The Crush (5)

He sounded so sure about that, I winced.

I had a lot of strong women in my family. My four sisters and my mom were just about the only people in the world who could instill soul-deep, bone-chilling terror in me with a single look. So at the sound of his certainty, I had a moment of pause.

But I wouldn’t back out because she was in there.

Adaline was the reason I found myself standing outside the Portland Art Museum, wearing my custom black tux and a matching black silk half-face mask in order to take Parker’s place attending some charity masquerade.

But the long black car had already departed, leaving me standing in front of the museum, the tall brick building stretching in front of me in a way that shouldn’t have been so daunting. Inside, I could see lights from the event, the dull thump of music signaling the fact that the dinner was already over and the mingling and elbow-rubbing portion of the evening had begun.

The late flight hadn’t actually been a lie. But my late arrival ratcheted up my nerves in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

It had been five years since I’d seen Adaline face-to-face.

What the hell was I doing?

That was probably the most terrifying question of all. I wasn’t unsure about anything in my life.

It was what made me a good quarterback. A great one, actually. When I lined up before the ball snapped into place in my waiting hands, I knew exactly how I wanted each play to unfold. And if the defense twitched in a way I didn’t like, there was no hesitation in adjusting what would happen next.

Maybe the ball needed to come out of my hands two seconds faster because of a blitz, or perhaps a defensive lineman got his arm past someone protecting my blind side, and I had to adjust my throw. But no matter what happened on the field or what came at me, that gut instinct never steered me wrong.

And for the past six weeks, that instinct screamed at me to seek her out. To undo the absolute and utter stupidity of my younger self.

“It’ll be okay, Parker,” I assured him. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? I know she used to have a crush on you, and she’s been … happy since what’s-his-name left, but that does not mean she wants your overbearing ass to show up at a party unannounced.”

“I’m not showing up to be overbearing.” I ran a hand over my hair. It was longer in the off-season, slicked back in a way that made it look darker. “I’m just … taking my shot.”

“By flying to Portland. For a party.”

“Yes.”

“You’re fucking ballsy. I’ll give you that, Ward.”

I grinned. “You know how I get when I know something’s right.”

“It’s obnoxious. Do you know how much the coaches hate it when you disagree with their play call? Because everyone knows who will win the argument, and it ain’t them,” he drawled. “I think that’s what freaks me out the most.”

“What?”

“I do know what you’re like. I was your teammate for two years. Your idea of a raging Friday night is to study film. You memorize playbooks like Rain Man and never, ever indulge in anything that could distract you. You don’t drink or party or acknowledge the existence of fun.” He paused. “So yeah, the fact that you’re choosing my sister to play out some … rom-com fantasy makes me wonder about your sanity.”

“It’s not a random impulse, Parker,” I said.

“Dude. She worked for your aunt for two years before you got drafted. You could’ve taken a thousand shots with her.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Molly’s not my aunt. Well … she is, but she’s basically my sister.”

Parker made a disgruntled noise. “Your family tree is about as convoluted as mine. I get it. But my point remains the same. You had plenty of chances, and you didn’t take a single one of them.”

“When she worked for Molly, it wasn’t like I didn’t notice her. I liked her. She’s kind of hard to ignore, you know.”

“Stop. I do not want to hear this.”

The brotherly warning made me smile.

“Thank you for giving me your ticket,” I told him. “Even if you think I’m cracked.”

“Good luck, man. For what it’s worth.”

I blew out a hard breath. “You still gonna let me come stay for the weekend? I need to see this famous Wilder family homestead I’ve heard so much about.”

“As long as Adaline doesn’t get a restraining order on you, sure.”

“She’s not going to get a restraining order, you ass,” I said calmly, but heat crawled up my neck all the same. “I’m making a romantic gesture to surprise her.”

“Right, right, the thing she posted about the thing.” He sighed. “I heard all about it. Three times. But I’m telling you, she doesn’t like surprises.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

Once I’d done that, I shoved the phone into one of my back pockets and made sure the mask was firmly in place. I ran a hand over the bottom part of my face.

Would she recognize me?

Parker wasn’t wrong—this was completely and utterly out of the ordinary for me. If I wasn’t prepared for every possible outcome, I didn’t call the play. But after biding my time for the past six weeks, watching her social media, it was one post with a picture of a raspberry-topped cake that had me hopping my ass on a plane to take my first last-minute trip back to the Pacific Northwest in five years.