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“I noticed,” he grumbles, not looking at me. “I tried to tell you when I walked in, but you were too busy seeing into a different universe with your new caffeine-induced powers.”
“I’m so sorry! This is really unprofessional.” I snatch a fuzzy turquoise blanket from my pink couch (perks of the single life) and wrap it around my lower half as I start inching toward my bedroom. “I promise I didn’t realize I wasn’t wearing pants. I just never wear them when I’m home and I’ve been so preoccupied with work that—”
“Nora.” Derek turns and levels me with a look so full of memory and emotion that my knees nearly buckle. He doesn’t say a single word, but his warm eyes say everything:I know you don’t wear pants at home. And I already know exactly what you look like without pants. In fact, I know what you look like completely naked in my bed.
“Just get dressed, please,” he finally says, and I nod before dipping into my room to change, trying to hide a smile I have no business wearing.
—
We get through security quickly, but I’ll be honest, I’m struggling. My sluggish legs are trying to keep up with Derek’s extra-long, extra-awake ones, and I’m feeling pretty delirious from my lack of sleep and mix of caffeine. At this point, I’m seeing the world through a fishbowl. Everything is hazy, and Derek is right, the intense amount of caffeine is giving me loads of anxiety. It could also be the large number of onlookers making me nervous.
We’re both wearing hats and sweatshirts, hiding as best we can. But even if people don’t know specifically who he is—though I’ll bet you that seventy-five percent of these people do because the man is the most famous tight end in the NFL—they see his size and muscles and expensive athleisure wear and they know he’s someone important. Someone to snap pictures of. I think I’m supposed to be keeping him safe right now, but I keep tripping on my own feet and feeling dizzy. Derek evidently notices because before I know it, his arm goes around my shoulders—pulling me in close to his side to stabilize me.
The problem is, Derek is so strong and warm and smells like Moroccan mint bodywash (yes, that’s the exact scent…I might have peeked in his shower once) and it’s getting too difficult to fight my body’s urge to close my eyes while I walk. At some point, I realize that Derek is practically holding me up. He’s not even complaining. His hand is firmly gripping my side like he wants me to know he’s got me. And every now and then, when we stop to wait in a line, I allow myself to fully lean against him and take little catnaps. Professionalism starts tomorrow.
I’ve never been so tired in all my life. I think two weeks’ worth of sleeplessness plus an entire night without ever closing my eyes is catching up to me in a bad way.
“Almost to our gate,” Derek says, leaning down to whisper against my ear. Tingles erupt across my body and I’m too tired to fight them off. All I can think isGod, I miss him like this.
When we finally make it to gate ten, Derek guides us to a secluded corner, but it doesn’t really help. People still take note of us, and he has to spend several minutes signing autographs and taking pictures. I ask him if he wants me to keep the crowd away, but he says he doesn’t mind and that he’s happy to do it. And I think he really is, judging by the way he takes a little extra time with a few teenage boys, asking what positions they play in varsity football and where they want to go to college. The boys ask him if his ankle is going to be okay to play and Derek just grins at them and says, “I’ll be ready for game day, don’t worry.”
I think he needed this, honestly. He’s been hiding himself away too long in the offseason, mentally preparing for the call that he’s been cut. That call is never going to happen if I have anything to do with it.
Soon enough, we’re settled in our chairs in the terminal waiting to board the flight and I’m staring at Derek’s massive knee just a few inches from mine. I can’t look away. My peepers are glued to this bendy extremity of his that suddenly feels so erotic I can’t stand it. Has he always had these knees? His hand is resting on his thigh and when I see him squeeze his leg once, I feel the shift in the air before he even says my name.
“Nora…we need to talk.”
I don’t think that leg squeeze was a good one. I think he caught me staring and saw the raw longing I was too sleepy to cover up. Oh no…
Derek is about to fire me.
I know it. I know it in the pinch of his brows and the softness of his eyes. Something significant has changed in Derek since the othernight. I can’t put my finger on it, but now, after he made me eggs and protectively guided me through the airport—Ican see it clearly. He’s being tender because he’s going to cut me loose. Maybe he thinks I’m too much of a rookie to take him on for real after convincing him he needs to stop hiding behind his training and protect his career. Or maybe it was the lack of pants this morning. Or the fact that I was falling asleep walking through the airport.
But—no! I can’t let him fire me before I even get to prove myself for the first time. I can hide my longing better! I can wear pants at all times! I swear!
“Not yet,” I say quickly before he gets the chance to give me the boot. “Just—Iknow what you’re going to say…but…can you wait until after this weekend? Please?”
Derek opens his mouth to respond, but I’m saved by the nice lady over the intercom telling us that our gate is now boarding. My dreams get to live on another hour at least.
We both stand, and I pick up my backpack, but Derek takes it from me before I can strap it on my back and hoists it over his shoulder instead. A few minutes later, we board the plane and once seated in first class living like a queen and king, I conk out. And thankfully, Derek doesn’t wake me up to fire me—he doesn’t even wake me up to tell me my head is lying against his arm.
A dramatic southern accent perks up behind me. “Excuse me, kind sir, could I bother you for an autograph? You see, I’m your biggest fan in all the world! And it would mean ever so much—”
“Why the hell aren’t you sleeping?” I ask Nora as she slips onto the barstool beside me, looking…damn she’s so pretty.Her hair is all up on her head in a messy bun that drives me literally wild. She’s in her same outfit that she changed into at the airport after our flight—bright pink leather sandals, light blue flowy pants, and a white short-sleeve button-down tucked into the high waistline of the pants. I can’t quite describe it, but just looking at her you know she smells good—sweet and delicious. Like a dream.
She has no business looking this good after the insane day we’ve had. We got into Vegas around nine-thirtya.m.and were immediately driven to the set of the commercial—which took place in a casino. They threw me into an indigo suit that fit me like a glove and the crew shot a few different moody, ritzy-looking scenes of me playing blackjack, roulette, and pool. Turns out, pool is difficult to play in a skintight suit when you’re a person my size. On the last take ofthe night, the fabric couldn’t handle the strain any longer and split down the back of the jacket.
Other than leaving the jacket behind, I didn’t bother changing when we made it to our hotel, where I deposited Nora at her room and told her I’d tie her down if she didn’t sleep. We finished filming about elevenp.m., and Nora hung on set with me the whole day even though I tried multiple times to get her to go back to the hotel and nap. She wasn’t having it. She’s by far the most thorough agent I’ve ever had—which makes it even tougher that I’ve decided to dissolve our contract.
I really don’t want to. Not only do I need a good agent and think she’d fit the bill perfectly, judging by how she handed me my ass the other night when I was all but giving up on my career, but I’m dreading letting her out of my life again.
It’s not like all the pain I’ve been carrying from losing the woman I loved magically disappeared when I learned the truth, but it did take on a new light. I respect Nora for the decision she made for herself. And dammit if respecting her doesn’t make me love her that much more.
In order for me to move on, I can’t be faced with her day in and day out. It’ll hurt too much.
Nora doesn’t even bother looking guilty for popping up beside me at the bar now. “I tried to sleep. But it’s too noisy.”
“I can get you some earplugs.”
