When it was all said and done, then...then he had to deal with what came next.
The obvious thing? The thing that made him look forward to the future and not dread it?
Anna.
Off the field, he was just a guy who had no idea where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do.
But Anna knew what to do. That’s one of the things that drew him to her. He had a bag of tricks that he used with fans to help make them feel comfortable around him—a vetted array of rehearsed responses he’d honed over his twelve-year professional career. But beyond his standard chitchat, big events like this one gave him hives.
“Now, vhere vill ve go on our date?” Babushka asked Drake.
“You said you’re buying him for me.” Anna stared her grandmother down. “Now you’re buying him for you?”
“There is enough of him to go around,” Babushka said with an exaggerated shoulder lift.
He ping-ponged between the two of them as they picked up again in Russian. Had he received a head injury around the same time he’d pulled the hell out of his hamstring?
“Apologies. I don’t know what you’re referring to with this talk of purchasing me.” He did the thing where he crossed his arms while giving the fan his full attention. Arms crossed signaled for them to move along—which usually worked—while giving his full attention made them feel valued and appreciated.
Babushka held her program open. Slowly, licking her fingertip between each turn of a page and moving at the speed of a sloth, she flipped the pages until she came to one with his photo and then held it out for him to read.
His gut seemed to take an imaginary punch.
There was a bachelor auction, that he’d known. What he hadn’t known was that he was one of the eligible bachelors up for sale.
There was a photo of him in his jersey holding a football on the field with a shit-eating grin and messy hair in place. Right alongside that was his professional league photo in his suit, still holding the football. Next to the photos were the words Most Eligible Quarterback.
Hell. To. The. No.
His agent’s specific instructions were to lay low while he did his dance with Medford and arranged for the change. A public bachelor auction was not laying low.
As if he’d taken a direct hit to the gut, his stomach clenched, then fell, then tried to empty itself all over the photo spread.
He swallowed—he hadn’t agreed to be the grand prize in the auction. He never would have agreed to do that. He snatched the program, a sheen of sweat probably appearing on his forehead.
Words dried right up. He had nothing. Nada.
Hence his aversion to any social appearances not required in his contracts. Contract-approved events had specific provisions allowing him to escape and catch a break every so often in a prepared private green room of sorts.
This event? Not so much.
But this event had Anna, so he’d sucked it up.
“I didn’t...” He held up the image, tapping it harder than necessary. “This isn’t approved.”
“What do you mean it’s not approved?” Anna asked, as pale as he felt. “The committee chair sent us all emails about how you had agreed.”
“I did not agree to be in the auction. I said I would be one of the announcers for the auction.” He stared at the image of himself. “Damn.”
“Who did this?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know.” He glanced up from the glossy paper and couldn’t help but notice the extra-wide wide eyes she directed toward her grandmother.
“Tell me it wasn’t you,” Anna said, her gaze narrowing in a way he’d learned was not a good thing. “You never even came to committee meetings.”
“I admit nothing,” Babushka said with a heavy wink—dear God, her eyelid stayed closed for an abnormally long time.
He’d begun to question if she was a passive participant in having a stroke when her eyelid slowly rolled open and her eyes sparkled.
A sparkle that gave her ruse away.
“My Roman is becoming very good apprentice,” Babushka said.
“You two put Drake in the bachelor auction without asking?” Anna asked, incredulous.
“It vill be fine.” Babushka shrugged her shoulders up toward her ears.
Which meant fuck a fucking Ferrari, his night just got complicated.
Chapter 4
Drake
* * *
“You have to buy me.” Drake turned to Anna. “However much it costs. Buy me. I will pay you back.”
Anna still had the reindeer-in-the-headlights expression on her face. “I—”
“I vill buy you. It vill be fine.” Babushka patted his cheek and shuffled around him. She continued to speak as she moved forward, but he didn’t catch what she’d said.
“Who do I talk to on the committee to make this not happen? I’ll make a massive donation. Anything,” he said to Anna as he combed his fingers through his hair.
“Um…” Anna shifted her gaze away from his. “I’ll go find one of the committee chairs. It’ll be fine.” She didn’t sound like she believed it would be okay.
Something settled deep down inside of him—that intuition that told a person whether something was a good idea or a bad one, the instinct he relied on when picking a play and a receiver. It told him that this was not fine.
His heart continued to thump unnaturally fast.
“Is there a room? Somewhere I can have a moment?” he asked, his words more clipped than he’d intended.
A private place where he could contact his business manager, agent, and anyone else who would listen and might be able to stop this from actually happening without wrecking his reputation along the way. His agent was exceptional at coming up with solutions created from nothing but chicken wire, a plastic cup, and sparkling tree lights. At least, that’s what he’d thought when the evening began.
“Follow me.” Anna tugged on his elbow, her fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket.
He hated the situation he was in. Despised the taste of frustration coating his tongue. But he did not mind at all that Anna had a grip on his arm. She led him through the other guests and around an excessive number of white poinsettias and sheer fabric curtains that draped from the ceiling to the floor. She was a woman on a mission who didn’t stop for autographs.
The look on her face must’ve been effective because she managed to get him through without stopping just as well as a team of his best security gets him to his truck after a game.
They moved behind the stage, Anna flicking the curtain aside as he followed behind.
“Where are we going?” he whispered.
“There’s an empty room back here you can use to call whoever you need.” She slowed, pointed out the cables taped along the floor so he didn’t trip, then moved a precarious stack of what appeared to be empty boxes wrapped to look like extravagant Christmas presents, and opened a door.
He followed as she led him into a storage room. Chairs stacked ten high lined the walls, and round tables that had been torn down and set against the wall. Long strands of extra unwound Christmas lights were draped over a couple of the tables.
“Will this work?” she asked, hands on hips as she surveyed the space.