Nick shook his head. “He gave up that right when he asked me to lie to you, Mom. I have to go.” He started for the door, but then remembered why he was there. “Lori, do you think Em would want to go to the Broncos game with me and Shelby tomorrow night?
Lori smiled. “Emily will be beside herself. I think she might be as much in love with Shelby as you are.”
“I’m not—”
His sister laughed and turned to their mother. “I told you. The man is completely dense when it comes to feelings. He never saw it with Beth, and now he can’t even recognize it in himself.”
“Don’t play your silly matchmaker games with me. I’m immune. I’ll pick Emily up in the limo here at five.” He slammed the door behind him to cut off any further ridiculous discussion.
It was futile to argue with them. Either of them. He wished his sister Rachel lived in town. She tended to side with him and helped even out the numbers. Except when the arguments were about his father. Nick was an island there. And he planned to remain one. Let the rest of them pretend their father wasn’t so bad. He knew the truth.
Strapping in, he started his car and backed out of the driveway. A week ago his life had been orderly and under control. Since the day he’d met Shelby everything had been out of sync.
But, admittedly, it’d been a nice change.
Maybe he had been working too much.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Chester really liked football. And Julie.”
Chester’s First Crush
Nick didn’t have time to get out of the limo before Shelby emerged from her house for the game on Monday evening. She’d dressed head to toe in Bronco’s gear, complete with an oversized jersey, well-worn jeans, orange tennis shoes with blue laces, and her blonde hair had slim streaks of the team colors. There was even a Bronco’s logo tattooed on her cheek. Did she go over the top like that because of what he’d told her about other women pretending to like football? Was this her way of saying “in your face?”
Shelby greeted Sam, her uncle’s elderly driver, as she slid inside the limo and then sent Emily one of her cute smiles. “Hi, Emily.”
“Hi, Shelby!” Emily hopped up and down on her seat. “Is that a real tattoo on your face? And isn’t this the biggest car you’ve ever been in?”
Shelby laughed. “This is my uncle’s little limo. You should see the other one. And no, this isn’t a real tattoo. It washes off.” Shelby finally glanced at him. “Hi. Okay if Emily has one?”
“Sure.” While Shelby decorated Em’s face, he glanced at his Broncos polo shirt—the kind the coaches wear on the sidelines—feeling underdressed.
After Sam dropped them right in front of the stadium entrance, Shelby led the way, her perfect butt swaying enticingly, to the executive suites. The electric excitement of the fans rushed through him at the prospect of seeing the Broncos attempt to keep their winning streak alive. And who knew? Maybe he’d start a winning streak of his own with Shelby, and she’d finally forgive him for abandoning her at the auction.
Emily’s eyes lit with longing as they passed the food vendors. “Look, Uncle Nick, your favorites. Hot dogs, peanuts, and ice cream. Wait, Dots! They’re my favorite.”
When he reached for his wallet, Shelby said, “Don’t you dare, Nick. Emily needs to eat dinner first, then Dots.”
He pulled a face for Emily’s sake. “Shelby’s boring, like your mom. Next time, it’ll just be you and me, and we’ll eat Dots for dinner.”
Emily shook her head and slipped her hand into Shelby’s. “No. Shelby too.”
Shelby met his gaze and beamed a take-that smirk. How could she look so damned sexy dressed like a ten-year-old boy? It made no sense.
“Let’s go see what kind of boring food they have waiting for us upstairs, Em.” She scooped Emily up in her arms. “Then we’ll get you some Dots for dessert. Maybe if your uncle can behave, we’ll let him have some too.”
Following behind Shelby’s cute little ass up the stairs to her uncle’s box wasn’t going to make behaving any easier.
Her uncle’s suite was huge. As Nick held the door open for them, he slipped his hand around Shelby’s arm to stop her and whispered, “Is that the mayor and his wife over there?” Shelby hung out with an interesting crowd.
She smiled. “Yes. And standing by the bar are a few former players you may recognize.”
Jake Ramsey, the newly retired Probowl hall of famer, in the flesh, called out, “Shelby! You’re late, little one. Get over here and catch up before these thugs drink all your uncle’s beer!”