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“It’s not slutty.” I defended my only black cocktail wear.
He eyed me.
“Okay, it’s completely slutty, but you don’t have to say it.”
“Should I call it the I-promise-to-fuck-you dress?” He bit the bottom of my ear and I felt my knees wobble. My panties were soaked, and my mouth was dry. I hadn’t seen him in six hours and I wanted him.
“What if I can’t wait until dinner?” I was on my toes, trying to draw him closer.
“Oh, you’re being really naughty right now.”
I pulled on his arms. “Like you don’t try to make me late for work.”
“Every day, baby.” He unwrapped his hands from me and tossed a credit card on the sideboard. “If you didn’t bring the slutty dress, you can buy a new one.” He winked. “See you at seven.”
I crossed my arms as the door closed. Great. I picked up the credit card. At least I could shop.
I breezed through the lobby, holding my new dress over my shoulder. The woman at the boutique had layered it in tissue and zipped it inside a silk cover. If this didn’t totally distract Wes, nothing would. I grinned, thinking how much fun it would be when he peeled it off my body.
“Oh honey, we weren’t sure you’d be here.”
I stopped in my tracks. It was Gloria. There was nowhere to hide in the monstrous lobby.
“Hi, you two.” Bud was standing next to his wife. I wondered if the man ever wiped that scowl from his face.
“Looks like you did some shopping.”
“While Wes is in meetings, I thought I’d go out. I used to live in D.C., so I hit some of my old shopping spots.”
“So would that make you a Sharks fan?” It was the first time Bud had acknowledged me.
“Oh no, I never pulled for them.” He didn’t need to know I didn’t pull for anyone until now. I was a Wranglers girl all the way. The team’s newest convert who even slept in the quarterback’s jersey.
“Hmm.”
“I guess I’ll see you at the game tomorrow.” I tried to inch toward the elevators.
Bud shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know, this game is critical. Nothing more important to Wes right now.”
“Oh, I know, Mr. Blakefield.” I didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his first name.
“Don’t lecture her, Bud.” Gloria patted him on the elbow.
I faked a laugh. “I promise not to keep him out too late.” I pushed on the elevator button, praying the doors would open quickly and I could escape this scene.
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” His father didn’t let up. “His full concentration needs to be on the game. The play offs. The Super Bowl. Not the flavor of the week.”
I thought I had shown a lot of restraint until now, but I spun on my heels. “Excuse me? What did you just call me?”
Gloria’s eyes hit the floor. I could tell right away she wasn’t going to be my ally. She stood by and let her husband berate me.
But he held the elevator door for me so I could step in. It seemed like a gentlemanly gesture, except for the fact that he kept the doors open so I couldn’t leave. He leaned in.
“My son is a champion. The whole world is watching him. And I’m going to say it—you are a damn distraction to what he’s worked toward his entire life. Everyone can see it.”
The anger bubbled in my belly. Who was he to speak to me this way? I wasn’t a whore or a call girl. I was a talented surgeon who had her own dreams and accomplishments. Hitching my wagon to Wes’s star wasn’t part of my plan. We had our own goals. Our own paths to follow. And right now, we were in each other’s lives. I wasn’t trying to drag him down or steer him away from his passion. Bud Blakefield knew nothing about me.
“You think I’m a distraction? Me? The one who supports him? The one who cares how he feels and what he thinks?” I let the look of disdain fill my face. “If anyone is a distraction around here, it’s you. You can’t stand it if he isn’t anything but the best. You’re the real problem. Not me.” I tapped the buttons on the elevator, but he kept his hand wedged against the door.
