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Dylan looked at me. I shook my head. This girl was going to be the death of us.
We jumped when we heard a knock on the door.
“Vanessa?” It was Candy. Shit.
We pulled up our pants and I helped Vanessa to her feet. Her cheeks were red and her hair was all over the place.
I tried to help her straighten it.
“Y-yes?” she eked out.
“Steve is out here.”
Vanessa wiped the back of her mouth. “Can you bring me some water before you send him in?”
Dylan and I both held in a laugh.
“Got it, boss,” Candy called.
Dylan held Vanessa against his chest. “Can I just say you’re the hottest fucking fiancée a man could want?”
She giggled. “Is that what hot fiancées do?”
I spun her toward me. I wouldn’t be able to touch her again until we were behind closed doors. Dylan could kiss her, hold her hand, put his arm around her and the rest of the world would think it was romantic. I couldn’t go near her.
“Absolutely.” I planted a kiss on her lips. “And right now I’m regretting I didn’t up my bid to a hundred K.”
Dylan pushed on my shoulder, separating us. “Well, you didn’t.”
“Hey.” Vanessa’s sapphire eyes burned brightly. “I said I didn’t want to choose. I’m not going to.” She shook her head. “Tell me you haven’t changed your minds.”
“No,” I growled, shooting Dylan a death stare.
“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Good, because I need you both. I can’t run this team without you.”
“You have us,” I promised.
Dylan moved to unlock the door. “You have my word. We’re here for you.”
“If I could have two fake engagements I would,” she whispered. “But I don’t think that would go over very well.”
I was starting to realize more and more we were all in way over our heads, but one look at her and I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
Twenty
Vanessa
My world was spinning out of control. I was on a high from my new sexual power and giddy with how the press conference turned out. But there was a new tension between the guys. I could see it. Feel it. Isaac wanted more. I had to figure out how to give it to him. I couldn’t lose him.
But there wasn’t time to ask how to make that happen before Steve barged into the room.
“Isaac?” He looked at my other favorite wide receiver. “What are you doing here?”
“I asked him to be here,” I swooped in. “He’s Dylan’s best friend, and he represents the other players. You had him sign the NDA anyway.”
“Oh. All right.” Steve made himself at home. His sleeves came nearly to the center of his palms. Someone needed to teach him how to dress better.
