“‘I’m glad it made him happy,’ Gavin says as he tosses a football into the air. He’s looking at me again, not blinking, but I can’t read his expression. Gavin has one of the most impenetrable faces I’ve ever seen. ‘I expect a lot of people are gonna assume I did it as a publicity stunt. Some shit to make up for me acting like I’m still a nobody from Newark who can fuck up a dude who toes too far out of line. But that’s not what it’s about. I’m glad the kid at least knows that.’ Judging by some of the responses to his contribution, Gavin has a point. A few people are skeptical about his sudden philanthropic gesture. His personal assistant, however, is not one of them. As Gavin goes back to the gym to complete his grueling daily workout regime, Noah leads me out. He’s worried about the interview and it shows in everything from his big blue eyes to his knitted brow. ‘I started out thinking working with Gavin was going to be a nightmare, but it’s not. I just wish other people could get to know him the way I have. Beneath the snarls, sarcasm, and hostility is a good guy. Even if he doesn’t eat Italian bread.’”
I burst out laughing as he set the laptop on the desk again. With the tension easing from his shoulders, I backed him up against the desk and wrapped my arms around him. He was half smiling and didn’t stop me from sliding my tongue into his mouth. It was only his recent plea for me to stop feeling him up while he was working that kept my hands from running all over his body.
“Mmm,” I moaned against his mouth. “How do you expect me to keep my mitts off you when your kisses always feel like invitations to tongue baths and blow jobs?”
“Ha.” Noah planted a hand on my chest and pushed me away. “We should probably kiss less.”
“You gotta deprive me of everything? I love kissing you.” Noah blushed to the roots of his hair, so rosy and pretty that I couldn’t stop grinning. He remained stubbornly silent, and I chucked his chin. “All right. The Vice article wasn’t bad. We can breathe easy. So, what’s your double good news?”
“Oh yeah. First—someone at Under Armour called my father!”
I had a feeling his father loathed me, but my relief was enormous. All I’d done was ask the woman handling the donation whether she could put his résumé in front of some eyeballs, and I’d worried it wouldn’t get far. It wasn’t like anyone at UA owed me a favor. It’d bothered me that I couldn’t do more to help his father out, but Noah liked reminding me that it wasn’t my responsibility. He said it with an edge every time, defensive and unwilling to take a handout, but I could tell he liked that I cared. And that he was surprised that I did.
“That’s awesome.”
“It is. And it’s some kind of regional manager position. If he gets the job, he’d be overseeing multiple stores. It’s like thirty thousand more than he used to make.” Noah rested his hands on my shoulders. “I know you said you didn’t want me to tell him it was you who’d sent in his résumé, but I think you should let me. You giving him those Thanksgiving Day tickets to the game was a step in the right direction towards his trusting you.”
“A, you’re not telling him. And B, I gave those tickets to both of you.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I passed on freezing my ass off in a snuggie and told him to take his new girlfriend and Jasmine. My other good news is that I can come over here on Thanksgiving and eat turkey sandwiches with hot-sauce pickles while we watch the game.”
Was he trying to sweep me off my feet? We could get sweaty and ride each other three times a day, but him wanting to make me happy in simple ways, like watching football with me even though he was so apathetic, made me want to squeeze him tight.
Damn. This whole thing with it being a crush and us just having sex to cope with the obvious energy between us was doomed. At least on my end. I had no idea what his feelings were, and I hadn’t asked. I was afraid to ask.
“Does that sound good?” he prompted. “If not, I can stay home and watch figure skating.”
“Figure skating?”
“Yeah. There always seems to be some figure-skating thing on around Thanksgiving. Or Star Wars marathons.”
I poked his stomach, smirking. “Nerd.”
“No apologies.”
“None needed.” I brushed my thumb over his face. “And that’d be great if you’re cool with Joe and Mel being here. I’d planned to stay here and get drunk, but they tag-teamed me and demanded they do some catered dinner.”