Page 50 of Married As Puck
“Don’t.” I groan into my hand. “It wasn’t like that. Afterwards he gave me the cold shoulder and shut me out completely. I didn’t even see him in the house, only heard him in his room most days. That was until tonight.”
“What happened tonight? You have to be fast with these juicy details, babe. It’s best served hot.”
“He showed up at the office.”
“What? Wow!”
“Yeah, I was surprised too. He came with food.”
For a second there’s just silence, then Julia bursts out laughing so loud I pull the phone away from my ear. “He brought you food? Mr. I-Don’t-Care-About-Anyone?”
I roll my eyes, feeling the heat pool in between my legs. That has been happening a lot recently. “Don’t make it sound like he proposed, Julia. He just made sure I ate, then left. That’s all.”
“Mm-hmm. Baby steps. And how’d that make you feel?”
How did it make me feel? Confused. Caught off guard. A little ruffled in a way I don’t want to admit but I can’t tell her that. I nibble on my bottom lip.
“I tried to thank him when I got back here, but he’s not home. Probably back to pretending I don’t exist.”
Julia hums knowingly. “Classic. Still, that’s something. He’s making an effort.”
I shake my head hard even though she can’t see me. “Don’t. Don’t start turning this into something it’s not.”
“Babe, I’m not doing that. I’m just saying, guys like him don’t show up with food for no reason but hey,” her voice softens, “remember what this is. It’s an arrangement, not a real relationship.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I won’t forget it,” but somewhere inside me, another voice whispers the opposite.
I curl tighter under the blanket, holding the phone like it’s my anchor at this moment.
Don’t fall for him, Brie. Julia’s right. Don’t be stupid. Don’t hope for something that doesn’t exist.
The conversation changes to other topics after that. When the call finally ends and I close my eyes and try to sleep, all I can see is Cameron’s face.
I’m in serious trouble.
20
I shouldn’t have come. That’s the first thought that runs through my head as the valet takes the car and Brie loops her arm through mine. She looks breathtaking in her floor-length gold dress.
During the car ride, I did all I could not to stare at her without making it obvious. After the mind-blowing sex we had, something has changed between us even though we are pretending like everything’s normal. It’s why I’m spending more hours in the rink, and when I’m not there, I’m either at the gym or hanging out with Keith.
I noticed how she tried to speak to me the first few days afterwards, but I maintained a blank expression and pretended not to notice her. If only she knew that it took all my willpower to leave her in bed that day when all I wanted to do was take her over and over again and have her scream my name until the neighbors came knocking at our door.
I thought the distance I created was for the best, but the images from that night are etched permanently into my brain. If anything, the distance has made me more restless, longing for another taste of her.
My resolve weakened the other day when I had a strong urge to see her and not just that, but to be with her. That was why I took the food to her office, as an excuse to see her. I could have sent a delivery guy, but I wanted to see her.
This dinner is an arrangement I would have avoided if it was in my power to, but Collins insisted that we must be in attendance.
Meanwhile I’m in this blue Italian suit that suddenly feels like it’s too snug. I rest my hand lightly on her waist, even though my mind is screaming that I should avoid all forms of body contact before I combust in my pants.
I squint at the lighting in the room before my eyes adjust. The air is filled with excited chatter and soft music to set the mood. I hate these things even though I’ve made numerous public appearances since I went pro.
Brie has gotten better since the last one, nodding at familiar faces and exchanging polite greetings. I watch her mouth curve as she thanks some old man for complimenting her dress. She doesn’t even flinch when someone calls her “Mrs. Gray.”
But I do, every single time.
“You’re glaring,” she whispers, her lips close to my ear. She’s tiptoeing, even in her heels to reach my height.
