“There she is.” Bellamy smiles and nods toward the man sitting across the table, next to the empty seat that’s mine. “Amanda, this is Roger. Roger, meet Amanda.” Bellamy waves her hands between the two of us.
At first glance, Roger is a good-looking guy. He stands to pull out my chair, and I take in more of him. He has manners, is about five foot eleven-ish, and seems to be fit underneath his white button-up. He’s got short blond hair that’s sculpted with some type of product, combed to the side. His face is cleanly shaven, and he offers me a wide smile.
“Thank you.” I return his smile as I take my seat and allow him to help me push the chair in.
“I’m Roger,” he says, offering me his hand once he’s taken his seat.
“Amanda. Nice to meet you.” I take his hand and notice how soft they are. That unfortunately reminds me of my ex-husband, but I’ll try not to hold it against him.
“You, as well,” he says and winks, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
I mean, come on. He’s not picking me up in a crowded bar. We’re already having dinner together. Sure, it’s a group thing, but still. The wink… is he a playboy? Is he trying to be a playboy? Maybe I can fake a headache and bounce, grab my daughter, and go home for a chill night on the couch.
Strike one.
“So, Bellamy tells me you’re a talent agent?” Roger says from beside me.
“Not an agent, more of a scheduler.” I laugh. “I book talent for The Country Fiddle.”
“Oh.” He nods, his face falling. “So what does that mean exactly?”
“I book the live shows. I work with agencies and independent songwriters and musicians to fill the daily schedule for live music.”
“Oh, so you’re not working with famous people or anything.” He scrunches up his nose, as if my job isn’t important to him since I’m not working with big names.
Strike two.
“Not usually, but a lot of the talent that has come through our doors has gone off to hit it big, so kind of.” I work with some incredibly talented musicians. They don’t have to be selling out stadiums to put on a good show, and I take pride in booking them at our venue. Roger has barely known me for five minutes, and he’s pissing all over my career.
“Got ya,” he says, and it takes extreme effort not to roll my eyes. Instead, I meet Bellamy’s gaze from across the table, and she clears her throat.
“So, Roger, how are things at Riggins?” she asks, trying to change the topic and steer the conversation.
“Good.” He nods. “They’re great to work for, as you know. They’re all in and out of the office, having babies and all that.”
“They are great to work for,” Bellamy agrees. “It was a hard decision not to go back after my maternity leave, but Reid and I talked a lot about it, and I wanted that time with Coral. We were in a financial spot where I could leave my job.”
“Yeah, marrying a professional athlete will do that.” Roger nods.
My mouth falls open, and so does Bellamy’s. I give her a look, one that says, This is the guy you fixed me up with?
“You got something against professional athletes?” Reid asks. There’s a lightness to his tone, but I can also hear the tension. He’s not going to let anyone talk about his wife like that.
“You’re at the wrong fucking table if so,” Landry quips.
It’s the first time anyone else in our group has chimed in on the conversation, and I’m mortified that they’re hearing this.
“Not at all,” Roger replies, not fazed in the least at the scrutiny of the glare five starting players from the Nashville Rampage football team are giving him. “I just think a woman should stay home regardless. The million-dollar contracts make it easier.” He shrugs.
My blood is boiling.
This asshole.
Strike three.
“So, you think a working mother is what? A bad mom?”
“Nah, but she should be raising her kid.”