Alan gets a good laugh over my claim. I'm not joking, though. Anyone who's known me for a while has inevitably seen me eat enough pasta to feed an entire neighborhood block's worth of families.
Instead of explaining that, I settle on a sweet smile.
Let him find out the hard way.
I hope my pack is helping chip in for the cost of this dinner because otherwise, I'm going to eat my way right through a week's worth of profit.
Alan's gaze slides past us. "Well, look who it is!"
We all turn to look in time to see the Sloths' head coach standing inside the door, his gaze scanning the room until it lands on us. All of the football players seem to stand taller, their reverence for their coach abundantly clear.
He walks toward us with long strides and the confidence of a man who knows he can bend an entire football team to his command. I'm almost jealous of the way he so easily has everyone's attention. Maybe I should have been a football coach.
The first omega football coach?
Definitely a questionable idea, but I'd love to see someone achieve that. Probably someone who understands football much better than I do.
"So this is Mia." The coach stops in front of me, looking me over in a non-threatening way that makes it clear he's only giving me a general evaluation.
His face breaks out into a pleased smile.
"I'm Coach Lamb." He nods to me rather than offer his hand.
"Usually, I skip these team dinners. Let the team bond and head home to my family.
But I had to make an exception tonight when I heard there might be an extra special guest in attendance. "
I blink. "Oh... uh... It's really nice to meet you, Coach Lamb."
"Sometimes we call him Lamby as a nickname," Freddie chimes in.
Spencer, Zak, and Alan all shake their heads immediately.
Coach Lamb scowls.
"No one has ever called him Lamby." Spencer glares at Freddie, who steps forward instead of backing down.
"Well, I do now!" he announces cheerfully. "Who's with me?" He looks around, but everyone else in the room is suddenly very busy looking anywhere but toward us. Freddie responds with an unfazed shrug. "Just me and Mia, then. That's cool."
"No," I say hastily, looking at Coach Lamb. "I won't call you that."
Coach Lamb narrows his eyes at Freddie. "And neither will you unless you want me to tell the higher-ups that I think we should consider replacing the mascot suit with a new style."
Freddie gasps and throws himself at Spencer, who has no choice but to catch him and steady them both. Freddie snuggles as close as possible to Spencer's chest and whispers up at him, "Please don't let the bad man hurt me."
Spencer squeezes his eyes closed and sighs.
Personally, I'm loving the way this interaction is taking the limelight off of me.
My confidence is back in full swing as I stand proudly amongst these three hot men, no longer feeling like I don't belong.
This is exactly where I belong, pressed between Spencer and Zak, giggling under my breath at Freddie's antics.
Coach Lamb shakes his head and clucks his tongue at Freddie. "Relax, kid. No one's going to mess with the sanctity of Simon the Sloth."
I have a feeling these kinds of conversations aren't unusual. Freddie doesn't care that he's a beta while Coach Lamb is an alpha. The man refuses to be fully tamed by anyone. Even Spencer accepts that there's only so much that can be done about Freddie.
Coach Lamb's attention returns to me. "You should know Spencer and Zak are good men. Solid. Reliable. And Freddie..." His expression is softer even as he glances at Freddie, who beams expectantly. "Freddie is a headache and a menace to the very institution of professional football."
Freddie puts a hand to his chest. "I knew you cared, Lamby."
Refusing to acknowledge the nickname this time, the coach continues, "Freddie is also incredibly loyal and keeps these two from being too serious all the time. Everyone has to let loose sometimes. So I suppose he has his uses."
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said about me." Freddie wipes away a legitimate tear from under his eye and tugs out of Spencer's grasp.
Before anyone can stop him, he throws his arms around Coach Lamb and practically squeezes the life out of the man.
Coach Lamb pants, trying to get his breath back, when Freddie releases him.
Spencer is quick to grab Freddie by the back of the shirt and pull him backward before he has the chance to escalate. Good thing the quarterback has excellent reflexes because I think I saw Freddie pursing his lips and eyeing Coach Lamb's cheek.
Freddie is a hot mess.
At least it's an emphasis on the hot.
"I'm going to make the rounds and then head out of here.
You all enjoy your night. Coach Lamb smiles one last time at me.
"So nice meeting you, Mia. I look forward to seeing you cheer these guys on at more games.
You all enjoy the rest of your night. After that win, you deserve to celebrate.
" He pauses to pat Spencer on the shoulder before moving on to show face with the rest of the team.
As soon as the coach is out of earshot, Spencer releases Freddie and groans. "Seriously, Freddie?"
"What?" he asks, his eyebrows scrunched with genuine confusion.
He doesn't have to try to create chaos; the chaos just comes naturally to him.
I giggle again.
I'm relieved to be able to enjoy the rest of the night free from worry as Spencer guides me around the room, taking turns with Zak to introduce me to the other members of their team. Freddie manages to get a laugh out of every single one of them.
I'm in great company.
There's just one thing I'm still waiting for, and the moment comes once we've loaded up plates at the buffet and sat down at a long table surrounded by other players, some of whom have their own families in tow.
Anthony, a wide receiver, is midway through praising Spencer's role in the final play of last night's game when I see my opening.
"Well, that fifty-eight-yard drive after the turnover was huge," I say, trying for casual confidence in my voice even as my butt clenches in my seat. "And Spencer went, what, six for six in the fourth quarter? That kind of efficiency is why you all dominated the whole second half."
Our table becomes noticeably quieter.
My heart stops.