Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mia
I wave enthusiastically to my brother from the front row of the stands, and Milo rolls his eyes so hard I'm pretty sure he risks getting them permanently stuck pointing to the back of his head.
I'm super cozy.
The pack tried to convince me to watch the game from the sidelines, which is what they apparently believe is the proper spot for me, but I put my foot down. For once, I want to watch a game like a normal person. I'm happy to have an actual seat and no camera duties.
All around the stadium, there's a buzz of excitement as fans wait for the game to start. Most of the fans are in the Sloths' team colors, but a few pockets of the crowd are dressed in green for tonight's opposing team.
Pre-game music blares until the announcers have a job to do. A giant Sloths logo glows from the big screen attached to the scoreboard.
The whole experience is already magical.
I shift in my seat and smooth my hands over my outfit for the dozenth time.
I'm wearing normal clothes today. Cute normal clothes, even.
Dark jeans, knee-high boots, and a team jersey with no name on the back because Spencer and Zak argued for so long about which name I should wear that Freddie finally managed to produce a blank jersey for me instead.
No space-themed pajamas pants in sight.
That's called growth.
The seat beside me is still empty. The guys mentioned they reserved it for Trevor, the man who is allegedly their assistant, though none of them could explain to me any of the actual job duties that Trevor is regularly responsible for.
After they explained to me about Trevor's past and his status as a widow, I understood exactly why he's on their payroll. It's kindness. All three of my mates are full of kindness.
I've been growing increasingly excited for Trevor's arrival since I sat down.
I can't believe he really exists until I see him with my own two eyes.
A man with neatly styled hair and a suit that looks out of place for a football game makes his way down the row carrying a stadium pretzel.
His expression is focused on his steps, his forehead wrinkled as he stares down, looking like he's regretting being here.
He looks like he should be in an office, not at the 50-yard line.
This has to be the guy.
I brighten instantly and wave in greeting as he stops at the empty seat beside me. "Hi! Are you Trevor?"
"That's me." He looks up, tilting his head to study me before he smiles. "And you must be Mia. I recognize you from the dozens of photos Freddie has been sending me."
"Are you serious?" I ask, my mouth dropping open in horror. Why on earth is Freddie blowing up this guy's phone with photos of me?
He nods with grave intention. "I think he's trying to rub it in that I was hired to help the guys find a scent-match, but then they found you all on their own." He dips his head, and his ears turn pink at the tips.
Poor guy.
"I'm sure you did your best."
I pat the seat beside me so he'll sit. I've heard all about the original reason he was hired, and that's part of why I'm so excited to have the chance to meet him. There's something important I need to discuss with him. Something the guys don't need to know about.
"Besides," I say in a casual tone that definitely doesn't make me sound like I'm about to ask a favor even though I absolutely am, "you can think of that assignment as practice for your next task."
His eyes narrow in suspicion. I'm already digging the rolled-up folder out of my tiny purse. The fact that I can't bring a full-sized purse into the stadium totally sucks. This would look way more professional if I didn't have to smooth the folder out before handing it over.
Trevor fumbles to steady the pretzel in his lap and catch the pink folder I'm thrusting at him before either falls.
"What is this?"
"Your new assignment."
Trevor stares down at the folder, then back at me. "I'm sorry... Just to clarify... Are you allowed to assign me work? Spencer never really said either way..."
"Spencer is totally fine with me assigning you work." I nod with the confidence of someone who is blatantly lying for personal gain. I actually have no idea if Spencer would be cool with me utilizing their assistant.
But c'mon, someone ought to give the guy some real work to do.
"He would rather not know any details, though," I continue. "He hates dealing with all of this assistant stuff. He would really rather leave that to me."
Trevor nods like this makes all the sense in the world. "I noticed he didn't quite seem comfortable being my boss. So, I can go through you from now on?"
"Definitely."
Yep, I'll just keep nodding. The guys never need to know about this, and it'll help Trevor feel more gainfully employed. Everybody wins.
