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“Business as usual,” I said, and she gave me a pointed look. I shrugged. “It was my publicist. I guess the media outlets are a little more interested in our relationship than I thought.”
“Oh?” Aspen asked, taking another bite of her grilled cheese.
I joined in, taking a good bite out of mine as well. It was domestic as fuck, but I really liked it. I'd learned that lately. Iliked doing just about anything with this woman. It didn't matter if we were dressed to the nines at one of my charity events, cheering on the Calgary team I owned, or sitting at the kitchen island eating grilled cheese. I just genuinely loved being around her.
“Yeah,” I finally said. “I need to give you a heads-up. My publicist says they're getting desperate. It's not enough that I've stated publicly that you're my girlfriend, they want more details. They're catching more shots of us out in public, and I guess the way we're looking at each other is making people think that I'm officially off the market.”
Aspen's eyes flared for a moment before an amused smile shaped her kissable lips.
I laughed with her. “It's not funny,” I said.
“I'm not laughing at you, Cross,” she said through her giggles. “But you have to see it from my side. It's like you're Batman or something. They have to know if you're available or not and the world loves reporting on it. It's one of the most surreal things about being with you.”
“If I was Batman I’d at least have some seclusion.” I shook my head, a more serious thought tumbling over me. “My publicist is under the impression that if I don't give them more details they're going to come up with a story of their own. I don't want that to affect you.”
Aspen arched brow. “Why would that affect me?”
“I've seen it play out a dozen times before,” I explained. “Either with athletes on my team or even my friends. The press has a way of twisting stories and photographs, or taking quotes out of context. Some can be downright hurtful. And that's the last thing I’d want you to experience.” I wanted her to fully understand. “Hell,” I continued. “They could take an old photo and make it look like it happened yesterday. I don't want somepicture with me and one of my previous companions to pop up and make you question things.”
Aspen set down the piece of grilled cheese she'd been about to eat, her brow crinkling just slightly. “I appreciate that,” she said, but she looked at me questioningly. “But, this is still a contract between us, isn't it?” she asked.
I swallowed around the sudden rock in my throat, trying like hell to ignore how it felt like the rug had been ripped from beneath me. Technically yes, we were still under a contract, but if the last two months had proven anything, it was that there was way more to us than some ink on paper.
I wasn't saying I knew exactly what to do with that, but I’d been working on figuring it out ever since I first started thinking about it weeks ago.
“Yes,” I finally said. “But I think we can both admit it's a little more complicated than that now.” Aspen nodded, and I continued. “And just because we have a professional arrangement doesn't mean that I have no regard for your feelings. And maybe you wouldn't be jealous or hurt or offended if the media made up a story about me or you or anything regarding us, but I just wanted to let you know now that I have no intentions of ever hurting you. If something comes out, I just asked for your trust enough to come talk to me about it before you make any conclusions on your own.”
Aspen glanced down at her plate, shifting a little bite of grilled cheese around as she nodded, the slight hint of a smile on her lips.
“I promise,” she said. “If the press prints something about you getting engaged to a prima ballerina or two, I'll make sure I ask you about it first before I attack you in a fit of jealous rage.”
Her tone was teasing enough that I gaped at her, barely able to hide my smile as I raced around the kitchen island and scooped her into my arms.
“Are you saying you wouldn't be jealous? Have I made such little impact on your heart that there wouldn't even be a flicker of anger?”
She giggled, wiggling in my embrace as I shifted to drape her over my shoulder. “Not in the slightest,” she teased.
“Damn,” I said. “I guess that means I need to work a little harder.” I playfully smacked her ass as I carried her through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into my bedroom.
“Didn't you just say youdidn'twant me to be jealous or hurt?” she asked, laughing as I plopped her down onto the mattress, planting an array of kisses along her neck.
I grinned down at her as I worked it out in my head. “Technically speaking,” I said.
That got her laughing even harder, and I dipped my head down to kiss her some more before falling to my side next to her, so we were facing each other. I smoothed some of her colorful hair back, content to study the lines of that beautifully open smile.
“We could feed them a story, you know,” she said. Her hands slid casually over my chest, the intimate comfort we shared something I never experienced before. Normally if I dragged a woman into my bed, it was all teeth and clothes off and carnal sex. And while I'd had that with Aspen, this was different. This was more. And of course, I wanted her. I always wanted her. But just laying here, talking and teasing each other? It was the kind of joy I didn’t know I’d been missing.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “And what story would you like to give them?”
“It could be anything we want,” she said. “You could tell them the truth, and it wouldn't change anything would it?”
That felt like a dangerous question, but I answered as honestly as I could. “It would make my integrity look questionable,” I admitted. “Not only to the public and possiblymy business partners that I have ventures with, but to my friends.” I already hated lying to them enough, but the longer I’d been with Aspen the less it felt like a lie.
“Oh,” Aspen said nodding. “Of course,” she continued. “That's why you had me and Jesse sign an NDA before this all started. Because we're in a contractual agreement to be with each other and talking about it would be a bad thing.”
Something like sadness flickered over her eyes, and I had to wonder if I'd said the wrong thing? Or did the truth mean something different to her now?
Anxiety clawed up my throat with a heavy dose of anticipation as I felt the confession of my conflicting emotions dancing on the tip of my tongue. Maybe I should just tell her, maybe I should just tell her what I wanted. Which was...
