I’ve been on the phone the entire ride to the magazine party. All I want is to focus on Bree, but my agent needed to discuss an endorsement deal she’s negotiating for the offseason, and then that turned into listening to Tim blabber on about who all I need to kiss up to tonight after we get through the doors. It’s been one phone call after another.
Although Bree has known me long enough that seeing me on the phone for an extended period of time is not a shock to her anymore, I still hate it. It’s rude to spend an entire car ride with a phone glued to my ear. Most women can’t handle this part of my life, and it contributes to our early breakups. Some days I can tell my manager and agent to back off and give me some space, but on days like today where I’ve been moving from one scheduled meeting, practice, and physical therapy session to another, I have to catch up with the people who run my life in my free moments.
“So Paul will definitely be there tonight, and you’ll want to make sure you seek him out and have a public conversation with him,” Tim says, like maybe I don’t already know from years of experience that I need to be friendly with our team’s owner.
“Yep. Got it.”
“Also, Jacob Nelson might try to corner you. He contacted me about scheduling an interview with you, and I told him no. I’ve yet to see a positive article come from him, and I don’t want you anywhere near the guy. Smile and remind him that you leave all scheduling up to your manager.”
“Mhmm…sounds good.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Tim asks in an annoyed tone.
No. Nope. Not a bit. I’m staring at Bree’s long bare legs.
I don’t mean to be, but damn, she looks killer tonight. She looks killer every single night, but right now, she’s making herself stand out in this skintight sparkling dress, hair long and wild but also somehow perfectly styled. And her eyes…wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear eyeliner before, and it makes her already vibrant eyes practically grab me by the collar of my suit and demand that I empty my pockets and give her everything I’ve got. You can take it all, Bree. She has no idea my eyes are glued to her because her attention is completely locked on her phone. I don’t think I’ve seen her blink in two minutes.
“No, I’m not listening anymore, Tim. Can you just text me a list of people you want me to schmooze and who I need to avoid?”
He sighs, knowing he’s lost me. Honestly, even if Bree wasn’t stealing my attention, I still think I’d only be halfway listening to Tim. I’m tired. No, I’m exhausted. If I closed my eyes right now, I’d pass out. And even though Bree looks like a literal golden goddess, I still would rather be home on the couch with her in our sweatpants watching something funny on TV.
“Okay, last thing and I’ll let you go,” Tim says.
“You have fifteen seconds.”
“Nicole told me to tell you to kiss Bree on the red carpet
tonight. Just something chaste and sweet for the news outlets to keep your relationship in the spotlight and trending.”
My eyes sweep to Bree and my pulse picks up. I am getting official permission to kiss Bree. Actually, I’m being told I have no choice but to kiss her. Our lips will meet in only a few short minutes, and my mind can’t wrap itself around the idea. Suddenly, I’m sweating. I feel out of practice. So much rides on this kiss. What if I screw it up? I’ve generally gotten positive reports in that area, but this is Bree. I have to give her my best so the word brother never surfaces in her mind in reference to me again.
“Noted. We’ll get it done.” And then I hang up before Tim can give me any more assignments.
Bree must notice the grit to my voice because her head rises from her phone for the first time, haunting eyes knocking into me. “What will we get done?”
I’m not ready to tell her yet so I sidestep. “Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been on the phone so much. It’s not always like this, but being in the middle of playoffs means my time is—”
She laughs and holds up a hand. “Nathan, please. It’s me—you don’t have to explain to me how busy you are in the playoffs. I’ve actually been thankful for the time to myself on this ride.”
“Yeah?” I smile and nod toward her phone. “What’ve you been doing?”
She bites her full bottom lip, and I wonder if it would be too much if I did that during our first kiss.
“Nothing.” Her cheeks go pink.
I laugh at the way she immediately tilts her phone so I can’t see the screen. “That pretty much means you’re absolutely up to something then. Come on, hand it over.”
“No!” Her long dark eyelashes practically touch her eyebrows with how wide she opens her eyes. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“Of course I will,” I say with a grin. “But that’s nothing new, so let me see it.”
She lets out a disgruntled sigh then hands her phone over. I’m now looking at a Google search page full of images of “celebrities on the red carpet”.
I don’t laugh because I can see she’s genuinely embarrassed. “Why are you looking at this?”
“Because! I need to get ideas for how to pose. You’re so used to all of this, but…I’m over here trying not to have a freak-out because in like two minutes I’m going to be ON A RED CARPET FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE!”
I feel bad now. I completely forgot to run her through what the red carpet is like. Of course she’s nervous. I remember feeling totally sure I would faceplant during my first photo op, and I wasn’t even wearing four-inch heels like she is. Probably not the best time to tell her we also have to publicly kiss for the first time on that same red carpet.