Trevor opens the folder to peruse the contents.
Inside is a carefully curated dossier on my boss, Quinn. There's a glossy photo of her from the company website, a bullet-point list of her best attributes, and pages of preferences on what she's looking for in a mate.
Of course, I'm the one who wrote the preferences down for her. She has no idea about any of this. She might murder me. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't fire me, though. I think she'd rather kill me than lose me as her marketing go-to gal.
"Your next assignment is going to be finding someone–or someones–for my boss."
He freezes mid-page flip. "Your boss?"
"Yep."
He looks back down. "This is the woman who started Nest & Knot."
"The very same."
"And does your boss know about this?"
I beam. "Nope. And it probably should stay that way, or she might threaten to rip your balls off your body. She's a total badass."
Trevor stares at me.
I stare back. I'm good at staring contests. It's a valuable skill in business when you're seated around a table with a bunch of men who think they know better than you. A ridiculous concept when the topic is female orgasms.
Finally, he says, "You're asking me to secretly look for scent-matches for your boss without her knowledge or permission."
"I'm asking you to keep your eyes open and exercise some initiative."
"Saying it like that doesn't really change my concern." Trevor glances at the folder again, his eyes drawn to the photo of Quinn.
"Don't worry too much." I pat his arm. "Sometimes fate just needs a little helping hand."
He gives me the most exhausted look imaginable. "That sounds like something a person might say right before everything goes catastrophically wrong."
"Or," I counter, "the thing I say right before everything goes delightfully right."
Trevor looks toward the field as if hoping football might save him from this conversation. He'll realize soon that I have no intention of letting this go. This feels like one of the best ideas I've ever had.
But my gaze moves toward the field, too, just in time to see my mates emerging from their tunnel, the team filtering onto the field to loud cheers that don't seem to faze any of them. My heart does that soft, swooping thing it's been doing ever since we bonded.
All three men turn to instantly look for me in the stands.
My breath catches.
I lift both arms and wave at all of them like the world's least subtle woman.
Trevor laughs under his breath. "That's sickeningly sweet."
"I know," I say dreamily.
Spencer heads toward midfield, broad shoulders straight and held with confidence. He's every inch the leader on the field that he is at home. I'm busy admiring him when I realize Simon isn't staying put where a mascot ought to stay put.
Oh no.
He's beelining straight toward me.
"Be prepared," I warn Trevor quickly.
"For what?"
I don't get the chance to answer because Simon reaches the sideline area directly in front of our seats and abruptly points one oversized sloth claw directly at me in the crowd.
Then he starts dancing.
Not just a little shimmy, either. A full-body, hip-swinging, crowd-rallying performance that draws the attention of everyone in the stadium. People around me start laughing and cheering. Someone a few rows back shouts, "Get it, Simon!"
My face heats as I realize what he's doing. He's completely singling me out.
"Holy shit," I mutter, half hiding behind my hand and half grinning despite myself.
A camera operator catches on immediately–probably because Freddie's theatrics as Simon are pretty impossible to miss–and suddenly the massive jumbotron screen flickers to life with a shot of Simon dancing his furry little heart out while pointing dramatically up at me.
Right at me.
The camera swings, finds my seat, and there I am in all my very normal-clothed glory, flashed across the giant screen for the whole stadium to see. My cheeks turn pink as I sit on display while Freddie continues his wild dancing.
The crowd roars louder.
Trevor actually laughs beside me, the traitor.
And this is why I'll never be caught dead wearing pajamas in public again.
Once Simon moves on, so does the jumbotron and the crowd.
I relax into my seat the moment the attention is off of me, and that's when Spencer catches my eye from the edge of the field.
He smiles at me as a whistle blows. The crowd swells with good energy all around me, and warmth seeps through my chest while my pack turns their focus to the field.
I'm surrounded by the chaos of the game, but this time, I'm not chasing along after the chaos. I'm admiring my pack from exactly where I'm meant to be.