like he knew he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her.
“I knew I could do it, si?” Reese said, nodding to Wilkens when he tapped her shoulder. “I’ve made that distance a thousand times.”
“Not on this field,” Gia said, turned to stand in front of Reese. “Not in these conditions.” She could make out the concern bubbling behind Noble’s eyes. The way she pushed her eyebrows together, how she pulled her top lip under her teeth. Gia reminded herself to school the woman on controlling her expressions in order to maintain control. But really, it made her smile. She couldn’t help the laugh form leaving her mouth when it rose up in her and Reese’s reaction was instantaneous. Her lips twitched and she returned Gia’s smile, making the woman laugh even harder. “Ballsy. I like it. Keep that shit up.”
Then she turned, the laughter warming her chest, keeping her expression open as she moved off of the field and came to a group of players, a couple she was sure she recalled seeing that night at Summerland’s. The recall of her stupid mistake dimmed some of her humor and she frowned, shooting a glance at Wilson, who nodded at her and Baker who jerked his attention forward. She felt them watching, but ignored them, moving to join Cat, taking her phone from her when she offered.
“She’s amazing,” her assistant said.
“Utterly.”
She looked behind the players, head shaking before they both moved through the row of tables holding team towels, coolers, and bottles of water that sported the Steamers logo. The stadium was massive with rows and rows of seating that housed well over 70,000. Within each row were entry tunnels leading out of the stadium and into the building underneath. This was where Gia and Cat disappeared, moving through the corridors, past the concession crew and custodians as they pushed trays and buggies of equipment back into closets and storage areas. Then, as Gia thumbed through her email and Cat pulled up one of her scheduling apps, they came to a set of double doors.
“You’ve got that two-thirty with McAddams.”
“Downtown?” Gia asked, nodding to a security guard who held open one of the doors that led to a secured entry from the stadium to the business offices. Standing next to him was a group of three or four fans, all with make-shift Ryder Glenn and Kai Pukui T-shirts they’d bought and restructured—the collars had been cut and the seams frayed so that their cleavage was on display.
“In your office.”
“He wants to drink all my good whiskey, the cheap bastard.”
They walked through another corridor, this one more lavish, lusher than the stadium and came to a row of glass doors with the Steamers logo—a cartoon locomotive, a menacing face snarling, wearing a conductor’s hat, as steam billowed from an over-large stack—etched onto the surface. Gia waved at the main reception secretaries, listening to Cat as she continued to run through her schedule and then pushed the button to call the elevator.
“And Pukui?” she asked her assistant when they finally made it into the car.
“Ah…about that,” Cat said, hurrying to scrolling through something on her phone. “He left a message this morning, just before we went down to the field…something about his flight…”
“I swear to God, if you tell me that asshole is claiming another canceled flight…”
Cat glanced up from her phone, shaking her head. “Priscilla, Ricks’ assistant told me Coach was on the phone with Pukui at six yesterday last night, cutting up about something. She didn’t know what.” She tilted her head, following Gia when the doors opened, and they moved down the hallway and into Gia’s office. Cat closed the door before she continued. “She didn’t tell me everything she heard Ricks say, but she knows for a fact he gave Pukui the all clear to stay through next week if he needs to.”
“Next week…” Cat nodded and Gia twisted her mouth, moving her lips together as she turned, issuing a low, soft grunt of I swear to…Topanga under her breath before rounded to her desk and sat down. “Cat, would you please get Mr. Pukui on the phone for me?”
Her assistant stared at her, those black eyes rounding like she wasn’t sure if she move or ignore her boss’s request completely. Gia tapped her pinky nail against her desk, unable to keep another low noise from lifting out of her throat. “Is there a problem, Miss Phillips?”
“No…Gia…” She sat in the chair in front of Gia, leaning forward, all