Page 99 of At First Smile
Part of me may be waiting to wake up from this dream. To discover that none of this is real. That she doesn’t love me. Thatshe’s not mine. That I never met her. Even if this is only a sweet dream, I am rock-solid in how I feel about Pen and how hard I will hold on to this and make it my reality.
A flash of white teeth scrape across her bottom lip as she nods. “Can we take a picture for Cane Austen and Me?”
I skim my hands along her spine. “Sure. Where do you want to pose? By the window, so I can get the city backdrop?”
“No… Not a posed picture of me, but a selfie of us.”
A furrow creases my forehead. “Are you sure?”
“Yes… Are you?”
“Luv, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life as I am about us.”
Rising to her tiptoes, she presses her lips against mine. For a few moments, we just lose ourselves in each other until someone clears their throat. With a sheepish grin, she pulls back.
Not sorry at all.My grin is more wolfish than sheepish.
“Is this something you’ll post now or wait until after tonight?”
We met with Sasha a few weeks back. There’d been a lot of back and forth about when to have our first public photo. With everything going on with that douche canoe Alex, I didn’t want to add any extra pressure on Pen, so we opted to just debut at the fundraiser and if folks spin this as a stunt, which Sasha warned some people may, we’d weather that storm. I don’t care what people write about me, but I do care about what they say about Pen.
“Tonight, they’ll take photos of us. Sasha has the press release ready. I know it’s not what we’re doing, but it feels so formal…it feels… not us. You say I’m home for you, but with you it’s like I’m soaring. It seems right to have our first public photo be somethingwetake togetherhigh above the city that you hail from, where I’m quite literally on top of the world with the man I love.”
Like a team.My pulse thuds. “On our terms.” I smile.
“Our terms.” She pulls her mobile from her back pocket and hands it to me.
My thumb caressesover my mobile’s screen. Tucked below my chin, Pen beams. My arms wrap around her and my hat, now backward, rests back on my head. A glow from the streaming rays of sun outlines us. Thousands of likes and comments flood the picture linked to both our social media sites.
“Bro, you’re trending,” Finn says, slapping my back.
Slipping my phone into my suit pocket, I pick up my pint. “It’s hardly trending.
At least, I don’t think it is. Sasha’s texts, with several angry face emojis that we’d not given her a heads up before posting, mentions inquiries from several media outlets. TheLA Pressand other media outlets have reached out. Even with Emma, who was famous in her own right, reporters didn’t approach us to do stories, but thanks to the previous stories about our meeting in the airport, they are fascinated by me and Pen’s relationship.
Finn nudges my ribs and leans against the mahogany bar. “The world loves romance. My books wouldn’t be so popular if they didn’t, and Pen and you are a swoon fest.”
“Speaking of romance what’s going on with Trina and you?”
“She’s engaged.”
“My question stands.” I sip my Guinness.
“I repeat my response.” He looks towards the hotel bar’s entrance, no doubt looking for our dates.
After the Hockey Hall of Fame, I brought Pen back to the hotel. Trina then promptly stole her, calling out, “Don’t worryIrish Puck Boy, I’ll bring her back to you,” as they ran off to the hotel’s spa.
“We’re just friends. Plus, I’d never interfere in someone’s relationship. Not my style,” he says, ice clinking against the glass as he finishes his Old Fashion.
I place my hand on my older brother’s shoulders and squeeze. “I know. You’re the honorable brother.”
“Good God,” Finn groans and stands straight.
My gaze follows his and my breath stutters. At the entrance stand Pen and Trina. The light from the chandeliers seems dark compared to their radiance. Trina’s red bob, normally smooth, is styled in fat beach waves. A satin emerald-green dress molds her statuesque figure, the slit that runs to mid-thigh reveals a flash of leg. Beside her stands Pen, her long hair is pulled into a loose chignon, bunched in curls on her right side, a silver pearl encrusted comb holding it all together. A sleeveless silver dress hugs her breasts and flares below her knees.
“They’re gorgeous,” Finn murmurs.
“And both are taken.” I slap my brother’s back.
