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His gaze darts down.
“I’d really like to kiss you, but I don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”
“It doesn’t come off, so you can absolutely kiss me without us both looking like clowns gone wrong.”
“Really?”
“Really, really.” I press my lips to the back of my hand and show him.
“What is this sorcery?” He dips down and presses his lips gently to mine, then pulls back and rubs his thumb over his lips. It comes away with nothing but gloss residue. He comes back in for another kiss, this time with tongue, but again it doesn’t last. He backs up enough to check the state of my mouth before he claims it again. This time I end up pressed against the side of the car. His thigh finds its way between my legs, so I part them and hook one around his and loop my arms around his neck.
I don’t know how long we stand there, grinding on each other, but the only reason we break apart is because the flash of headlights coming down the driveway tells us we’re not alone. Miles does some rearranging in his spandex pants, and he grumbles about being glad he has a cape to cover his issue, and that maybe we should make a brief appearance so we can go back to his place and pick this up where we left off.
I’m not opposed to that plan. I prefer small, intimate gatherings where I know most of the people over big parties. And if there’s an animal in the house, I can often be found sitting with the four-legged creatures, since they’re always riveted by my conversation skills.
The other car pulls in behind Miles and cuts the lights. A guy gets out of the front seat, and a woman unfurls from the passenger side. Her hair is long and dark, and she looks like she just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. She’s clearly Belle in her huge yellow dress. It’s so elaborate she reminds me of a cake topper. Which means the huge, burly man is supposed to be Prince Adam. He’s wearing a suit, and his longish hair is slicked back.
The man looks between me and Miles, his brows pulling together as his eyes drop to the license plate on the car. His brows pop. “Thorn?”
“Hey, Beavin. Hi, Teresa, you two look great.” Miles tries to tuck a hand in his pocket as they approach, but he doesn’t have any pockets, so he props it on his hip for a second before he drops it to his side.
I’m still trying to figure out if Beavin is a nickname or a real name or a last name.
Beavin claps Miles on the shoulder, then pats his foam chest. “You been working out, man?”
“Nah, temporary ab implants.” He runs a hand over them, then puts his arm around my shoulder. “Kitty, this is Mark Beavin. He plays defense. And this is his wife, Teresa. She runs a not-for-profit company that pairs children with support dogs.”
“Oh wow. That’s amazing! It’s so nice to meet you both.” I try to wipe my hand on my hip, but my outfit is pleather, so it doesn’t absorb the sweat at all.
She doesn’t say anything about my slightly damp palm as she shakes my hand and tells me it’s great to meet me. “You two are so cute! Have you and Miles been dating long? Why haven’t I seen you at a game?” Teresa hooks her arm with mine and guides me toward the house, leaving the guys trailing behind us.
“We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks,” I explain.
“Well, we definitely need to get you out to a game. It’s so much fun. And we have a box, and seats on the ice, so you can pick where you want to watch the action from.”
“That sounds amazing.”
The second we’re in the doors, a group of women converges on Teresa. It sounds a bit like a flock of chickens clucking at each other. And not in a bad way, just in an excited to see each other way. It’s clear that they spend a lot of time together and that they’re good friends. I wonder what that must be like, to have a husband or boyfriend who travels half the year. I imagine it could get lonely, and that part of the reason they’re all so close is because they need the support of their friends to manage those away-game stretches.
One of the women hands me a drink, and Teresa introduces me to the wives and girlfriends, all dressed up as princesses. I feel like I missed the memo in my Catwoman costume. And I stand out more than I’d like to.
Another group arrives. These guys look younger, and none of them have brought dates. They stop to say hi to the women surrounding me, complimenting them on their costumes. Again, I’m struck by how close the team is, and how they include Miles like he’s one of them. There’s a family-like bond.
